


Constant

by April7739



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, And you thought my other fics were long, Angst and Feels, Artist Clarke Griffin, Bellamy and Clarke are hot, Bellarke, Big Brother Bellamy Blake, College, Drama, Emotional Rollercoaster, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, High School, Minor Jasper Jordan/Maya Vie, Minor John Murphy/Raven Reyes, Minor Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teen Years, football player Bellamy, group friendship, sort of 2 stories in 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 94
Words: 542,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April7739/pseuds/April7739
Summary: When Clarke Griffin finds her life turned upside down in her last year of college, her ex-boyfriend Bellamy Blake proves to her that some things never change.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 813
Kudos: 990





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! It's been a while. I took me longer than I thought it would to complete this story, but it became such a passion project of mine, and I think devoting so much time and effort to it was well worth it. It required a lot of planning and some research and ended up being quite the deceptively intricate plot, but the end result is something I'm very proud of. This fic has a special place in my heart, and I hope that you all enjoy it! Buckle up. It's massively long, and it's gonna be quite the ride.
> 
> Note: I think this is pretty obvious, but italics indicate flashbacks.
> 
> My Twitter handle: @AprilM7739

_Chapter 1_

_I’m pretty much fucked_ , Clarke Griffin thought as she trudged up the steps to the front porch of her beach house. Everything sounded so nice and peaceful out there on her own little expanse of sand. Waves stuttered towards the shore, and the late summer wind whispered against her ears. But Clarke’s mind was a hurricane. In fact, as she walked inside, she felt like her head was spinning, going around in circles with everything she’d neglected to do that day. The essay question on the back of her biology test, for starters. Picking up her dress for tomorrow night’s charity event. Meeting Raven for lunch. Just one thing after another. It wasn’t like she’d woken up intending to flake out on so many of her responsibilities, but . . . that was just the kind of day she’d had. And the day wasn’t over yet.

Stress was nothing new for Clarke, so she tried her best to talk herself down from it as she lumbered up the stairs, her purse in one hand, a white Walgreens sack full of junk in the other. _Just email Jaha. He’ll let you come in during his office hours and do the essay_ , she told herself. _You can try to pick up the dress tomorrow, and Raven’s your best friend. She won’t be mad._ Even as she talked herself down from everything bothering her, her stomach still felt knotted up with nerves.

Her bedroom was such a beautiful sight. Not only because it was a beautiful room, but also because she just felt like lying down on that big, queen-sized mattress, crawling under the covers, and finding some trashy but addictive reality show to watch all night. Would’ve been nice.

Breathing a heavy sigh, she tossed the sack on the plush chair next to her television’s display case and debated what to do next. She supposed she could change into something comfy, not that the jeans and black tank top she was wearing were _un_ comfortable. Or she could call her mom and re-confirm what time she was supposed to be at the gala tomorrow night. Or she could jump in the shower, try to wash off all the bad parts of the day.

Not one of those things was the most important thing to do right now, though.

Fortunately, life brought her a distraction in the form of an unmistakable ding, the same ding that sounded whenever she got a new text message. All too eager for something to take her mind off of everything else, she unzipped her purse, rummaged around inside for a few seconds, and then took out her phone.

She almost dropped it right away.

_No way_ , she thought, staring at the words on the screen in astonishment. _No freaking way._

She clicked on the message notification, and there on the screen was a little grey word bubble from a number that hadn’t texted her in years. From a _person_ who hadn’t texted her in years. And yet here, right now, were two words that brought her right back to a simpler time.

_Hey, Princess._

Staring at her screen, stunned, she wondered if she was seeing things. She even blinked her eyes a few times, just to be sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. But _Hey, Princess_ stayed right there, never changing, almost daring her to attempt to formulate some kind of coherent response. As if she could even do that.

She could hardly believe it. It’d been so long that she didn’t even have his name and number stored in her phone anymore, and to be quite honest, she was impressed if he still had hers. More than likely, though, he’d had to ask someone for it. Right? Not that it mattered. He was texting her. Two words, but it was enough.

It was _Bellamy._

****

_Clarke’s chest heaved as she struggled to bring in any breath after another grueling run-through of the homecoming routine. Whoever said cheerleaders weren’t athletes didn’t know what the hell they were talking about._

_“Okay, girls, good practice,” Raven said as the squad lumbered towards their bags. “But keep practicing at home. It still doesn’t look right.”_

_The girls groaned, and some complained about how sweaty and sore they were. Clarke waited until they had all left to approach her best friend and remark, “It still looks like crap.” Tina kept getting out of formation, and Andrea still had a habit of breaking her wrists in a high-V._

_“Well, of course,” Raven said, “but I can’t tell them that. It’s too de-motivating.”_

_Clarke shrugged and set her pom-poms down atop her own bag. Personally, she didn’t mind the blunt criticism, but they had a lot of uber-sensitive girls on the squad this year, including a couple freshmen who looked like they might cry anytime someone pointed out their mistakes. Raven was a good captain because she knew that positive encouragement went a long way with them._

_“Don’t worry, it’ll come together in time for the pep rally,” Raven assured her. “It always does.” She yanked off her practice tank top, replacing it with the shirt she’d worn to school that day, and asked, “You need a ride home or something?”_

_“No, I drove.”_

_“In your new car?” Raven sighed wistfully. “God, I wish I had one of those.”_

_“Well, I wish I had a boyfriend,” Clarke muttered. “So that makes us even.”_

_Raven smirked, reaching up to take her brown hair out of its signature ponytail. “True. And I guess I would rather ride on my boyfriend than ride in your car.”_

Can’t say I blame her there, _Clarke thought. Raven’s boyfriend was hot and smart, a great but all too rare combination. “Hey, speaking of that . . .” she segued awkwardly._

_“Of riding my boyfriend?”_

_“No. Well, sex, actually,” Clarke clarified._

_Raven’s eyebrows shot up in interest._

_“You and Zeke have been doing it for, what, a couple months now?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“And you don’t regret it, right?”_

_Raven replied without hesitation, “No, not at all. He was ready, I was ready. We’re safe.”_

_Clarke wasn’t on the pill yet herself, but she’d watched enough condom videos on YouTube to know how one was supposed to look when it was securely put on. “I really wanna lose my v-card,” she admitted quietly._

_Raven laughed, running her hands through her hair to smooth out the bump her ponytail had left. “Well, you gotta get a boyfriend first.”_

_“I don’t have to,” she claimed._

_Momentarily, Raven froze with one hand in her hair. She gave Clarke a curious look, then said, “Wait a minute, wait a minute, what’re you saying? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”_

_“I’m just . . . I’m tired of being the good girl,” Clarke confessed. It wasn’t exactly a_ bad _reputation to have, but it got kind of boring after a while. “I wanna do something unexpected.”_

_Raven grunted. “Well, sleeping with some random guy would definitely be unexpected.”_

_“He doesn’t have to be random,” Clarke said. “We have plenty of guys here to choose from.”_

_“Oh, please,” Raven scoffed. “Clarke, half the guys who go to this school still think Justin Bieber hair is an acceptable look. And the other half barely even know what a vagina is, let alone how to work with one.”_

_Damn, when she really thought about it . . . Raven was right. Arkadia was a relatively small town with a typical small school. There were only about sixty students in every class, and if she did the math and approximated that only half of them were males . . . minus the freshmen, because she wasn’t willing to lose her virginity to a freshman . . . “Okay, you’re right,” she decided. “ So I have a small pool of guys to choose from.”_

_Raven folded her arms across her chest and gave her a serious look. “Let me ask you something: How far did you get with Wells?”_

Oh, good old Wells, _Clarke thought. She’d bumped into him in the hallway today—literally—and they’d done that thing where they tried to step around each other but both kept stepping the same direction., therefore staying in each other’s way. “Second base,” she recalled. “Right? That’s the boob one.”_

_“I don’t know. I lose track,” Raven said. “That’s not very far.”_

_“Exactly.” A little under the shirt touching was nice and all, but there was so much_ more _she wanted to explore, so many more things she wanted to experience. “I feel like I’m behind.”_

_“You are_ not _behind,” Raven assured her emphatically. “You just turned sixteen. There’s no rush.”_

_“But I wanna rush.” Clarke was well aware how impulsive and reckless it sounded, but she felt like she was gonna go out of her mind if she didn’t get to start acting more grown-up soon. And part of being a grown-up was having sex for the first time. And then for a second time, and a third. “I wanna do something new, something exciting. I mean, every day, I just go through these routines. School, cheer practice, go home and do homework. Then I wake up the next morning and show up early for student council or book club, and it’s all just the same exact thing.”_

_“So you think sex is gonna spice up your life?” Raven asked._

_“Why wouldn’t it?”_

_“Because most guys don’t know what they’re doing at this age, Clarke.”_

_“You said Zeke does,” she pointed out._

_“Yeah, I lucked out. Big time.” Raven grinned. “Emphasis on_ big.”

_“So then I’ll hook up with somebody experienced,” Clarke declared. The thing about small towns was that people_ did _start having sex in high school a lot. It wasn’t like they had anything better to do._

_“Why not just wait until you’re in love?” Raven implored._

_“Because it’s taking too long, and I’m getting impatient.” Sure, she hoped to be in love someday. Deep, true love like her parents had for each other. But until then . . . she just wanted to have some fun._

_“Okay. Let’s just say I’m supporting this,” Raven said, “which I’m not. What are your standards?”_

_As shallow as it sounded, somebody fit and good-looking wouldn’t hurt. “Attractive,” she began to list off. “Considerate and attentive in bed. Knowledgeable.”_

_“About sex?”_

_“Yeah. I just want somebody who’ll make it . . . exhilarating.” It was kind of a rush just thinking about it. She’d lain awake countless nights imagining how good it could be. Sure, there’d be the initial pain, and Raven had mentioned that there was bleeding, too, but once she got over that . . . sky was the limit._

_“Exhilarating, huh?” Raven echoed. “I don’t know if you’re gonna find that here.”_

_Clarke was about to start brainstorming some potential male candidates when the door to the gymnasium opened, and in came two football players. One she recognized right away, because his jersey was all over that field on Friday nights, oftentimes celebrating in the end zone. Number seven. Bellamy Blake. He took off his helmet when he came inside, shaking out his dark, sweaty hair. It clung to his forehead, so he pushed it back, revealing his brown eyes and the freckles on his face._

_He was_ so _hot. Everyone thought so._

_Bellamy’s friend, the starting running back, Nathan Miller, was with him. He was a good-looking guy, too, but there were all sorts of rumors that he was into other guys, so that ruled him out. But Bellamy was_ definitely _into girls, and girls were definitely into him. A couple girls on the cheerleading squad claimed to either have slept with him or given him a blow-job. They liked to brag about it a lot._

_Neither one of the two guys paid much attention to her or Raven, as they were laughing about something else. They were loud, and they pushed and shoved each other on the way to the locker room._

Bingo, _Clarke thought as inspiration struck. She’d just found her attractive, experienced guy. She grinned at Raven._

_“Are you kidding me?” her friend spat. “Bellamy Blake?”_

_“Why not? He meets all my criteria. Or so I’ve heard.”_

_“Yeah, me, too, but . . . Clarke.” Raven gave her a look. “Come on. Bellamy’s a senior. He’s_ way _more experienced than you. Plus, it’s kind of just a one-and-done deal with him, either that or casual hookups here and there. Not that I would know, but that’s what everyone says.”_

_“That’s fine. That’s all I need.” She wanted to lose her virginity. Whether or not she gained a boyfriend in the process was irrelevant, and to be honest, she didn’t even expect that of Bellamy._

_“Do you even really know him?” Raven pressed._

_“I’ve said hi to him in the halls, at parking lot parties.” He was two grades above her, so it wasn’t like she had classes with him or a locker in the same hallway or anything. “Oh, and he told me he liked my swimsuit at the car wash we did this summer.”_

_“Of course he did,” Raven mumbled. “Look, Clarke . . . I like Bellamy. Everybody likes Bellamy. But doing it for the first time with him . . . that’s like the big leagues. Maybe you should take it down a notch or two.”_

_“I already tried that with Wells,” Clarke reminded her. “There was no chemistry.”_

_“What makes you think you’ll have chemistry with Bellamy?”_

_“Only the fact that everyone has chemistry with him.”_

_Raven sighed, resigned to the truth of that. “Yeah, you’re right. I totally had a crush on him back in the day. I swear, the first day he smiled at me was when I hit puberty.”_

_“See? He’s hot,” Clarke said. In fact, hot wasn’t even a strong enough word. “He’s sexy.” Being an athlete, Bellamy had some_ nice _muscle definition, especially in his arms. Those biceps . . . they were good biceps to have. And she’d seen him down at the basketball court by the park a few times, playing shirtless. Which was nice. “Why wouldn’t I wanna have sex with him?” she said, letting her imagination run wild, wondering what all he could teach her._

_“Do me a favor,” Raven urged. “Just . . .” She pressed her hands together in a prayer position and pointed them at Clarke. “Just think this through, okay? Zeke and I are sleeping together because we love each other. It’s a really big deal. Once you give up your virginity, you can never get it back.”_

I know, _Clarke thought. Her mom was a doctor. They’d had the sex talk when she’d been nine years old._

_“Promise me you’ll give it some thought?” Raven pleaded._

_Clarke nodded. “I promise.”_

_“Okay.” Raven smiled at her, zipped up her cheer bag, then slung it over her shoulder. “I gotta get home. Dad’s cooking dinner tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”_

_“Bye,” Clarke said, waving at her and taking a seat on the bleachers as she walked out of the gym. She took her time sifting through her own over-stuffed bag, rearranging stuff inside to make room for her already-crumpled pom-poms. She even tried to fluff them out a bit, pulling out the green and silver metallic ribbons, trying to stretch out the wrinkles._

_She didn’t give a crap about her poms, though. Not really. Sure, they were nicer when they were fluffier, but that was just so not a priority in her mind right now. In fact, her mind was_ very _elsewhere. Maybe in the locker room with Bellamy Blake._

_It was pretty obvious that she was stalling, reluctant to leave until Bellamy came back out again. She wasn’t sure what her plan was here, especially if he was still with Miller. It’d be better to talk to him alone, maybe just try to strike up a friendly conversation, let him know that she was interested, put herself on his radar._

_When the door to the locker room opened, she swung her head sharply in that direction, at first disappointed to just see Miller coming out. He half-waved at her, and she smiled back, and her heartrate sped up when she realized what this meant. Miller had left, so . . . Bellamy was alone now. Just him in that locker room. All the other football guys had come in earlier, about a half an hour ago. And they’d all left._

_She bit her fingernails nervously, trying to work up the courage to do it. So what if she’d just gotten done with a two-hour cheer practice and probably didn’t look her best? She was wearing short black shorts and a tight pink t-shirt that really emphasized her chest. It wasn’t like she looked_ bad _even though she didn’t have Raven’s enviable ability to look like a supermodel at all times._

You have to do it now, _she told herself, shooting to her feet_ , otherwise you might not get the chance.

_She darted across the gym floor and ducked right into the boy’s locker room. Immediately, her nose was assaulted with the smell of sweat and Axe body spray. It was disgusting. But something a lot less disgusting was the sight of Bellamy at his gym locker, every inch of his freshly-showered tan skin making her salivate as he tugged his jeans up over his black boxer briefs._

_She froze right there by the door, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights._

_Although he looked a bit surprised to see a girl in there, he grinned a bit and said, “Hey, Clarke.”_

_“Hey,” she managed to get out. Her heart felt like it was running a marathon in her chest. Despite her determination, she was so nervous._

_He waited a second for her to say something more, but when she didn’t, he said, “I think you’ve got the wrong locker room.”_

_“No,” she said. “I mean, yeah, I know I do, but . . . I don’t.”_

_Clearly he wasn’t even going to try to make sense of her rambling, because he just said, “Okay, then,” as he put on his shirt._

_“I wanted to talk to you,” she blurted, trying not to dwell on her disappointment at no longer seeing him shirtless._

_“To me?” he echoed._

_“Yeah.” She realized most girls probably just texted him or stopped him in the hall instead of barging into the locker room, but hey, nothing wrong with being different._

_“About what?” he asked._

_“You,” she said, letting her eyes flit down to his crotch for just a moment. “Me.”_

_“You and me?” he said slowly._

_She rolled her eyes at herself, feeling like she was just going to talk in vague circles if she kept going like this. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it,” she announced, taking a deep breath before the words spilled out of her mouth: “I wanna have sex, Bellamy. With you.”_

_His eyes widened with intrigue. “With me?”_

_“Yeah. That can’t possibly be surprising.”_

_“Well, not to sound like an ass, but . . . it’s not,” he said. Closing his locker, he sauntered towards her, stopping just a few feet away. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “This is new. I don’t know if a girl’s ever been quite this blunt before.”_

_“Sorry,” she mumbled._

_“No, it’s fine. It’s, uh . . .” He smiled at her. “It’s refreshing. No beating around the bush. I like it.”_

_She smiled back, wondering if he was trying to be flirty, or if he talked to all girls with this same look on his face, the same gleam in his eye. Bellamy was_ super _popular with everyone in their school, so flirting probably came easy to him. “So do you wanna have sex with me?” she pressed, needing an answer. Either she’d just embarrassed herself horribly and the whole football team would know about this tomorrow, or she’d just put the wheels in motion for something_ big _to happen with the guy who was going to be crowned homecoming king next week._

_“Well, sure,” he replied without hesitation. “Look at you.” His eyes roamed up and down her body, causing her to blush. “But I don’t really know you that well, Clarke.”_

_“Well, we could_ get _to know each other if we have sex together,” she pointed out._

_He chuckled, so easy-going about this whole thing, even though she’d technically ambushed him in here. Moving a bit closer still, he backed her up against the wall and pressed one hand onto the tile beside her head. “You ever done it before?”_

_“What, sex? Oh, yeah. All the time,” she lied. “Not that I’m a slut or anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with having sex a lot. You’re not a slut, either.”_

_He grinned at her in amusement. “Thanks.”_

_“You’re welcome.” She cringed inwardly._ You’re welcome? _Why couldn’t flirtatiousness be_ her _default setting, too?_

_“You don’t have to lie to me,” he told her, bending his head down. His face was so close to hers now, almost close enough to kiss. “Are you a virgin?”_

_Obviously he knew what angle she was working here, so she figured she’d might as well just own up to it. “Is it that obvious?”_

_“No,” he assured her, threading his fingers through her long, blonde hair. “I can just tell.”_

_What, did he have like a virgin radar or something?_

_“I’ve been a lot of girls’ first time, Clarke,” he explained. “I know that look.”_

_“What look?” she asked, barely able to concentrate because he smelled so freaking good. Definitely_ not _like Axe body spray._

_“The nervous kind,” he replied._

_“I’m not nervous,” she insisted, and that was at least halfway true. “I wanna do this. I’ve thought about it a lot.” Before today, she’d never let herself entertain the possibility of having her first time with a senior, but now . . . it seemed entirely possible._

_“Why me?” he asked her._

_She could have launched into a laundry list of reasons, starting with how sexy his low, gravelly voice was. But she summed it up with, “Because you’re you,” and hoped that would suffice._

_His eyes locked onto hers. He wasn’t looking away._

_“So?” she said, feeling like she’d somehow hooked him. “Have I managed to convince you?”_

_He smirked sexily. “I was convinced the second you walked in.”_

_She almost swore she felt her heart flutter in anticipation as he closed his eyes and leaned in further. His mouth dove straight onto hers, and he kissed her hotly, passionately right from the start. It wasn’t like kissing Wells, where neither one of them could quite decide which way to lean their heads and sometimes teeth got in the way. It was just this natural,_ amazing _kiss, different than any kiss she’d ever had before. He totally knew what he was doing, and her mouth just seemed to fit with his, like two pieces of a puzzle. She savored the brush of his tongue against hers, and the feel of his hand on her waist drove her wild._

_She touched his sides, moaning into his mouth as he pressed in closer. His whole body felt so toned and strong and so much bigger than hers, and the way he had her pinned back against that wall was . . . exhilarating. Just the way she’d wanted it to be._

_For some reason, though, just as things were starting to heat up and his hands had begun to crawl underneath the back of her shirt, he stopped, pulled back, and just looked down at her._

_“What?” she asked, eager to just keep going. If merely_ kissing _Bellamy Blake felt that electric, she could only imagine what sex would be like._

_He looked around for a moment, then said, “Not here.”_

_Truth be told, she’d been so caught up in making out just now that she’d almost forgotten they were in the boys locker room. If he’d wanted to do it there, then she would have been willing to go for it, but in all reality, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable location for her first time. “Then where do you wanna go?” she asked, hoping he had somewhere else in mind._

_An hour later, after following him to his house, Clarke found herself in Bellamy Blake’s bed, underneath him with her knees bent, legs spread as he fucked into her. Things had started out slowly enough, with him bringing her into his bedroom and making out for about ten minutes. When the clothes had come off, he’d lavished considerable attention to her breasts with his mouth, and that had felt_ amazing. _Then he’d proceeded to use his fingers to do some fucking incredible things between her legs. He’d kept having to tell her to keep her legs spread, though, because she kept squeezing them together self-consciously._

_When it had come time for the actual sex part of sex, she’d felt pretty wet down there, and Bellamy had lathered up his latex-sheathed cock with some lube to make things easier. But Bellamy was . . . endowed. She’d known that because one of the other cheerleaders had sketched a diagram. But she hadn’t realized until he was pushing in the tip of his dick just how big he was. That in and of itself was_ painful. _Just a sharp, searing pain the moment he penetrated her. He’d stopped, of course, and was nice enough to ask her if she was okay, and eventually, when she’d told him he could keep going, he’d pushed in farther. The pain receded a bit, but she still felt a lot of pressure as her body stretched to accommodate him. Bellamy had, like, a porn star dick. And yes, she’d watched just a little bit of porn just to know what porn star dicks looked like._

_The whole bed was rocking now, the mattress squeaking as he thrust in and out at a steady pace. She had a feeling he wasn’t as deep as he could have been, wasn’t going as hard as he probably wanted to, but he was definitely still moving. Beneath him, she moaned and whimpered, not quite sure what sounds to make, so she just squeezed her eyes shut, held onto his arms and shoulders, and made whatever sounds felt natural._

_Bellamy had gone non-verbal, too. His face was buried against the side of her neck, where he’d sucked her skin so vigorously that he’d probably left a hickey, and his slick chest slid against hers. That shower he’d taken after football practice had been a complete waste, because he was working up a sweat._

_She was sweating, too, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if she looked gross. She worried about the faces she was making, too. What if they were just not attractive? What if Bellamy looked down at her after he was done and asked himself what the hell he’d been thinking when he agreed to this?_

_As much as she just wanted to be in the moment and enjoy herself, it was hard to do that when she was still feeling a slight amount of pain down there. That plus the constant fretting about whether she was measuring up to his standards here . . . it made it hard to surrender to anything, so she wasn’t anywhere close to orgasming when he jerked his hips into her, growled against her shoulder, and came. Or at least she assumed he came, because he stopped thrusting after that and just lay atop her for a moment, holding himself up on his forearms, even though he had to be exhausted._

He’s still inside me, _Clarke registered as she lay still beneath him, almost afraid to move. The most popular guy in school literally had his huge cock inside her body. Hymen broken. She wasn’t a virgin any longer._

_Gradually, he lifted his hips up a bit and pulled out of her, but it wasn’t like the pain left her body when he did. She felt stretched and sore and was so worried about how much she may have bled just now, but he’d put a towel down beneath her, so . . . at least it wasn’t like this was new territory for him._

_He rolled off of her and onto his back, reached down, and took the condom off, then disposed of it in the trash can next to his bed. Clarke just lay there, looking around at the bedroom she’d barely even gotten to see before he’d gotten her on the bed. There were posters covering the blue walls, posters of NFL players and various beautiful women. Along with that was a busted basketball hoop on the back of his door, and a shelf full of trophies and athletic awards he’d collected over the years. Such a boy’s room, so different than her own._

_Clarke had no idea what post-sex etiquette may have existed, wasn’t sure whether to say anything or not. But it felt weird to just lie there in silence, so she decided to pipe up. “So that was sex, huh?” she said, not quite sure . . . what to think of it._

_“Yep,” he said, sounding out of breath and tired._

_It definitely hadn’t been what she’d anticipated. The fingering had been really fun, and she wanted to try some stuff with her own hands sometime later when she wasn’t so sore. The actual act itself had been . . . fine. Not mind-blowing the way she’d hoped, but she didn’t feel like Bellamy was to blame for that. She was a girl, and girls didn’t tend to have the same experience losing their virginity that guys had._

_“Was it, um . . .” She felt embarrassed to ask her next question, but she really wanted—no, needed—to know. “Was I . . . good?”_

_“You were great,” he said, smiling dazedly. He nudged his hand against hers, then apologized, “Sorry you didn’t cum.”_

_“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she assured him quickly, not wanting him to feel bad about that. “It was my first time, and I read some stuff online about how most girls don’t have an orgasm the first time, because . . . well, because it’s painful.” She had a feeling she might still be sore tomorrow, too, but hopefully she wasn’t walking funny. And hopefully she would no longer be hurting when it came time to dance in the homecoming pep rally._

_“You read online,” he echoed, laughing a little. “You’re a reader, huh?”_

_It was one of her hobbies, lame as it may have been. “I’m in Book Club,” she informed him._

_He snorted. “Not me.”_

_If Bellamy had joined the book club, they’d end up recruiting a lot more members._

_“Yeah, it hurts the first time, but it’ll get better,” he promised her. “Next time I’ll make you cum.”_

_Even though he’d started to roll over onto his side, looking like he wanted to just go to sleep, Clarke couldn’t help but pick up on one very poignant part of that sentence. “Next time?” she questioned._

_“Yeah.”_

_Her heart started to do that fluttering thing again. Bellamy was already thinking about doing this again? Maybe that meant it really_ had _been good for him._ She’d _been good._

_Clearly he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, so she didn’t want to, either. She played it cool, not saying anything, and just lay there with him, pulling the blankets up over her chest. It wasn’t like she was going to nod off or anything, but maybe she could just recuperate for a couple minutes. Then, before she overstayed her welcome, she’d get up, clean up any mess she may have made as best she could, get dressed, and try to slip out unnoticed. He said his mom didn’t care if he brought girls home, but she didn’t want to test that theory._

I just had sex, _she thought excitedly as she lay next to him, gradually finding it easier to concentrate on the feelings of excitement coursing through her body rather than the feeling of dull pain between her legs._ I just had sex with Bellamy fucking Blake.

****

_Hey, Princess._ Clarke kept reading the two words over and over again. Her thumb hovered over the keypad, unable to text anything back.

She probably would have just kept standing there, staring at the screen like an idiot, had she not gotten a phone call to shake her out of her stupor. It was Raven, unsurprisingly, and Clarke answered right away. “Raven . . .” She didn’t even know what else to say.

“Okay, I know you probably have a good reason for forgetting about lunch today,” her friend said. “Right? Because that’s not like you.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. She actually did have a good reason, but she didn’t even feel like talking about that right now. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” she vowed. “But Raven, you’ll never believe what just happened.”

“You met someone?” Raven asked eagerly.

“No, I got a text.”

“Oh.”

“From Bellamy,” Clarke added, waiting for her best friend’s own shocked reaction. And it didn’t disappoint.

“ _What?_ ” Raven gasped, inhaling the loudest, most dramatic breath possible. “You’re kidding me.”

“No, he literally just texted me.” She had to text him back soon. Didn’t want him to think she was being standoffish.

“What’d he say?”

She actually blushed as she revealed, “He called me Princess.”

Raven squealed, literally _squealed_ , with delight. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“What, is he, like, in town or something?”

“I don’t know.” Her phone dinged again, and when she checked the screen . . . another grey text bubble from Bellamy. This one was a bit wordier. _I’m at Eligius_ , it said. _Wanna come hang out?_

“Oh my god,” she said, wandering over to the bed so she could sit down instead of falling over.

“What?”

“He wants to meet up with me.”

Again, Raven gasped. “So what’re you waiting for?” she exclaimed. “Quit talking to me and get going.”

_Should I?_ she wondered. What if it was a mistake? High school had been a long time ago, and . . . a lot had changed since then. “I don’t know . . .” she mumbled unsurely.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Raven shrieked. “Clarke, you _know_ you wanna go see him. Now get your keys, get in that fancy little car of yours, and drive.”

God, she was right. After seven years of friendship, Raven Reyes knew her pretty damn well. “Okay,” she said, trying to recapture some of that courage she’d had when she’d barged into the locker room all those years ago. “Okay, I’m gonna go. I’ll call you later with details, though, alright?”

“Mmm-hmm. _Sure_.” Raven sounded skeptical.

“I’ll call you later,” Clarke promised before ending the call. She and Bellamy weren’t walking, talking teenage hormones anymore. They were adults, no longer slaves to the passion but rather two grown people perfectly capable of sitting down at the bar and having a nice, relaxed conversation.

But still . . .

She made sure to fix her hair a little bit, swapped out her current bra for her best one, and reapplied some lip gloss before darting downstairs and out the front door. As she climbed into her car, she allowed herself to feel genuinely good for the first time that day and texted him back, _Be there soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos as this story gets started! I will try to respond to some comments on each update.

_Chapter 2_

The drive to Eligius Bar & Grill only took Clarke fifteen minutes. In fact, driving anywhere in Arkadia only took fifteen minutes. Which meant Clarke only had that short amount of time to prepare herself for whatever was about to happen. In her head, she still had visions of high school Bellamy, all fit and toned and effortlessly smoldering. What if he’d gotten out of shape over the years, like so many boys in her graduating class seemed to have? And what if he didn’t find _her_ as attractive as he used to, either? Not that it really mattered. They were just hanging out tonight. Nothing more.

When she pulled up outside the bar, she immediately scanned the small parking lot for his old red truck from high school. That thing had seen better days even five years ago, so she wasn’t surprised not to see it now. He probably had a new car, a better one. Probably still a used one, though, if his financial situation was still . . . the same.

She took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves and reminded herself that this was someone who, at one point in life, had pretty much been her closest companion, the only person to know her better than her own best friend did. Even if things were a little awkward between them at first, hopefully that awkwardness would just melt away and take her nerves right along with it.

After checking her makeup and hair one more time in her rearview mirror, she got out of the car, taking only her wallet and phone with her because she wasn’t in the mood to be encumbered with a purse all night. She locked her doors and then crossed the parking lot, trying to spot him through the window.

A horrible thought occurred to her as she reached for the door handle. What if Bellamy wasn’t alone when she showed up? He knew a lot of people in this town, and in particular he was a _big_ hit with the women. What if he’d found someone, either an old fuck buddy or someone new, and was striking up a conversation with her right this very moment?

All those worries vanished at once when she caught sight of his familiar frame sitting at a table for two. With an empty chair across from him. His back was to her, but there was no way she wouldn’t have recognized him. His broad shoulders looked even broader, his muscular stature still muscular. His thick, dark hair was still all over the place, but it looked slightly longer, the perfect length for her to run her fingers through it. Not that she was about to do that.

_Here goes nothing_ , she thought, bravely weaving through tables towards him. She wasn’t sure what to do or say, so she just tapped his shoulder and said, “Hey, stranger.”

He looked over his shoulder, revealing a brand new beard and an instant smile on his face. “Clarke,” he exclaimed, standing up. “Hey.” He hugged her right away, almost as if no time had passed, and when his arms were around her . . . it kind of felt like they were right back in high school for a second. His hugs were the same as she remembered—strong and amazing, just like him.

“Hey,” she said, breathing in the familiar scent of him. Cologne, but not too much of it.

“Damn,” he said, slowly letting go of her. “Time warp. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, then she pretended not to know exactly how many years it’d been since they’d last seen each other when she asked, “How long now?”

“Five years.”

“Wow.” It really had been half a decade, hadn’t it? Half a decade, but he still looked _so_ good. If anything, he looked even better than he had in high school, and she hadn’t thought that was possible. But this facial hair . . . it was really working for him.

“How you been?” he asked her. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” She tried not to blush. “Yeah, I’ve been—I’ve been good,” she replied. “What about you?”

“Oh, it’s been crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Here, sit down.” He motioned to the empty chair across the table, and she took a seat with him. “You want a drink?” he offered.

Normally, she would have, but not tonight. “No, thanks. I’m good,” she declined. “So . . . this is unexpected. What brings you back here?” She knew that he’d come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas years ago, but . . . well, she’d gone out of town for the holidays.

“I, uh . . . I moved back actually,” he informed her.

“What?” Her mind instantly started to spin. He’d _moved_ back? As in . . . for good?

“Yeah, just got in yesterday,” he went on. “But I was with my mom and my sister, so . . .”

Of course he had been. Bellamy and his family were super close, even if he hadn’t seen them much the past couple years. “Right,” she said, still trying to process this. Five years ago, Bellamy had moved away. And now . . . now he’d come home.

“Anyway, I heard you were in college here,” he said, “so I thought I’d . . . you know.”

“Yeah.” So he thought he’d send her a _Hey, Princess_ text that would make her completely forget about everything else in the world. “I’m glad you did,” she told him. “I wasn’t really having the best day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he sympathized.

“No, it’s okay. It’s better now.” She _really_ didn’t want to sound like a crushed-out high schooler, even though that was the Clarke Griffin he knew, so she simply said, “It’s really good to see you, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, you, too,” he agreed, smiling at her. “Like I said, you look great. I like the hair.”

“Thanks.” She touched her shorter locks, so far not at all regretting her spontaneous decision a few months ago to chop most of her hair off. “And I like your beard.”

“Is it rugged? Is it manly?” he asked. “That’s what I was goin’ for.”

“It’s very manly,” she assured him. Normally, she wasn’t a big fan of facial hair on men, but Bellamy really pulled it off. Hell, Bellamy could pull anything off: a football uniform, a tux, that ridiculous crown they’d made him wear at the homecoming coronation.

“So catch me up,” he urged after he took a drink of the beer in front of him. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Me?” She was less interested in talking about herself and way more interested in hearing about him. “Well, college, mostly.”

“Music or art?” he asked.

She made a face. “Biology.”

“Ah.” He nodded slowly.

“Yeah, and that keeps me pretty busy.” She was planning to graduate with honors in the spring, so she studied a lot, but that wasn’t exciting. “Let’s see, what else?” She wracked her brain for something even somewhat interesting. “I still hang out with Raven. She’s still my best friend. But she has a different boyfriend now. Murphy. He’s such a kook.” She shook her head, laughing as she thought about him. He definitely wasn’t Raven’s type, but they sort of balanced each other out. “And . . . I don’t know, I guess that’s pretty much it.”

“How are your parents?” he inquired.

“They’re fine,” she answered, but their relationship had changed pretty drastically in the years that he’d left, so she added, “They got divorced a couple years ago.”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay. It was for the best.” It still saddened her to think about it, and it got harder around the holidays, usually, but she was coping. “And my dad moved, up to Baltimore, and my mom has a boyfriend. They’ve been dating for two years now.”

“Hmm.” He took another drink, then stared at her intently and asked, “What about you?”

“Do _I_ have a boyfriend?” Was that what he was asking?

“Or a girlfriend. Whichever.”

She smiled, loving that he was still so casual about her bisexuality. “No, not right now. But I _did_ finally come out my freshman year of college.”

“Nice,” he said. “How’d everyone take it?”

She shrugged. “It was mixed. Raven kind of suspected, but my parents had no clue. I mean, they weren’t _thrilled_ , and I think bisexuality confuses them because they don’t understand why I don’t just pick a team, even though I’ve tried to tell them it doesn’t work that way. But it could’ve been worse.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad you finally told everybody.”

“Yeah.” It’d been nerve-racking as hell, probably one of the scariest things she’d ever done in her life. But nowadays, it felt good to just be honest, to be herself. “For a long time, you were the only one who knew,” she said, so grateful to have had him in high school. It hadn’t _all_ been sex between the two of them. There had been countless hours of conversation, too, some of it the more serious kind. And coming out to him had been a big first step in coming out to everyone else. “What about you, though?” she asked, still eager to hear what he had been up to. “I’m sure your life’s been much more exciting than mine.”

“Oh, it’s been a whirlwind,” he said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “How much do you know?”

“Well, your lack of social media makes it hard to keep up,” she said.

“Hate that shit.”

She laughed. “But I did watch a couple UCF football games, just to see if you would play.”

He shrugged modestly. “Just a couple snaps. I was the backup.”

“And then . . .” She hesitated, not sure if she should admit that she knew anything more than that. “Then I heard you quit after your freshman year. Dropped out.”

“Yep,” he confirmed, nodding. She wasn’t about to be nosy and ask why that was, but luckily, he summed it up with, “College just wasn’t for me.”

She understood. College was expensive, so time-consuming, and sometimes a pain in the ass, even for someone like her. Classes had always been a breeze for her, all her life. But they were harder for Bellamy, just didn’t come quite as easily. “So where’d you go then?” she asked. He hadn’t come home, so he must have either stayed in Florida or relocated somewhere else. Most of what she’d heard from people over the years were probably rumors.

“All over the place,” he answered. “Drove out to California, stayed there for about a year. Then I went to Canada.”

“Canada, eh?” she teased.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Canada was cool. Then . . . where’d I go after that? I was up in Alaska for about a month, but that was way too cold, so then I moved to Mexico when I was twenty-one. Stayed there for a couple months, and then I went across the pond.”

“Europe. Wow.” She felt her eyes bulge as she drew out this mental map of all of Bellamy’s travels.

“Yeah, all over Europe. Started out in London, then . . . I can’t remember where I went after that. Maybe Germany? I don’t know. Either Germany or France.”

Maybe the rumors hadn’t been all that exaggerated after all then. She’d heard people say he was working as a male model in France. Maybe the modeling part wasn’t true, but . . . it could have been. Bellamy was good-looking enough.

“But that was just for a couple weeks,” he said. “Then last year I ended up in Italy.”

“Italy?” God, she was envious. All that good authentic Italian food? The closest she’d ever gotten was the Epcot World Showcase in Disney World. “So you just kind of bounced around, huh?”

“Yeah. It was fun,” he said. “I saw lots of cool stuff.”

“Like the Eiffel Tower and the Leaning Tower of Pisa?” she asked.

“Yeah. I didn’t climb up in either of ‘em, though. But I got to see a lot of stuff. Lots of historical sites.”

“Right up your alley then.” Bellamy had always liked history.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“So what did you do for work?” she asked, curious to find out if the modeling stories were true. “Or did you just, like, find random people to live with?”

“No, I worked,” he said. “I, uh . . . I was a waiter out in California, but I _did_ do a couple amateur strip nights to pay the bills.”

“Oh my god.” She laughed just picturing that. Bellamy had below-average rhythm, so his dancing had probably been horrendous, but she felt certain he’d put on one hell of a show.

“And I learned to snowboard up in Canada, so then I gave lessons a while,” he said. “And Mexico . . .” His sentence trailed off, and he made a face. “I don’t really remember much of Mexico. I think I partied a lot there.”

_With beautiful Mexican women, no doubt_ , Clarke thought. Bellamy had probably added a lot of people to his already long list of sexual partners these past few years.

“I worked at a pub in London,” he went on. “Then I was a gondolier in Venice.”

“Shut up, you were not.”

“No, I really was.”

What the hell? She had an easier time picturing him up on a stripping pole than she did standing on the back of one of those little boats in the Venice canals. “You, like, rowed a gondola?”

“Yeah. That was my job.”

She laughed. “That’s so random.”

“It was fun. I liked it,” he said. “That was my favorite job, actually.”

“Oh, wow.” He’d really done a lot of different things since moving away then, and here she was, hadn’t moved at all. Although she hadn’t lived at home for a few years, that house was still only a few minutes’ drive from here, and the only job she’d had was working at the library on campus. Meanwhile, he’d been out there as a freaking _gondolier_. “So you’ve been out there doing all that, and I’ve been here studying biology,” she recapped, shaking her head at how boring she sounded. “God, I feel so lame.”

“No, college isn’t lame,” he assured her. “My sister just started this year. I hope she does half as well as you.”

Yeah, she’d done pretty well, but that didn’t exactly lend itself to any rich storytelling experiences. “So you’ve really been living your best life then, haven’t you?” she said, a bit envious.

“I don’t know about that.” He finished what was left of his beer, then held up his empty bottle to signal the waitress over.

“No, seriously, traveling all over the world, having all sorts of adventures . . .” she said, wondering what other things he’d done that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet. “These past couple years must have been the best years of your life.”

“Not really,” he said, pausing to thank the waitress when she set a new beer down in front of him. He took a swig, his eyes locked onto hers, then revealed, “That was my senior year.”

Her breath hitched for a moment as she allowed herself to get lost in his dark, inviting eyes. His senior year. Yeah. She had fond memories of that year, too.

****

_“Defense! Defense!” the crowd chanted as Polis lined up for the next play. “Defense! Defense!”_

_Clarke felt like she was in a bit of a fog. Try as she might to concentrate on the game in front of her, she was really only interested when Bellamy was out there leading the offense. When he came over to the sideline, her eyes went there right along with him._

_Beside her, Raven yelled, “Come on, let’s get a stop now, Rockets!” and she didn’t need one of the megaphones for her voice to carry. “Clarke,” she said, shooting her a sharp look._

I’m not cheering, _Clarke realized._ I’m supposed to be cheering. _“Let’s go, Big Green!” she yelled, ruffling her pom poms together. Polis ran their play, but they were well short of the first down. As they lined up again, she took another peek at Bellamy, and this time, he was looking back at her. She could barely make out his face beneath his football helmet, but he definitely wasn’t watching the game, either._

_Clarke smiled at him just slightly. She knew she looked cute in her cheerleading outfit, and the skirt was short enough to make her legs look longer than they really were. She didn’t want to be a distraction, but at the same time . . . she liked that he was distracted by her._

_“Fumble on the play,” the announcer declared when Polis lost control of the football on the next play. “Rockets recover!”_

_The crowd erupted, and the guys on the Rockets sideline started jumping up and down excitedly, howling with excitement. Bellamy, Miller, Zeke, and the rest of the offense darted right back out there on the field to take over just beyond the fifty yard line._

_“Let’s go, Bellamy!” Clarke heard someone yell, a female voice blasting out above all the others. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Bellamy’s mom, Aurora, in her usual position, standing up at the top of the bleachers with all the football dads. She had on her number seven jersey and a green Rockets hat._

_“Hey, what’s up with you?” Raven asked suddenly. “You’re spacey.”_

_“No, I’m not,” Clarke denied. It was just that . . . this was her first game cheering since she and Bellamy had slept together. She wasn’t quite sure how to act._

_Raven gave her a look, and much as she often did, she understood what Clarke was thinking without actually having to hear it. “Come on, Clarke,” she said. “If you had sex with the guy, the least you can do is cheer for him.”_

_So far, Raven was the only person she’d told about hooking up with Bellamy, so Clarke was grateful her friend hadn’t blurted that out too loudly. And Raven was right. She was a cheerleader at a football game. No need to act any different than she normally did. “Let’s go, offense!” she yelled. “Woo!”_

_Although she didn’t understand every aspect of football, like all the different kinds of plays or positions or anything like that, Clarke had been to enough games last year to know that Bellamy played the key position. Every play ran through him. And he was the shot-caller out there a lot of the time. The coaches would tell him what play to run, but sometimes it looked like he switched it up midway through, to avoid getting tackled or losing yards or something like that. And that was exactly what happened on the very first play they ran after the other team’s fumble. The center snapped the ball to him, and it looked like he was going to pass. Zeke dashed down the field, but he had a defender on him and wasn’t open. So instead, right as he was about to get sacked, Bellamy took off on his own. He slipped in between two huge defenders and just ran. First down. Then farther than that. Ten more yards, and then ten more after that. The crowd cheered so loudly, Clarke thought she might go deaf, and she and all the cheerleaders jumped up and down excitedly as he ran all the way to the end zone._

_“Blake in for the score!” the announcer boomed. “Touchdown Rockets!”_

_Raven practically pounced on her, squealing excitedly, and Clarke did the same. She’d never been quite so excited about a football game before._

_The other team couldn’t get anything going after that, and the rest of the game was pretty much a blowout. In the fourth quarter, the Rocket coaches even put in the backup quarterback, just to give him some playing time and protect Bellamy from unnecessary injury. Clarke_ tried _to keep her focus on the game, she really did, but . . . that was hard to do._

_After the game, as the guys headed into the locker room to shower off, all the students meandered towards the parking lot for what was an Arkadia high school tradition: a parking lot party. Every time they won a home football game, which was often, they all loitered around afterwards, blasting music out of whoever’s car had the best bass and inconspicuously drinking in backseats. Nothing could get too wild, not with the school having cameras on. But even if it did, Clarke suspected they’d turn a blind eye to it. The football team was Arkadia’s crown jewel of achievement. Those guys could get away with so much, and everyone knew it._

_Clarke sat in the bed of Raven’s truck, feeling a bit unsure of what to do. Last year, because she’d been dating Wells, she hadn’t gone to most of the parking lot parties because they’d hung out a lot on Friday nights after she got done cheering. Plus, she hadn’t had her license then, so her parents had often insisted on coming and picking her up from the game. But this year, now that she had some more independence, she wanted put herself out there and be more involved in all of the bigger social events._

_“You did so good,” Raven told Zeke in between kisses. The two of them definitely needed to get a room, as they’d been right up there by the front of the truck making out for about ten minutes now._

_“I only caught four passes,” Zeke said._

_“Yeah, but one of ‘em was for a touchdown,” Raven reminded her boyfriend._

_“True. I scored.”_

_“And you’re not done scoring.” She laughed and kissed him again._

_They were cute and everything, but Clarke felt like such a third wheel being around them right now. She thought about going to see what some of the other cheerleaders were doing, until she spotted Bellamy emerging from the school. His hair looked damp, and he was in jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt now. So damn hot._

_Trying not to be too obvious, Clarke watched him out of the corner of her eye. He got a lot of fist bumps and bro-hugs from guys, and the girls, including many of the cheerleaders, all just flocked to him. He was like high school royalty or something._

And here I sit by myself, _she grumbled internally. It wasn’t that she was_ un _popular; no, she had friends. But Bellamy’s popularity was at a whole different level. People were drawn to him like bees to a honey jar. It’d always been that way, Clarke assumed, or at least it had been since she’d moved there last year. But she’d never paid as much attention as she now was, because now . . . now she knew what Bellamy’s lips felt like against her own, knew how good his hands felt on her hips. She knew what his dick felt like when it was inside her, and that was still head-spinning to think about._

_Bellamy stopped and talked to Miller for a minute, grabbed a drink, and then, much to Clarke’s surprise, he started coming her way. She purposefully averted her eyes until he said, “Hey.”_

_Snapping her head towards him, she smiled and said, “Oh, hey. Great game.”_

_“Thanks,” he said, taking another drink before he set the can down on the bed of Raven’s truck. “You, too.”_

_“Me?” she echoed, perplexed. “I didn’t really do anything.”_

_“You cheered,” he reminded her. “That’s not easy. I could never do the splits, let alone splits in the air.”_

_It was so refreshing to have one of the athletes actually acknowledge that what the girls on the sidelines did wasn’t as simple as one might think. “It’s called a toe-touch,” she informed him. Her toe-touches sucked, but Raven’s were beyond parallel._

_“Yeah, that.” He grimaced, as if he were imagining it. “That would hurt.”_

_Oh, it did. Especially when she was still a little sore from her first time._

_“So you ready for the dance tomorrow night?” he asked, shuffling from side to side in front of her._

_“Kind of,” she replied, wishing now that she hadn’t taken pity on that freshman named Miles and agreed to be his date. “I’m on Stu-co, so I have to help set up.”_

_“Fun,” he said._

_“No, not really.” It was going to take hours to transform their dingy gymnasium into an interstellar paradise. Because that was the theme of their dance: space. She wasn’t sure why. Some kind of correlation with their school’s mascot, maybe. “What about you, though?” she asked him. “You ready to be crowned homecoming king?”_

_“Ah, who knows if I’ll win?” he said._

_She gave him a look. “Bellamy. Everybody knows. It’s just a formality. And Bree’s gonna get queen, because everyone assumes you guys are, like, a couple or whatever.”_

_“We’re not,” he denied. “We’re just friends.”_

_“With benefits?” Bree wasn’t a cheerleader, but she’d flunked Algebra II one too many times, so Clarke had the ‘privilege’ of sitting by her in there. The girl was a complete ditz, but she was pretty._

_“Sometimes,” Bellamy admitted. “You know what, though?” Leaning forward, he placed one hand on either side of her hips, bending down so his face was mere inches from her own. “Tonight, I’d rather be friends with you.”_

_She inhaled sharply, mind already racing with the possibilities of what that might entail. “What do you mean?” she asked._

_He grinned, suggesting, “Let’s get outta here.”_

_“And go where?”_

_“To my place.”_

_“To do what?”_

_His grin transformed into a full on mischievous smirk. “Something fun.”_

_That had to mean sex, right? Sex was probably the only thing that Bellamy enjoyed as much as he enjoyed football. “I thought you’d wanna stay here,” she said, tilting her head to the side flirtatiously, “celebrate your victory with all your friends.”_

_“Nah,” he said dismissively. “I can celebrate with you.”_

_Eager butterflies danced in her stomach as her mind flashed back to being pinned beneath him, both of them sweaty and desperate. And she remembered that he’d promised her an orgasm next time. So maybe next time was tonight._

_Half an hour later, she found herself once again lying flat on Bellamy’s bed, experiencing something she’d never felt before. This time, instead of climbing on top of her, he got her undressed, made out with her mouth and her breasts for a bit, and then went down on her. Like . . . all the way down._

_“Uh!” she moaned, trying to keep quiet in case his mom or his little sister came home unexpectedly. He’d assured her his mom would be out at Eligius with the football dads for a while, and his little sister was at a sleepover. But if they did happen to walk in the front door, she didn’t want either of them overhearing all the sounds she was making._

_God, it was impossible to stay quiet, though. Bellamy was doing some incredible things down there. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, but it felt so damn good. His tongue licked up and down her pussy, zig-zagging all over the place. And when he flicked his tongue against her clit . . . she saw fireworks._

“Uh!” _She lost total control of her volume when he pressed a finger up inside of her and began to move it in and out. “Oh god . . . oh!” Something was definitely happening, or at least starting to happen. She felt warm and a little bit dizzy, but in_ such _a good way. She kept arching up off the bed, trying to push her pussy even harder against his mouth, and when he inserted a second finger and concentrated his licks on her clit, everything felt nuclear._

I’m gonna die, _she thought as her breathing became more labored._ I’m gonna die because of Bellamy Blake’s tongue.

_He murmured something against her lower lips, something she couldn’t quite make out, but she thought she heard the word ‘cum,’ and that was all it took for her to do just that. Ripples of pleasure shot through her, spreading out from her stomach into every limb. Every single inch of her just tingled and sizzled, and her stomach fluttered as she rode the wave of it._ “Ahh!” _she cried out, scrunching up the bedsheets, curling her toes into the mattress. Good god, this was ecstasy._

_She wasn’t quite sure how long it lasted, or what she looked like as it was happening, but she didn’t care. It felt_ so _good, and it was over all too fast for her liking. She felt wet and slippery between her legs, and Bellamy was still licking at her, almost like he was tasting some of the stuff that may have come out._

_“Oh . . .” She relaxed into the bed, dazed and satiated, and enjoyed the final flicks of his tongue before he lifted his head up, gave her inner thigh a kiss, and then crawled up on the bed to lie down beside her. His fingers looked shiny, as did his lips._

_“Oh my god,” she whispered, feeling like she barely even knew her own name right now. How was she gonna drive home after this? How was she gonna walk up the stairs to her bedroom without drawing the suspicion of her parents?_

_“Did you like that?” he asked her._

_“Yeah.” It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that she’d loved it. When he’d first started kissing his way down her body, she’d been a little self-conscious, but he’d put her at ease; and once he’d started, there’d been no stopping. “That was amazing,” she told him, so impressed with how skilled he was._

_“That was an orgasm,” he said, sounding a bit proud. “Your first, I presume?”_

_“Yeah.” Another first with Bellamy Blake, and she didn’t regret it one bit. She’d heard girls on the squad talking about how incredible he was at oral sex, but experiencing it for herself was something else entirely. “You’re really good at that,” she said, as if he didn’t already know._

_“Years of practice,” he responded. “I like doin’ it. So whenever you want, I’ll do it to you again.”_

Whenever I want? _she thought, trying not to read too much into it or make this whole thing between them into something it wasn’t. But it sounded like an open invitation._

****

“Your senior year was pretty good,” Clarke agreed, trying not to lose herself in the multitude of memories she still cherished from that time. “I had a lot of fun that year, too.”

“What about after I left?” he asked. “Did you ever date anyone else?”

She’d been wondering if he would broach that topic at all. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he’d probably slept with _lots_ of girls all over the world, but her sexual habits were different. She favored real relationships over one-night stands. “No, not until college,” she replied. “I dated a girl my freshman year, and . . . a guy after that.” The girl, Lexa, was still her friend, but the guy was someone she really didn’t feel like talking about, so she quickly changed the subject. “So why’d you come back, though?” she asked him. “I mean, you’ve gone all over the world. Lots of big cities, interesting places. Why come back to Arkadia?”

“Well, it’s home,” he answered without hesitation. “And truth be told . . . I’m kind of ready to settle back down.”

Well, he’d picked the perfect place for it then. Arkadia was a pretty sleepy town. If it wasn’t for the college and the high school, nothing would happen there.

“I’m tired of moving around all the time,” he went on. “That was fine for a couple years, but now . . . I wanna be back here. Octavia’s in college now, and I wanna be around for that.”

“You mean so you can keep an eye on her?” she guessed.

“Possibly, yes.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes, not surprised that he was still the same protective big brother he’d always been. Without a dad around, Bellamy had grown up as the man of the house, and Clarke used to get a kick out of how fatherly he acted with Octavia.

“I missed her a lot,” he admitted, “and my mom, too. I only got to see them a couple times a year, and that wasn’t enough.”

_Did you miss me?_ she wondered. But there was no way she was gonna ask that. Instead, she inquired, “So who else knows you’re back?” thinking of a few people who would be beyond thrilled to see him.

“No one. I called Miller, but that’s it.”

Her eyebrows shot upward. So . . . so he’d really met up with her before meeting up with any of his friends from high school. Okay.

“Like I said, I spent all day with my mom and O yesterday,” he said. “Now I’m here with you.”

_Holy shit_ , she thought. He really had made her this much of a priority.

“You sure you don’t want me to buy you a drink?” he offered again.

No drinks for her tonight, but she did want to spend some more time with him. Eligius was going to get crowded, though. On a Thursday night (Thirsty Thursday among the college crowd), it actually tended to get _too_ crowded in there. “Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested. She liked the thought of getting to roam around town with him instead of just sitting there struggling to hear him once more people came in and it got loud.

Bellamy finished his beer before they left, and though they did contemplate driving around for a minute, the weather was nice and comfortable, so they opted to go on foot. They walked down the main drag, and Bellamy reminded her of the state playoffs parade down that very street. She’d fallen off a float in the middle of a cheer, and it’d been so embarrassing. She laughed about it now, of course.

They strolled past the movie theater, where he nudged her side and reminded her about _Jurassic World_. That movie . . . she couldn’t recall one second of that movie, because she’d spent the entire duration of it up in the top row of seats with Bellamy, making out with him and even giving him a hand-job. He claimed that it was his very favorite movie ever now, for reasons.

The high school wasn’t so much within walking distance, otherwise they probably would have ventured there, too. Instead, they walked across campus, where she pointed out all the buildings she had classes in, as well as her freshman dorm room. He wasn’t sure what dorm Octavia was staying in. All he knew was that she hated her roommate and hated college so far in general.

They walked for over an hour, and by the time they made it back to the bar, the sun was setting. It’d gotten more crowded in there since they’d left, and the table they’d been sitting at appeared to have been taken over by three frat guys.

“Well, here we are,” she said as they stood outside, “right back where we started.”

“Yep.”

She wasn’t ready for the night to end yet, so she quietly mumbled, “I don’t suppose you wanna come see where I’m living now.”

“Sure,” he said without pause. “I’ll follow you.”

So he got into his car—used but new-ish, as she’d expected—and she got into hers, and they drove out to her place. She wasn’t sure what they were gonna do one they got out there. She wasn’t a whiz in the kitchen by any means, but she could probably make him a little something to eat.

When they arrived at her house and he got out of the car, he looked at the place in awe. “A beach house,” he remarked. “Nice. You own this place?”

“No,” she admitted. “But my parents do. Remember how they always wanted to get one?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember them talking about it.”

“Well, they did. But then they divorced before we ever actually got to spend any time here, so now I live here. Alone.” She wasn’t sure why she added that last word on there, maybe just to emphasize that she didn’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Not that that mattered. She and Bellamy weren’t . . . it wasn’t like they could just pick up right where they’d left off. “This is lame, isn’t it?” she said, shaking her head.

“Are you kidding?” he spat. “Look at this place.”

“Yeah, but it’s my parents’. I live in my parents’ beach house.” She’d be twenty-two soon, and no closer to being fully independent.

“So?” he said. “I’m living with my mom.”

“Do you have to pay rent?” she asked.

“No.”

“Oh. I do.”

“See, does that make you feel better then? You’re more of an adult than I am,” he joked.

She couldn’t help but smile. God-dammit, Bellamy always knew how to make her smile.

“Come on,” he said, climbing the front steps, “show me the inside.”

The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside, but she’d never really shown it off to anyone except a few friends before. “Ta-da,” she said as she unlocked and pushed open the door.

“Holy shit,” he swore, looking around in amazement. “This place is nice.”

Yeah, it was. The bottom floor was just one big open space, a living room complete with an electric fireplace, a flat screen TV, and two couches that were more comfortable than most beds. To the right was her kitchen, fully-equipped with all the most recent appliances. Her mom and dad had decided to renovate that when they’d purchased the place. And before she’d moved in at the start of the summer, her mom had gone out and gotten her a brand new table and chairs. It was the perfect place to sit and eat breakfast and gaze out the floor to ceiling windows at the ocean.

“You got a back porch, a whole _beach_ ,” he noted, walking around the living room. In the middle of taking everything in, he stopped, picked up a beige blanket off the back of her recliner, and studied it closely. “I remember this blanket,” he declared.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I remember we were on the couch, under this blanket, and then your parents came home . . .”

“And you were fingering me under the blanket!” she recalled. “Oh my god. And you didn’t stop.”

“No, you just had to pretend you were watching the movie.” He laughed as he reminisced.

“We were so horny,” she said, amazed that neither of her parents had ever walked in on the two of them.

“We really were,” he agreed.

Thinking about sexy times made her start to actually _feel_ a bit horny, and she wondered if he felt it, too. She noticed that his eyes weren’t completely focused on her face. He seemed to be glancing down at her hips and her boobs a bit—Bellamy used to be _obsessed_ with her boobs—and her mouth felt a bit dry as she struggled to fill the intense silence.

“So what’s the upstairs like?” he asked.

“Well, follow me and find out,” she invited, leading the way up the staircase.

“Déjà vu,” he teased from behind her.

“What?”

“You, leading me up to your room.”

Oh, he was definitely not helping the horniness issue when he said things like that.

At the top of the stairs, she motioned to the open door that led to . . . the guest room? Maybe it was supposed to be a guest room, but right now, it was nothing. “That’s just an empty room,” she said. “I don’t really know what to do with it.”

“Art room,” he suggested.

“Hmm.” That’d be nice. “And here’s my grandma’s piano back here,” she said, leading him down the back hall where a beautiful grand piano sat beneath a big double window. “You remember this?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you trying to teach me how to play once.” He pressed down on one of the keys and chuckled.

“Didn’t work out so well,” she recalled. He’d gotten halfway through ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ and declared himself unteachable.

“Do you still play?” he asked her.

“Once in a while.” She didn’t have much time for it anymore.

“And your guitar?”

“Yeah, that, too.” Maybe, just for the heck of it, she might pull her guitar out of the back of her closet tonight and play something for him. Just for a throwback.

“And this is my room,” she said, pushing open the door to her bedroom. It was a big space, probably bigger than his mom’s living room. With pretty mauve walls and matching white furniture, it was very relaxing and mellow in there, pretty but a little less girly than her high school bedroom had been.

“Wow,” he said. “This is really great. Your bedroom TV’s bigger than my mom’s living room TV.”

Yeah, she was very fortunate to have all the material possessions that she did. She hadn’t even paid for the furnishings in this house. Sure, her clothes were her own, and when she’d moved in, she’d brought a few things with her, but most of the house’s décor was courtesy of her mom’s good taste.

Bellamy roamed around the room a bit, sitting down on the foot of the bed and testing out the comfort level. He nodded his head as if he approved, and she felt . . . a little turned on for some reason. Seeing him here in her bedroom, on her bed . . . it just made her think about _being_ with him in bed. Without clothes on. All night.

“You wanna go out on the balcony?” she asked him, feeling like her mind might venture too far into the gutter if they stayed in that room much longer.

“Sure,” he said, getting to his feet.

They left her room, and she unlocked and slid open the door that led outside. Her balcony stretched the entire length of the house, just like the back porch did. It was gorgeous out there. A sunset would have been really pretty, but the moon was already out now, its reflection shimmering on the water.

“Damn, now that’s a view,” Bellamy said in astonishment. “Mom and I just have a view of our neighbor’s trashy backyard.”

“I know, I’m pretty lucky,” she acknowledged. “I wanna put a table and chairs out here so I can just come out and relax sometimes.”

“Relax and de-stress,” he said.

“Yeah, I could definitely stand to do that.” She let out a heavy sigh, wishing . . . wishing her whole day had been like this. Bellamy just made her feel blissful sometimes. Even after all these years, that didn’t seem to have changed.

“It’s really pretty out here, Clarke,” he said.

“Yeah.” She sensed that, even though she was looking out on the water, he wasn’t, and when she glanced over at him, he was looking straight at her.

“Really pretty,” he said again, and this time, he took a step towards her and began to lean in. His hand came up to cup the side of her face, and before she even had time to really process what was happening, he kissed her. It was a lot different than their first kiss—softer, slower—but it felt amazing all the same. The only thing that felt different was his facial hair. An excited tingle raced up her spine, and when their mouths parted, she kept her eyes closed, hoping for another kiss. And that was exactly what she got. It was as if the first one had been his attempt to test the waters, and since she hadn’t objected, he went for it again, more insistently this time.

Reaching out, her hands found his sides as their mouths continued to mate. When she felt the tip of his tongue brush against hers, she thought about how good his tongue felt _everywhere_ , and she moved in closer to him, moaning softly into his mouth as she pressed her chest into his.

One of his arms wrapped around her back, and the other brazenly reached down to cup her ass. He pushed her hips forward, into his, and she felt a slight bulge against her lower stomach. He wanted her, and he wanted her to know he wanted her.

_You shouldn’t do this_ , she thought, but it passed quickly when he lifted her up and began to back towards the door. Her feet barely grazed the floor as he hauled her back in the house, and she barely had the chance to reach behind herself and shut the door before he carried her in the direction of the bedroom. Since he was walking backwards, too busy kissing her to check where he was going, he ended up running into the doorframe. Then he set her down on her own two feet again, and together they stumbled and tripped their way to the bed.

Clarke practically fell down atop it, then scrambled to get closer to the top as Bellamy climbed on top of her. He kissed his way down her cheek to her neck, and she rolled her head to the side to give him better access. His mouth on her skin was like a hot suction cup, and as juvenile as it was to hope he’d leave a hickey there . . . that was exactly what she was hoping for.

Through her shirt, he palmed her breasts, hands getting greedy as he tried to pull the material of her top and the cups of her bra down. He growled frustratedly, then stopped touching her as he sat up and peeled off his own shirt. She did the same, lifting her torso up just enough to yank it off and toss it on the floor. She unhooked her bra, too, and discarded that eagerly.

Like a man on a mission, he wasted no time latching his mouth onto her breasts. While sucking one fervently, he kneaded and squeezed the other with his large, rough hands. He alternated back and forth between the two of them, and if it hadn’t been five years since they’d hooked up, she would have encouraged him to stay and play with them a little longer. (Bellamy had actually once managed to give her an orgasm before _just_ by paying attention to her tits, and she’d never forgotten a second of it.) But the ache between her legs was so powerful and so real. She felt like her pussy was throbbing, begging for attention, so she tugged on his hair and got him to lift his head.

They were still so in sync that words weren’t necessary. He seemed to know that she wanted to cut straight to the chase, because he slid his arms underneath her and flipped them over so that now she was on top.

Sitting up, she took a few seconds to admire his toned chest, abs that looked better than they had even in high school, and the thin trail of dark hair leading down into his jeans. She massaged her hands all over his exposed skin while circling her denim-clad groin around his. He was definitely getting harder, and his cock was too big to be confined.

She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, loving how eagerly he squirmed out of them. He pushed them and his boxer briefs down over his hips at the same time, and his cock sprang free, almost right into her hand. She gave it a few good strokes while he kicked first his shoes and then his pants and underwear off. With Bellamy Blake completely naked underneath her, she smiled excitedly and used her thumb to smear his pre-cum around the head of his cock. God, he had a nice dick. And he was definitely still good about man-scaping.

“Your turn,” he growled lowly, slipping one hand down the back of her jeans. His middle finger slid ever so slightly down the crack of her ass, and she gasped. Why the hell did she still have clothes on? She needed to get naked, too.

Swinging one leg off of him, she sat beside him and was _so_ not graceful as she maneuvered out of her own jeans. Before she could take her panties off, he reached over and rubbed her pussy through them. She moaned, feeling like she’d soaked through them. He had to feel that. That was like her way of showing him that she wanted him, too.

Once she’d shed her underwear and was as naked as he was, they reversed positions again, and she happily settled beneath him again. He resumed kissing her, but now his hands were in on the action, his agile fingers continuing to slicken her up between her legs. If he kept doing that, she was going to cum before they even got to the main event, and she so badly wanted to cum when he was inside her.

“D—do you have a . . .” she asked, trailing off since the question was obvious.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said, looking all over the bed for his jeans. They weren’t there, so he leaned over, picked them up off the floor, and rummaged around in the pockets. If he didn’t have one, she did, but it was fun to watch him look for his. She wondered if he always walked around with a condom in his pocket, or if he’d slipped one in there just because he’d been hoping this would happen tonight.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, and his face lit up with excitement when he pulled out a small foil package. He tore open the wrapper with his teeth and sheathed himself swiftly. Momentarily, she flashed back to putting a condom on him for the first time, not knowing what she was doing, listening to him walk her through how to do it.

Moving forward on his knees, he pushed her legs back a bit, not to the point of being uncomfortable, but definitely to the point where she was very spread open to him. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her folds, teasing her entrance, driving her wild. “You sure?” he asked quietly.

She wasn’t sure of much of anything right now, but she was sure that she couldn’t stop doing this with him now that they’d started. “Mmm-hmm,” she said, nodding eagerly.

Gripping the base of his shaft in one hand, he steadily guided himself into her, eliciting a loud, breathy moan from her lungs. Good _god_ that was tight. It’d been a long time since she’d had to open up this much. Her ex’s dick had been average-sized at best, and dildos just didn’t feel the same.

He didn’t push as far into her as he may have at the height of their sex lives together, but he didn’t take it easy on her, either. She felt a slight pain, nothing like she had when she’d lost her virginity to him, but it was gone in almost seconds. They probably could have used some lube for this first time back together again, but she was so wet that, when he started moving, her juices must have just coated his whole cock, because the more he moved, the easier it became.

He lay down atop her, his bigger, heavier body fully encompassing hers, and she gripped his arms and shoulders, digging her fingernails into his flesh. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, and their stomachs slid together as he thrust in and out of her. He kept a steady pace, but they were long, _full_ thrusts, the kind that moved the whole mattress. They’d actually broken his headboard once in high school, but this bed was too big and too sturdy for that.

“Oh, fuck,” she swore, and that seemed to spur him on. He started to move faster, really screwing her now. Yeah, this wasn’t the slow and tender kind of sex. This was straight up fucking, the kind of sex that had kick-started their whole relationship in the first place.

She loved it. She loved it so much.

He pressed his face to her neck and let out a huge groan as he slammed his hips into her. Her whole body jolted with every one of those thrusts, and she wondered how deep inside he was. He probably wouldn’t try to bottom out, but if he did . . . it’d be like they were just two pieces of a puzzle again, like they still fit together so naturally. Even if he didn’t bottom out, this felt incredible. Bellamy made missionary more enjoyable than anyone else she’d ever been with.

“Put your legs around me,” he told her huskily, and he stopped moving for a moment.

She coiled her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass, and then he sat back, lifting her up along with him so that his cock didn’t slip out of her. She sat upright in his lap, excited for the change in position. As much as she loved having him on top of her, sitting like this gave her an opportunity to ride him a bit, to fuck him the way he’d been fucking her.

Bouncing up and down, tossing her head back, she closed her eyes and just surrendered to all the sensations. His hand on her ass, the other one coming up to squeeze her breasts. The graze of his lips against her cheek, and the warmth of his breath in her ear. But mostly, she got lost in the familiar, never-forgotten feeling of being joined with him, his thick, hard cock fucking into her so good, making her see stars.

“Come on, Princess,” he urged as their pelvises smashed together. “Come on.”

She laughed a little when he called her that, but it wasn’t just a cute nickname; it was sexy as hell, too. She knew he was trying to get her to cum because he was close. And honestly, so was she.

“Mmm,” she purred, squirming and circling her hips around, trying to create the perfect friction around her clit. Although Bellamy liked to give her hands-free orgasms whenever he could, he didn’t hesitate to reach down in between them, give her little bundle of nerves a few good rubs, and get her there. She fell apart right there in his lap, her pussy clamping down around him, almost as if it were trying to pull him in even farther. Her thighs quivered as she came, and she felt like she had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling backward. His hips stilled as her orgasm ripped through her, and he waited a moment as she came down from it to start fucking her again. She felt like a limp blob in his lap, just a mess of sexual satisfaction, but he didn’t seem to mind. All it took was a few more thrusts for him to cum, too.

Afterward, they sat together, both of them momentarily exhausted but not at all done for the night. He didn’t make any effort to slide out, and that was just fine with her. She liked feeling him in her.

He was the first to speak when, after finally managing to catch his breath, he rasped, “I missed you.”

She’d known that, of course, but it was still nice to hear him say it out loud. Years of travel and odd jobs and beautiful women from other countries, and yet he’d still missed her.

The feeling was mutual.

“I missed you, too,” she told him, happy to be back with him right now, even if it was only for a night.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

The morning felt . . . different. At first, Clarke wasn’t sure why, but as she gradually opened her eyes and last night came flooding back to her, she realized _why_ it felt different. For starters, she wasn’t in her bed alone.

Peeking over her shoulder, she saw Bellamy sprawled out on one half of the bed, the same side he’d slept on in high school. Nothing but the thin sheet covered his waist and legs, and his gorgeous, tan chest rose up and down steadily with every breath. He was snoring a little, nothing major, and had one arm up above his head.

_Oh my god_ , she thought, clutching the sheet to her chest. She’d really done all that last night, hadn’t she? Slept with Bellamy Blake again. First time in five years. And it had been _so_ good. But not exactly good timing.

As nice as it would have been to just continue lying there with him, maybe to fall back asleep or even to roll over and snuggle up next to him, she couldn’t do that. There was . . . something she needed to do.

Reluctantly, she got up out of bed, careful not to make too much noise or movement, because she didn’t want him waking up yet. She grabbed the Walgreens sack off her chair, feeling a bit foolish for just tossing it aside yesterday, dropping everything and taking off to go meet up with Bellamy. Bringing it into the bathroom, she sighed heavily and shut the door as quietly as she could. She set the sack down on the counter, grabbed her pink silky robe off the hook on the back of the door, and put it on, cinching it around her waist. Taking one long, hard look at herself in the mirror, she told herself, _No more waiting._

There were some things in that sack that weren’t important, like hand sanitizer and a new toothbrush. But there was one thing in there that was _very_ important, one thing that had been giving her stress and anxiety all week.

She took out the small box that said _Clearblue_ on the front and tried not to cry as the words _Rapid Detection Pregnancy Test_ stared back at her. It was such a lightweight box, hardly seemed appropriate for something that could be so life-changing. There were two tests in there, but for now she was only going to take one. This was the brand that claimed to be the most accurate home pregnancy test of all, so hopefully she’d get an accurate result.

She opened the box and took out one of the sticks out of its packaging, then removed the cap to expose the part she had to pee on. There was no need to read any directions. She knew how to do this. They made it so simple even a monkey could do it. Pee on the stick, wait a few minutes, then check the result window. Easy.

Clarke sat down on the toilet, held the test stick down in between her legs, and did what she needed to do. When the tip at the end of the strip turned pink, she kept it under her urine stream for just a few more seconds, then set it down on the counter and started to wait.

She counted to sixty in her head as she paced around her bathroom. One minute. Then she counted to sixty all over again. Two minutes. A few more sixties later, she figured she’d waited long enough. Five minutes was plenty of time for the test to make its determination.

Bracing herself, she walked back towards the sink, clamping her hand down over the results window without looking at it. She picked up the test, squeezing her eyes shut momentarily, and tried to tell herself that either result was okay. She’d be twenty-two soon. She was an adult now. She could do this.

But still . . . that didn’t mean she wanted to.

Forcing her eyes open, she then took a deep breath and uncovered the results window. And there it was: a plus sign.

The vertical line was dark, the horizontal line less so. But they were both there. Two lines. Even without the little key to the left of the window, she would have known what this meant. A plus sign was like a universal symbol of positive. The test was _positive_. She was pregnant.

Setting the test back down on the counter, she tried to keep herself calm. It wasn’t like this came as some huge shock. She was late by a week, and that wasn’t typical for her. Plus, five weeks ago . . . she’d done a stupid thing. A very stupid thing.

_It’s okay_ , she tried to tell herself. _Everything’s gonna be okay_. But it didn’t work, and the tears started to fall anyway. Her whole body shook as the reality set in, and she sank down to the floor. Sitting back against the counter, she just sat there and cried, as quietly as she could, of course. She wrapped one arm around her stomach and clasped the other over her mouth, trying not to have a full-on breakdown. But the tears kept coming.

She thought about how she would have to tell so many people, her parents among them. And of course the baby’s father. He had no idea. They hadn’t even spoken ever since the night they’d . . . They weren’t even friends.

It took her at least ten minutes to get all the crying out of her system. When she started to feel really and truly pathetic, she made herself stand and checked out her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, and tear-tracks stained her cheeks. God, she had to get it together. Sitting here feeling sorry for herself wasn’t gonna do any good.

She splashed some water on her face, took some deep breaths to calm herself down, and then forced herself to look at the test again. Positive. A little plus sign. A lot pregnant.

_You can do this_ , she told herself, once again looking at her own eyes in the mirror. She looked scared, definitely not strong, but she had to suck it up and _be_ strong right now. And that started with walking out of that bathroom.

When she opened the door and saw Bellamy lying on that bed, her heart sank. Despite having a beard now and being a bit more muscled than he even was in high school, he still looked like the same guy. The same guy who’d always been able to make her laugh. The same guy who’d loved to sit and listen to her sing. The same guy who could send a charge through her whole body with one simple touch.

It would have been nice if she’d been the same girl he used to know, but . . . she was different now. And as natural and blissful as last night had felt, it’d probably been a mistake. She’d let herself get lost in him, let herself forget for just a few hours that there had been a pregnancy test in that sack, ready to be used. For a few hours, she’d let herself pretend that she was back in high school, and that nothing else had mattered but being with Bellamy Blake.

Making her way towards the bed, she felt like she had no idea how she was going to do this. It would’ve been a lot easier had they not slept together last night, but . . . well, they had, and now she owed him an explanation as to why it couldn’t happen again. “Bellamy,” she said, reaching down to give his chest a nudge.

He made some sleepy sounds, mostly just grunts as he stirred, and squinted against the sunlight coming in through the window as he opened his eyes. “Hey,” he said, smiling as he looked up at her.

All she could manage was a small smile back. A sad one.

“Does this feel like old times or what?” he said, reaching out to grab her hand. “Come here,” he said, moving over a bit so she had room to sit down. He probably wanted her to lie down with him, but she didn’t feel like she should do that, so she just sat on the side of the bed instead.

“How long you been up?” he asked, rubbing his hand against her thigh.

“Not long,” she replied.

He yawned and then inquired, “You got anything goin’ today? ‘cause I don’t. Maybe we can just . . . stay in bed.”

Oh, she _so_ wished they could. But that just wasn’t a possibility now. “I’ve got some things I need to do,” she told him regretfully. Even if she hadn’t been pregnant, she still needed to go fix up that bio test, get her dress for tonight, all sorts of things.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, but he didn’t question it. “Okay. What about tonight then?”

Tonight . . . would have been nice. But that wasn’t possible, either. “Bellamy, there’s . . . there’s something I need to tell you,” she mumbled, lowering her head, ashamed that she hadn’t been upfront with him about this last night.

“You alright?” he asked, the concern evident in his tone.

She honestly wasn’t sure, so she just blurted out one thing she knew she was: “I’m pregnant.”

Bellamy’s whole expression morphed into a shocked one. His mouth dropped open a bit, and his eyes immediately flitted down to her stomach, where she wasn’t yet showing and wouldn’t be for a while still. He withdrew his hand from her leg and didn’t say anything, but he looked like he wanted to. He looked confused, and who could blame him? They’d just slept together last night, and now she was telling him this?

“I’ve _been_ pregnant for a couple weeks now,” she clarified. “I wasn’t sure, but I missed my period last week, so I took a test and . . . it’s positive.” She tried to smile, but it felt like more of a grimace.

“Oh,” he said, clearly dumbfounded. The poor guy. He’d just woken up, and now here she was dropping this bombshell news on him. He didn’t seem to know what to say for a moment—neither did she—but eventually he cleared his throat and asked, “Do you know . . . who the father is?”

“My ex-boyfriend,” she answered. “Finn.” If there was a silver lining to this situation, it was that she at least knew who the father was without a doubt. She hadn’t gone out and slept with other guys since then, thankfully. “We broke up this summer, but last month, we were both at the bar,” she explained. “Had a couple drinks, one thing led to another . . .” She trailed off, figuring it was pretty much self-explanatory from there. Her memories of that night were a little fuzzy, but she did remember that Finn hadn’t worn a condom, and she’d been too drunk and stupid to remind him to put one on. That plus the fact that she’d been a couple weeks late getting her birth control shot had all contributed to them . . . making a baby.

_God._

“Wow,” Bellamy said as his eyes fixated on her stomach again.

“Yeah.” _Wow_ was definitely a good word for it. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you I might be . . .” She felt horrible, felt like she’d lied to him even though she hadn’t intended to. “I mean, I didn’t know for sure until just now, but . . . I still should’ve told you I had suspicions. I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. It was just . . .” She blinked back tears, not able to look him in the eye as she spoke. “I got caught up last night, and . . . I didn’t wanna think about it.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but when he did, it was a super understanding “That’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she argued. “I should’ve told you.”

“Clarke, don’t worry about it,” he said.

Oh, but she _was_ worrying. She was worrying about a lot of stuff right now.

“I’ll just . . . I’ll just get dressed and leave then,” he decided. “You got a lot goin’ on.”

She nodded, hating that such an amazing night had to end like with a morning like this. “I’ll be downstairs,” she said, standing up. She pulled her robe shut a little tighter and started for the door.

“Hey,” he said, causing her to turn back around. He smiled at her slowly, then said, “Congratulations.”

With tears stinging her eyes, she managed a “Thanks,” wishing she felt like it was a congratulatory thing.

When she went downstairs and began to whip up some breakfast, she was hyper-aware of her sense of smell. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary yet, but it wouldn’t surprise her if soon she started hating the smell of scrambled eggs, if she got to the point where she couldn’t even eat them. And maybe pancakes, which she wasn’t a big fan of, would start to taste good. Everything was gonna get out of whack.

Bellamy strode down the stairs a few minutes later. He must not have taken a shower, but he had gotten dressed. “Nice bathroom,” he remarked. “Nice house. Thanks for, uh . . . having me over.”

She wondered if he regretted it now, but . . . ultimately, she just couldn’t. “Thanks for texting me,” she said, knowing that she wouldn’t take back last night for anything. Maybe she’d been meant to have that one last perfect memory with Bellamy now that everything in her life was going to change.

Standing by the front door, he looked so uncharacteristically awkward as he said, “So I guess I should go.”

“Yeah.” She supposed he could have some eggs, if he wanted to, but . . . who was she kidding? Bellamy probably just wanted to get out of there, and she couldn’t say she blamed him for that.

As he reached for the doorknob, she said, “Oh, Bellamy, will you not tell anyone about . . .” She couldn’t even really say it all that well yet. “I just don’t want it to get around and then get to Finn or my parents before I get a chance to tell them.”

“I won’t say anything,” he promised.

“Thank you.” She knew she could trust him. She’d always been able to trust Bellamy.

“See you around, Princess,” he said, giving her one more small smile before he ducked out the front door.

“Bye,” she whispered sadly well after he was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy felt like he’d been hit by a two-ton truck as he drove home that morning. When he’d woken up, he’d felt great, on cloud nine even. Naturally, he’d assumed that last night was just the tip of the iceberg, that he and Clarke would get to spend a lot more time together now that he was back. Hell, he’d fallen asleep planning to wake her up with his head between her legs. But none of that had happened, and now none of it was _going_ to happen, because . . . Clarke was pregnant. With some other guy’s kid.

Damn, that bummed him out.

He lumbered in the side door of his house, feeling let down. There was no other way to put. The whole reason why he’d texted Clarke and wanted to meet up with her last night was because he’d missed her these past five years, because he’d never forgotten about her or forgotten how much fun they’d had. When he’d found out she didn’t have a boyfriend, he’d assumed that was good news for him, cleared the way for the two of them to maybe start something up again. But apparently fate had other plans.

“Well, well, well,” his mother’s voice rang out as she poked her head out of the kitchen. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Sorry I didn’t make it home last night,” he apologized, stepping out of his shoes. “I should’ve called.”

“You’re a grown man, Bellamy. If you wanna stay out all night, stay out all night,” she said. “Who’d you meet up with?”

“A friend,” he replied, following her back into the kitchen.

“Miller?” she asked.

“No, not yet.”

Even though she was in the process of doing dishes, she stopped with a spoon in her hand and gave him a curious look. “Clarke?”

He didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t fully suppress his smirk.

“Oh.” His mom nodded. “Well, at least that explains why you were out all night.”

“No, it’s not . . .” He scratched his eyebrow, trying not to go too much into detail with what had happened. His mom was cool and everything, but she was still his _mom_. “We’re not starting back up again,” he informed her.

“Oh, really?” She sounded skeptical.

“Really.” Unfortunately.

His mom turned back around to the sink and resumed the dishes. “That’s too bad,” she remarked. “You know, I always liked her. She was spunky, sweet. Parents were a bit high and mighty, but you always seemed really happy with her.”

“I was,” he recalled. He hadn’t been exaggerating last night when he’d told Clarke that his senior year had been the best year of his life. She’d made that year for him, and he hoped she knew that. “But it’s been five years,” he added, more so as a reminder to himself than his mom that they couldn’t just pick up where they’d left off. “Things change.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, we’ll see.”

As much as he would have liked to share his mother’s skepticism . . . he couldn’t just barge in on Clarke’s life now that she was having a baby. She and that guy, Finn or whatever . . . they were gonna have some stuff to figure out, and he had to give them space to do that.

Feeling like he needed to shower and get a little more sleep, Bellamy trudged back to his bedroom, cringing when he got in there and took a good look at it. It’d been nice at first, coming back to the house he’d grown up in and seeing that nothing had really changed. But now that he’d seen Clarke’s place, he sort of felt like an idiot. The same posters of the same celebrity women he’d had a crush on back in high school still decorated his walls. The same football figurines he’d had on his desk were still there. Hell, his jersey was probably still hanging in the back of his closet, unworn and untouched for years.

_I gotta get my own place someday_ , he thought as he flopped down on his bed. He loved his mom dearly, but he was turning twenty-four in a couple of months, and it was sort embarrassing to be living with her again.

He lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he should give Miller a call today. A lot of the friends he’d gone to high school with either hadn’t ever left Arkadia or had moved back. It’d be good to see some of them. Maybe not as good as it had been to see _Clarke_ , but . . .

_Dammit_ , he swore internally. He was gonna have to try to stop thinking about her.

****

_The knock on his bedroom door wasn’t enough to distract Bellamy from the film of last Friday’s football game. “I’m watching porn, Mom,” he lied._

_The door slowly creaked as it opened, and when Bellamy cast a quick glance over his shoulder . . . “Clarke.” Definitely not his mom. “Hey.”_

_“Hi.”_

_Fuck, she looked cute. She was wearing jean shorts and a long-sleeved red top. Screw cute; she looked hot as hell._

_“That doesn’t look like porn,” she said, motioning to his computer screen._

_He paused the film of the game, right as he was about to throw for a few yards, and said, “Sometimes I just say that so she’ll leave me alone.”_

_She laughed a little._

_Spinning his computer chair all the way around, he asked, “What’re you doing here?”_

_“Nothing much,” she said with a shrug. “Just thought I’d stop by. Your sister let me in. She was on the phone with someone. She sounded angry.”_

_“Yeah, she has rage problems. We’re workin’ on that.” He looked her up and down, not even bothering to disguise his desire, then asked, “So did you have fun at homecoming?”_

_“It was alright,” she answered. “Kinda boring.”_

_“Yeah.” He’d been bored, too, what with having to take pictures for the paper and the school website and the school’s Twitter account with that dumb crown on his head. He’d ended up finding the time to make out with Bree and another girl—both at the same time, actually—but he’d been so exhausted because of the game the night before that he hadn’t even bothered taking either of them home._

_“I wish you hadn’t had a date,” he told her. “We could’ve fooled around a little bit.”_

_“Well, that’s why I’m here,” she said._

_“To fool around?” His interest was piqued then._

_“Yes, I wanna . . . I wanna return the favor that you did for me the other night.”_

_“You mean when I went down on you?” That was hardly a favor. More like a privilege._

_“Mmm-hmm.”_

_Slowly standing, he grinned at her and teasingly asked, “Are you saying you wanna go down on me?”_

_A tint of red crept to her cheeks. “Maybe.”_

_“Maybe?” He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. Clarke’s pretty mouth wrapped around his cock . . . god, he’d jacked off imagining it last night. “Have you ever given a blow-job before?” he asked her, feeling like he already knew the answer._

_“No,” she admitted. “But I thought you could teach me.”_

_He suspected he’d taught a few girls over the years, but none of them had liked to publicize the fact that it was new for them. “Yeah, I can do that,” he said, enjoying how Clarke was so open about never having done this before. “Right now?”_

_“Yeah,” she said. “If you want to.”_

_“Sure.” He tried to play it cool, but inside, his libido was doing backflips. “Lock the door, will you?” he said as he began to undo his pants. Didn’t need his seventh grade sister walking in on them. Clarke turned the lock on the doorknob while he pushed his jeans down to the floor and stepped out of them. His boxers went next, and then he sat down on the side of his bed and spread his legs. “Come on,” he said, motioning her over. “Come right here.”_

_If she was nervous, she didn’t really show it as she came in front of him and got down on her knees. Hmm, maybe that meant she’d been fantasizing about this, too. Here she was with his cock in front of her face, and she didn’t look unsure at all._

_“Maybe start off with your hand,” he suggested, leaning back on his forearms, “get it hard.”_

_She nodded once before gripping the base of his shaft with one hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze, and he groaned. Then she began to slide her hand up and down his full length, pumping him. “Like this?” she asked._

_“Yeah, that’s good.” He watched intently as her small hand stroked his length, and he felt himself getting hard because of her touch. Her hand, her fingers were so light compared to his skin. He was darker than her everywhere, but with the blood pooling in his cock right now, the contrast was even more noticeable. Her hand was a lot softer than his, too. It felt nice._

_After she’d been at that for a couple minutes, she asked, “Now should I . . .?” and trailed off. But the question was obvious._

_“Yeah, go ahead,” he invited. “Just take a little at a time.”_

_She scooted forward on her knees, keeping her hand around the base of his dick while she brought her face closer to his crotch. She hesitated for a second, closed her eyes, and then then opened her mouth to wrap around the head of his cock. As she released it, she almost kissed the tip of it and . . . damn, that was good stuff._

_He began to suspect Clarke may have done a little porn-watching herself when she licked the tip of it, gathering up all the pre-cum with her soft, wet tongue. Then she opened her mouth wide again, wide enough to take a little more than just the head of him this time. It felt so good, and it was so hard not to just hold her head still and fuck right into her mouth, but this was her first time doing this. He didn’t wanna hurt her._

_When she released him again, she asked, “Is that alright?”_

_“It’s good,” he said, feeling kind of glad now that he hadn’t taken Bree home after homecoming. Lately, this kind of thing was a lot more fun with Clarke. “Keep goin’,” he urged, loving that he could just lie there and watch her. She looked so pretty with his cock in her mouth, and he really admired that she seemed to be trying to fit as much of it as she could in there. “Yeah . . .” he groaned low in his throat, reaching down to tangle his hands in her hair. He pressed down on her head, guiding her movements a bit, helping her understand exactly what he liked, and when he let go, her head was full-on bobbing._

_At one point, he felt himself hit the back of her throat, and even though it felt fucking amazing for him, it triggered her gag reflex. She coughed and had to pull away for a moment._

_“Careful,” he cautioned. “Don’t try to take too much.”_

_With almost a look of determination on her face, she opened her mouth and began sucking on him again. She picked up the same exact pace and rhythm, and Bellamy felt himself getting closer._

_“Move your hand at the same time,” he instructed her. When she began sliding her hand up and down the lower half of his cock, he groaned, “Yeah, like that.” He shut his eyes for a few seconds and just reveled in the sensations. Her mouth was like this small, hot cave, and it kept pulling him deeper just like her pussy had a few nights ago._

_“I’m gonna cum,” he warned her._

_Again, she pulled back, this time to ask, “Should I . . . keep going?”_

_He shook his head. “Just use your hand. You don’t have to swallow.”_

_“I can,” she offered._

_“You don’t have to.” As nice as it would have been to cum in her mouth, he’d seen plenty of girls, some with a lot more experience than her, try to swallow and end up hating it._

_“I’ll try,” she decided, lowering her mouth down onto him again._

_“Oh, shit, Clarke.” Part of him wanted just pull her head away, because he didn’t want her to feel pressured, like she_ had _to swallow. But the other part of him just couldn’t help but let it happen. He’d told her she didn’t have to, after all, so he hadn’t pressured. If she wanted to try, then who was he to stop her?_

_It only took a little longer, and suddenly, he felt like his brains were shooting out through his cock. She tried her best, but while he was cumming, she had to tear her mouth away, and the rest ended up squirting all over her hand and a little bit on her cheek and chin. He wasn’t offended or anything. Semen wasn’t exactly known to be fine dining._

_“Sorry,” she apologized when it was over._

_“That’s okay.” Hell, she didn’t have anything to be sorry for. She’d gotten him off, and she’d probably still swallowed a little bit in the process. He was proud of his eager little sex student for that._

_“I wasn’t expecting . . . so much,” she said as she wiped off her face._

_“It’s okay. You did good,” he assured her. A little more practice and maybe she’d even get to the point where she could deep-throat him. He wasn’t gonna push her too far too fast, though._

_“I’m gonna go clean up,” she announced, getting to her feet._

_“Alright.” He was gonna just lie there and come down from his orgasm for a moment. Fuck, that’d felt good._

_An idea occurred to him as he was recuperating, an idea about something they could try next if she was up for it, and since he just had to tell her about it, he tugged on his boxers and left the room._

_“Hey, Clarke? Maybe sometime we can try a sixty-nine,” he suggested on his way to the bathroom. Unfortunately, there stood his mother in the kitchen doorframe, a brown paper sack full of groceries in her arms. “Hey, Mom,” he said, wishing she hadn’t overheard that. She must’ve just gotten home._

_“Son,” she said tersely._

_From inside the bathroom, he could hear Clarke washing her hands, but when she turned the water off, she asked, “You really think I’m ready for a sixty-nine?” A few seconds later, she came out into the hall and came face to face with his mother. She looked mortified as she said, “Oh. Hi, Mrs. Blake.”_

_“Hello,” his mother responded._

_“Mom, this is Clarke. Clarke, my mom,” he quickly introduced the two of them._

_“Nice to meet you,” Clarke said, extending her hand in greeting, but then she pulled it back just as quickly. Even though she’d washed her hands . . . yeah, she’d still just jacked him off with it._

_“You, too,” his mother returned. As always when she caught a girl in the house, she wasn’t saying much._

_“Well, I was just leaving,” Clarke said, side-stepping down the hallway. “But Bellamy, we can meet up later and study. On page sixty-nine in our textbooks.”_

_Oh god, she couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d tried, but it was adorable that she was trying to cover it up. “Bye, Clarke,” he said, smiling at her._

_She waved hurriedly, then dashed towards the door. Like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough._

_“I don’t even wanna know,” his mother grumbled, shaking her head as she went into the kitchen._

_He retreated back to his bedroom, happy to not have to tell her._

****

Bellamy slithered out of his pants, then took his shirt off, too. He kept his underwear on, rolled over onto his side, and got under the blankets, closing his eyes so he could try to fall back asleep. He’d probably dream about Clarke again, but oh, well. At least he could dream about last night now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The charity event at the hospital was . . . like any other charity event at the hospital, really. Clarke had been to too many of them to keep track of. But she knew her mom was the driving force behind this one, knew it meant a lot to her, so she put on her happy face, picked up her dress from the dry cleaner, and went to the charity event that was so near and dear to Dr. Abigail Griffin’s heart.

“This is a really good turnout,” her mother remarked.

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed, swiping yet another cheese cube off of the food table. “Better than the last one.” In mid-chew, she realized that she’d probably eaten about ten cheese cubes at this point, so she decided to slow down, even though she was really hungry. No need to give her mom any reason to suspect anything.

“I like your dress,” her mother remarked.

“Thanks.” It was a floor-length, form-fitting maroon thing, strapless, and because she’d had it tailored to her measurements, it fit her like a glove. She doubted she’d be able to fit into it much longer, though. After Bellamy had left, she’d gotten online and found out that first-time mothers often began developing a baby bump between twelve to sixteen weeks. And if she kept knocking back these cheese cubes, she’d probably start showing even sooner.

As attendees verbalized and vocalized all around them, in came Marcus Kane, Clarke’s mom’s boyfriend. He was wearing a nice suit, of course, but his Jesus hair was extra Jesus-y tonight, and he hadn’t trimmed his beard like his girlfriend had asked him, too. “Hi, sweetheart, sorry I’m late,” he said, giving Abby a kiss on the cheek. “One of the kids at the center was having a hard time. I had to stay.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “You’re here now.”

As far as excuses for running late went, a kid in crisis was a pretty good one. Back when they’d first met Kane, he’d been a big businessman and their next-door neighbor. But nowadays, he ran a mentoring program for troubled youth _and_ had moved in with her mom. Clarke liked the guy and everything, but walking in on him and her mom doing it on the kitchen table had pretty much made her want to gouge her own eyes out. All the more reason to live in the beach house.

“How’d your exam go yesterday, Clarke?” Kane inquired. “I know you were worried about it.”

“Well, I forgot to answer an essay question, but luckily my professor let me do it today,” she said.

“See, I told you there was nothing wrong with being the favorite student.”

Definitely nothing wrong with it, except for the fact that people had _always_ called her the teacher’s pet and assumed she just got good grades without even having to work for them.

Clarke spotted a familiar main of black hair weaving through the crowd, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes when Callie Cartwig, her mom’s supposed ‘best friend’ approached. “Abby,” she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Beautiful event. And I see you’ve got a lot of donations already.”

_Probably none from you_ , Clarke thought. Callie was a social climber, had a penchant for gossip, and always made bedroom eyes at Kane when Clarke’s mom wasn’t watching.

“What’s this raising money for again?” Kane asked.

“A pregnancy counseling program we’ll be starting up at the hospital,” Abby explained. “It’s meant to assist expectant mothers who perhaps don’t have the financial or emotional support they need.”

_Dear God_ , Clarke thought, trying not to tense up. _That_ was what this event was for? What a great fucking coincidence that, on the day that she took a pregnancy test, she just _happened_ to find herself here tonight. Not that she needed financial support or anything—her parents were loaded. But emotional support . . . yeah, she’d probably be in need of that.

“That sounds like something worth toasting to,” Kane declared, plucking a glass of champagne off of a tray as a waiter walked by. “To the new program. Let’s hope it helps lots of women out there.”

“Cheers,” both Abby and Callie said, raising their glasses up and tapping them against Kane’s. Clarke did the same with the drink in her hand, except she couldn’t drink it. So she just stood there, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. Her mom was a doctor, though. If anyone could connect the dots between the cheese cube binging and the lack of alcohol-drinking, it was her.

“Excuse me,” Clarke said, feeling like she needed a momentary escape. She brought her very full glass up to the bar, needing something non-alcoholic in it.

“What can I get for you, miss?” the bartender asked.

“Club soda,” she replied. She just wanted to blend in tonight and not draw any unnecessary attention to herself. And everyone there was drinking, so she had to drink something, too. Maybe after she went and had her first ultrasound and confirmed that the baby was still . . . there . . . then maybe she’d tell her mom what was going on. But for now, she didn’t want her to suspect anything.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the event was winding down that night, Clarke made an excuse to leave—a big exam to study for all weekend. Yeah, right. It was early in the semester. They weren’t having that many exams yet. But her mom didn’t question it, so she said goodbye to her and Kane, then left. Instead of going home, she drove over to Raven’s apartment. She was pretty sure she heard her best friend run to the door after she knocked on it.

“I’ll get it!” she heard Raven say. When she pulled open the door, she exclaimed, “Hey, you! What’s the occasion for this dress? You look so pretty.”

“My mom’s charity event,” Clarke explained succinctly, stepping inside.

“Oh, I see. I thought you were meeting up with Bellamy again or something.”

“No, not tonight.” _Not for a long time_ , she thought glumly, _if ever_.

“Well, give me all the juicy details,” Raven said, muting the volume on the TV. “I wanna hear everything.”

Clarke cast a quick glance over at Raven’s boyfriend, Murphy, who was sitting at his desk, talking to his computer screen. He had a very expensive camera attached to the top of it, and a light was on to show it was recording.

“Is he filming?” she said.

“Yes, I’m filming,” Murphy answered for Raven, “and now I have to start all over because you ruined my introduction.”

“Sorry,” she apologized. She knew Murphy took his YouTube videos very seriously.

He pressed a button on his camera, then pressed another one and started in all over again. “Hey, what’s up, you guys? It’s your man, Murphy, and I’m back with another rant,” he said. “Now when I woke up this morning, I thought to myself, _Murphy, what’re you gonna rant about today? Politics? Music? Society in general?_ And then, two words came to mind: _bleu cheese_.”

Clarke made a face. What the fuck?

“Just ignore him,” Raven said. “That’s what I do.” She sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. “Sit.”

As Murphy continued his video, Clarke took a seat next to her friend, not sure she could say everything she needed to while a camera was rolling.

“Okay, tell me all about it,” Raven said eagerly. “Is he still a hottie? Does he still make your knees go weak? Does he still have a really deep voice?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Clarke answered.

“Oh my god, this is so exciting!” Raven exclaimed. “So is he, like, _back_ back, or just visiting?”

“No, he’s back. For good.”

“You’re kidding. Clarke!” Raven slapped one hand down over her heart. “This is perfect.”

Was it, though? It would’ve been perfect five weeks ago.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Murphy growled, throwing his hands in the air as he spun his chair around. “How am I supposed to make this video with you two yakking in the background?”

“Just go in the bathroom,” Raven suggested. “It’s gonna be a babble-fest out here.”

He sighed and shook his head, then unplugged and picked up his whole laptop. “One hundred and ninety-eight thousand subscribers, and I’m still exiled to the bathroom,” he grumbled, dragging his feet on the way in there. He slammed the door shut, pretending to be all pissed, but Clarke was sure one little kiss from Raven would make him into nice Murphy again.

“Is he really gonna rant about bleu cheese?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, Murphy can rant about anything,” Raven said. “But enough about him; he’s boring. Tell me about Bellamy. What all happened?”

“Well . . .” She was still trying to wrap her mind around everything herself, to be honest. “We met up at the bar, talked for a little bit. He told me all about what he’s been up to these past five years. Traveling the world, basically. And then we went on a walk around town and talked some more and laughed about a bunch of stuff. And then he came over to my place, and I showed him the house, and . . . that was it.” _Except for the fucking_ , she thought. And Bellamy had made her cum three times, so it’d been some _really_ good fucking.

“Oh, no, that was _not_ it,” Raven said, able to see right through her immediately. “Fess up, Clarke Griffin. You slept with him, didn’t you?”

She looked down at her lap, then met Raven’s eyes again. “Maybe a little bit.”

“I knew it! You two never could resist.”

_Nope_ , Clarke thought, _never could._

“So does that mean he doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

Clarke shrugged. “He didn’t say anything about one.” Bellamy wouldn’t do the long-distance thing with any Italian girls, so she felt safe in assuming that he was totally on the market.

“And you don’t have anyone, either, so . . . perfect timing,” Raven declared again.

Oh, if only it had been. “I don’t know about that,” she said, not sure how she was going to explain to her friend that, no, this was not the reunion of Bellamy and Clarke.

“What do you mean?” Raven spat. “You’re single, he’s single. I take it the physical attraction’s still there.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” Bearded Bellamy was definitely the hottest Bellamy she’d ever seen.

“So what’s stopping you?”

She sighed, wondering if she should tell Raven everything that was going on. Five weeks was hardly anything, and most couples didn’t even share the news until that first ultrasound confirmed everything. But she and Finn weren’t a couple anymore, so she had no one else to talk to about it.

Even though she knew that Raven would be encouraging and supportive and everything that a best friend was supposed to be, Clarke just didn’t feel like delving into that conversation right now. She’d done pretty good today, kept herself busy with errands and stuff. But if she let herself stop and think about this for too long, if she let herself talk about it, then the waterworks would spring up again. And she really didn’t want to both start and end her day crying.

“It’s just that five years is a long time,” she said. “A lot’s happened. I don’t know if he and I should just jump right back into things.”

“But you’ve already jumped, both of you,” Raven pointed out. “You did the bone dance.”

“We did,” Clarke said cringing a bit. “We really did. But that doesn’t mean we’re getting back together.”

Raven’s voice rose in volume when she demanded, “Why the hell not? You guys were so great together.”

“That was high school,” Clarke rationalized. “This is now.”

“Clarke . . .”

“Look, I can’t really stay,” she said, getting to her feet, “but I just thought I’d swing by and tell you how it went. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

Raven sighed exaggeratedly, obviously annoyed that there wasn’t more good news to chatter about. “Okay.”

“Bye.” Clarke waved as she saw herself out. Well, that hadn’t accomplished anything, had it? She hadn’t told her mom, hadn’t told Raven . . . hell, so far Bellamy was the _only_ person she’d told. And that had been hard enough. She didn’t even want to think about what it was going to be like telling Finn.

When she got home that night, she left the lights off downstairs and headed up to her room. At the top of the staircase, though, she stopped, looked at the closed door to the one empty room in her house and let out a heavy exhale. What was perhaps meant to have been a guest room was now going to have to become a nursery.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

One second, it was quiet. Just Bellamy and his mom, sitting on the couch, looking through old photo albums. Then, the door flew open, and in walked Octavia.

“Ugh, I hate college! I hate it!” she screamed, throwing her backpack down on the floor and slamming the door shut. “My British lit professor assigned a hundred more pages of reading. Not ten, not twenty, but a hundred. That we have to finish by Monday. Can you believe it?”

“One page at a time, O,” Bellamy said without so much as a glance at her. “Just like I used to do.”

“Or I could just skim it,” she went on, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “Or, I don’t even have to do that. I can just _pretend_ that I read it. And if he calls on me in class, I’ll just lie my way through an answer. I’m really good at lying.”

“That’s what every mother loves to hear,” their mom mumbled sarcastically.

“I’m just not cut out for college,” Octavia bemoaned. “You get that, right, Bellamy? Can’t I just drop out like you did?”

“No,” he and his mom answered in unison.

“You guys are so unfair.” She pouted, then got up and headed into the kitchen. When she re-emerged, she had a Diet Coke in her hand. “So who have you hung out with since you’ve been back, Bell?” she asked, perching herself on the edge of the couch again. “Miller?”

“Yeah, I went out with him last night.” He chuckled as he flipped past an old photo of him and some of the football guys drenching their coach with Gatorade for his one-hundredth win.

“God, Miller’s so hot,” Octavia said.

“Miller’s so gay,” he reminded her.

“I know. But I used to have a huge crush on him.”

“Maybe this will be the year you have a crush on someone your own age,” their mother suggested, sounding hopeful.

But Octavia just scoffed at that. “No way. Freshman guys are so immature. It’s like they’re still in high school. The older boys are better.”

Bellamy gave his mom a look. Fan-fucking-tastic, they had to worry about Octavia going after guys who were about to graduate then. It was a good thing he was back. He could play the whole protective dad part pretty well if he needed to.

“What’re you guys doing anyway?” she finally asked them.

“Mom broke out the photo albums. We’re trying to find that one picture of Grandma,” he explained.

“Oh, the one where she had the toilet seat over her head?” Octavia laughed. “Oh, Grandma. So confused.”

Bellamy’s mom nudged him suddenly and said, “Look at this.” She pointed out a picture of him and Clarke all dressed up in their formalwear at his senior year prom. Her hair had been a lot longer then, and he’d been a lot more clean-shaven.

“Oh, that’s right!” Octavia exclaimed as she leaned over to get a good look, too. “You get to see Clarke again. When are you gonna do that?”

“I already did,” he told her, “a couple nights ago.”

“And how much of her did you get to see?” she teased.

“Really, O?”

“What? I’m just asking because you guys were sex freaks back in the day.”

Well . . . that was kind of true, but he still didn’t have to tell her anything. “That’s none of your business,” he said.

“ _Oh_.” She leaned across the back of the couch and whispered loudly, “That means they did it, Mom.”

“Thanks, honey,” she said, “I got that.”

“You know what?” he passed off the photo album to his sister and suggested, “Why don’t you look for Grandma’s picture? I’m gonna go for a drive.” He got up, grabbed his keys off the end table, and headed out. He loved his sister dearly, he did, but when she was in either rant mode or taunt mode, he sometimes needed a break from her.

Although he could have stopped and put in some applications at a few places around town, he ended up just rolling the window down and driving with one hand on the wheel. He thought about swinging by Miller’s place to see if he wanted to hang out for a while, but he was pretty sure his friend (in between drinks) had mentioned that he spent most of his days working at a physical therapy clinic now. So he ended up just driving around kind of aimlessly, no real destination in mind.

At one red light, he made the mistake of looking over at the car next to him, and dammit all to hell, there was Bree. Of all the people he could have run into from high school, he had to run into her? Her whole face lit up when she saw him, and she started trying to pantomime something he couldn’t quite understand. He just smiled and nodded, praying for that light to turn green any second now, but it never fucking did.

Bree was the same girl, apparently, hadn’t changed a bit, because at one point, she lifted up her shirt and showed off . . . new boobs? He could only assume they were new, because they looked a hell of a lot bigger than used to be. He really wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just gave her a thumbs up, and then finally, at long last, the light changed to green, and he was able to floor it.

Perhaps out of habit, he found himself up at the high school. He pulled up in the bus-loading zone and put his car in park. Damn, that school looked no different. Behind it, the football field probably looked the same, too. Although he’d heard these days that the numbers on the scoreboard were pretty different.

High school was supposedly a time a lot of people wanted to forget, but not him. In fact, there were a lot of things he hoped he’d always remember.

****

_“Fourth down. Six seconds left. Rockets need a touchdown to stay undefeated.”_

_Bellamy blocked out the announcer and blasted his own voice through the huddle, wanting his team to hear him and only him. “Listen to me, we are not losing this game!” he thundered. “One last play. You give it all you’ve got. We’re winning this. You hear me?”_

_The guys, completely gassed and ready to pass out, all nodded._

_“We’re not losing!” Bellamy yelled again, and they broke the huddle and trotted back up to the line. The field lights shone down on them, and the crowd roared. He could pick out his mom’s voice above all the others, cheering him on._ Everyone _was cheering for him. Everyone hoped he’d find a way to win._

_It was a lot of pressure, but he was used to it. This wasn’t his first game that had gone down to the wire. He’d faced tougher defenses than this. All he had to do was launch that ball down the field and hope Zeke caught it. Zeke was his best receiver. They’d already connected for two touchdowns that night. Now they just needed one more._

_He crouched down behind his center, surveying the defensive scheme._ Fuck, _he thought, recognizing that Zeke was gonna get double coverage. There was no way he’d be able to get open, and even if he did, Bellamy wasn’t sure he could dance around in the pocket long enough to extend the play. He knew the coaches were gonna shit their pants, but he had to do what he had to do. Time to call an audible._

_“Black 41!” he yelled, watching the play clock tick down. “Black 41!”_

_Everyone shifted around on his command, and the defense tried to match up._

Here goes nothing, _he thought, making sure everyone was in place before he called, “Hut!”_

_His center snapped him the ball, and he wasted no time handing it off to Miller. He couldn’t see the play after that, couldn’t bother to look back and make sure Miller was able to pitch it back to Zeke. Because his job was to find his crease in the defense and just run. The defense didn’t know what was going on. They stumbled around, confused as to who had the ball and where it was going, and Bellamy used that to his advantage as he rushed past a safety. Close to the forty yard-line, he looked back and kept his eye on the ball as Zeke launched it through the air. The crowd erupted as Bellamy hauled in the catch, and from there, he just put on the jets. He felt the defenders fall back, and that end zone got closer and closer with each step._

_Once he was in, he spiked the ball, fell to his knees, and watched as his teammates ran towards him. With the play clock now at zero, the guys on the sidelines were jumping up and down, and all the cheerleaders were doing the same. People in the stands, parents and students and even young kids, were up out of their seats, screaming and hugging each other._

Holy shit, _he thought as his teammates swarmed him. He’d had some pretty miraculous endings to games before, but this was something else. Winning a close game on a trick play, one that he’d called himself at the line of scrimmage? Catching his first touchdown pass? Yeah, this was one for the ages._

_He wasn’t sure how it happened or who lifted him up first, but somehow he ended up on the shoulders of his teammates. His helmet came off, and everyone continued to celebrate and cheer. It was a great feeling coming through for everyone like that. He hadn’t let the fans down once so far this season, and he didn’t intend to._

_After the game, he’d barely had time to catch his breath before a reporter from the local news station pulled him onto the track and interviewed him. He was sweaty and dirty and grimy, but happy, so he answered every question with a smile on his face._

_The last question, of course, was, “So what do you think about the people saying this team’s bound to make it to the state finals this year?”_

_Coach had told him this question would come up if they won this game tonight, so he was ready for it. “I hope they’re right,” he said. “We’re just gonna keep working hard, take it game by game. That’s about all we can do.”_

_After that interview came a quick interview for the local paper. He and Zeke were the only players they got quotes from. All Bellamy really wanted to do was get to the locker room and get in the shower, but as the quarterback, he knew he had some responsibilities the other guys didn’t._

_As it turned out, there was a recruiter in the crowd that night. His mom intercepted him on his way to the locker room and introduced him to some guy from Pittsburgh who couldn’t stop raving about how impressed he’d been with how he’d played that night. Two touchdown passes, a run into the end zone, and then even a catch. Yeah, it hadn’t been a bad night to be him._

_“Let me know when you wanna schedule a visit,” the recruiter said, handing him his business card. “I look forward to seeing you.”_

_“Thanks,” he said._

_“Thank you,” his mom echoed. She took the card from him and took a look at it, her whole face lighting up. “Well, this is exciting,” she said. “Lots of prospects.”_

_“Yeah, hopefully that translates into lots of scholarships.” If he kept playing at this level, he felt like his chances of getting a football scholarship were actually pretty decent. Nobody thought of Maryland when they thought of high school football players, but he was trying to put himself on the map._

_“It will,” his mom said confidently. “I’m so proud of you.”_

_He had to admit, as great as it had been to win the game, hearing that from her was even better. Cheesy but true. He loved his mom so much._

_“Aurora!” Miller’s dad shouted from the far side of the bleachers. “You comin’?”_

_“Just a minute!” she yelled back. “You good here?” she asked Bellamy._

_“Yeah. I’ll see you at home.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, happy to let her go do her thing with the football dads. His mom actually lived a pretty tame lifestyle, except on game nights when she filled in for his absentee dad. She could knock some drinks back with the football fathers, especially on a night like tonight when there was a lot to celebrate._

_Although it seemed that it was_ finally _time for that much-needed shower now that the field and the bleachers were clearing out, Bellamy got distracted from that pursuit when he saw Clarke down on the track, stuffing her pom poms into her bag and taking her bow out of her hair. Most of the other cheerleaders were with their boyfriends or already headed up to the parking lot, and there she was all by herself. Almost like she was waiting for him._

_He walked up behind her and asked, “So what’d you think?”_

_She spun around, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh my god, Bellamy, that was amazing!” she raved. “I don’t even really like football, but I was so into it.”_

_“I don’t even like cheerleading, but I’m into this,” he said, taking in the sight of her in that little skirt. How had he never paid more attention to her at games and pep rallies last year? Clarke was sexy as hell and had a body that wouldn’t quit. She put the other cheerleaders to shame. Raven was hot, too, of course, but he felt like Clarke was even hotter than her._

_“Are you gonna be at the parking lot party?” she asked._

_“Of course. Are you?”_

_She pretended to think about it, then decided, “I could make an appearance.”_

_He put his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him even though he knew he must have smelled pretty bad. He sort of wanted to kiss her, and he probably would have had he not heard a shrill “Bellamy!” from Bree._

_Groaning in frustration, he slowly turned to the side to see the homecoming queen stomping towards him._

_“What’s this?” she demanded, motioning between him and Clarke. “I thought we were gonna hang out tonight.”_

_“Since when?” They hadn’t made any plans to do that._

_“Well, I just assumed . . .” She trailed off._

_“Maybe I wanna hang out with Clarke tonight,” he said, not really concerned with being polite. Bree was clingy as hell sometimes, and he’d always tried to be pretty up front with her that their relationship was strictly about sex._

_She took another look at Clarke, snorted, and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Then she stormed off towards the parking lot. She’d probably try to make out with Miller tonight, but . . . little did she know, Miller wouldn’t be interested._

_Returning his attention to Clarke, he grinned and asked, “Wanna have some fun?”_

_As it turned out, Clarke was all about having fun that night. When he came out of the locker room, she was waiting for him on the bed of his truck. She hopped right off of it, and he could tell she’d already had something to drink, because she hiccupped and he smelled alcohol on her breath. She said she wanted another beer, though, so he got her one out of the cooler in the backseat. He watched her start to chug it, and that look on her face made it so obvious that she wasn’t used to chugging beer, so he stopped her halfway through and took the beer from her. “The rest is for me,” he told her._

_She smiled and leaned against his chest._

_Parking lot parties were always a good time, but this one was particularly lit, probably just due to how good the game had been. Music blasted out of Miller’s car, and a lot of people started dancing. It was so much better than homecoming, where the DJ could only play the clean versions of songs. They played some real nasty shit, and it seemed to be making Clarke horny. At one point, she climbed up into his truck, giving everyone a little peep show of the spandex beneath her cheerleading skirt, and motioned for him to crawl up there with her. People were definitely already noticing how much they were spending time together tonight, so he just went for it. He got up in the truck with her and kissed her, the alcohol on his breath mingling with the alcohol on hers, but he quit when he sensed cell phones coming out to snap pictures and take videos. “Stop,” he told everyone. He didn’t want any of this partying shit posted on Twitter or Instagram, not when he had colleges scouting him._

_The party started to get a little wilder after that. Bree ended up in the backseat of someone’s car, and everybody knew she was getting fucked. Zeke went home and swiped some of his parents’ booze, so the drinks were still flowing, and the music had gotten so loud that some of the neighbors were starting to scream at them to keep it down. Normally, the cops gave parking lot parties a wide berth, but when people started hearing sirens in the distance, they all cleared out pretty quickly._

_“What’s going on?” Clarke asked, stumbling over her own feet as he helped her to his truck._

_“Party’s over,” he said, helping her into the passenger’s seat. Just one too many drinks for Clarke Griffin tonight. No way was she gonna be able to drive home._

_Normally when he took girls home after football games, he took them to his place, but Clarke was three sheets to the wind—probably hadn’t done a whole lot of drinking before. So he drove to her house, or at least onto the street where he was pretty sure she lived. She mostly just fiddled around with the radio on the way, but when she saw her house, she pointed and said, “There.”_

There? _he thought, his eyes bulging at the size of her house. Wasn’t it just her and her mom and her dad? What did they need a house that big for? That place was one of the biggest houses in Arkadia. He remembered seeing people building it his freshman year of high school. He and Miller had snuck in there when it still wasn’t finished and smoked a couple joints during their short-lived pot phase._

_Basic movement was a struggle for Clarke right now, so he had to help her out of the car and walk with her to the front door. “Oh, Bellamy,” she groaned. “I don’t feel so well.”_

_“Yeah, that’s why I took you home.” She didn’t know it now, but she was gonna feel even worse in the morning._

_“Am I drunk?” she asked him._

_“Yeah, you’re pretty wasted.”_

_She leaned her head against his shoulder and mumbled, “I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk before.” All her words were kind of blending into each other. If her parents were still awake, there wasn’t gonna be a way to disguise what she’d been doing._

_It took a minute to actually get into the house, because Clarke couldn’t find her keys. Once she did, she couldn’t get it in the lock. He did it for her, then helped her through the door, but he wasn’t ready for what was inside._

_That house . . . was amazing. Their living room was bigger than his whole home. It was one of those two-story living rooms with a big chandelier hanging from the ceiling and huge windows that looked out onto . . . was that a pool? That was a fucking swimming pool, wasn’t it? And they had a grand piano and a huge big-screen TV, and one of those long wrap-around couches with perfectly arranged pillows on it. Damn. And they had a pretty nice kitchen, too. Double-fridge, double-oven, an actual full dining room table, which he and his mom didn’t even own. His family tended to eat around the TV. Marble countertops, wood floors . . . everything here looked like something straight out of an interior design magazine._

_“Where’s your room?” he asked, feeling like he could wander around that house for half an hour and still not find it._

_“Up the stairs,” she replied._

_They had to walk across the living room to get to the staircase, but so far, no sign of her parents, so that was good. “There you go, just one foot in front of the other,” he said as she struggled up the steps._

_At the top of the staircase, after they’d already headed to the right, she veered back to the left and said, “Wait, I have to tell my parents I’m home. Mom, I’m home!”_

_There were some giggles coming from behind some big double doors that probably led to her parents’ bedroom, followed by her mom saying, “Okay, honey!” in response._

_“Ew, I think they’re doing it,” she said, wrinkling her nose._

_“Nothing wrong with that.” Hell, if her parents were fucking, then it was her lucky day. They were gonna keep each other occupied tonight, and that meant she’d get away with her night of teenaged debauchery._

_“Here we go,” she said as he helped her to her bedroom. “This is my stop.” She pushed open the door, once again revealing a room that was nicer than anything he ever could have hoped for. It was kind of girly, very pink with everything exactly in its right place. It was nice for her, though. Plus, she had this cool bay window where she probably sat and looked outside sometimes._

_“Let’s get you in bed,” he said, walking into the room with her. Well, she wasn’t exactly walking anymore. He was kind of dragging her with him, but she was pretty lightweight, so it wasn’t tiring._

_“I like it when you get me in bed,” she said, laughing at her own joke._

_“Funny.”_

_She flopped down, face first, but he turned her around so that she was on her back. He sat down with her, smoothed her hair back from her face, and asked, “Did you have fun tonight?” even though the answer was obvious._

_“Yeah. Lots,” she said, her eyes barely open now._

_“You know, if you weren’t so drunk right now, I’d definitely wanna fuck you.”_

_Hearing that word seemed to snap her back to her senses. “We can still fuck,” she said, starting to lift her shirt up._

_He grabbed her wrists and stopped her. “No.” It was tempting, but he wasn’t gonna screw Clarke when she was like this. Even though they’d done it before, it was just kind of a murky area whenever a girl was drunk, and he didn’t wanna cross any lines he shouldn’t. “You need to sleep,” he told her. “Sleep it off, Clarke.”_

_She pouted. “Am I gonna be sick in the morning?”_

_“Probably.” He spotted a Disney princess trash can underneath her nightstand and pulled it close to her bed. “Here, a puke bucket, just in case.”_

_“Okay,” she said, turning over onto her side. She looked like she could fall asleep at any minute, but he wanted to cover her up, so he grabbed a blanket from her bay window and draped it over her. “Mmm,” she moaned. “Thanks for taking care of me.”_

_He didn’t usually go out of his way like this for most girls, but . . . Clarke was young, and he kind of had this little attachment to her he couldn’t quite shake, so he said, “No problem,” and waited until she’d fallen asleep before he decided to leave._

****

Bellamy drove around the parking lot, which was full of cars right now since school was in session, and he wondered if they still had parties there. Octavia hadn’t mentioned any, but Octavia wouldn’t have gone even if she’d been a cheerleader. She didn’t want to be anywhere around that school. She’d always just been Bellamy Blake’s sister, she said. Even though she got better grades than him and was a decent athlete herself, she always felt like she’d been living in his shadow as a student there. He felt bad about that, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

The truth was, he wouldn’t change much about high school. It’d been a good four years for him. Especially that last one. And it kind of sucked that it couldn’t just be like that again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Determined not to spend her whole Saturday just sitting around feeling sorry for herself, Clarke got up, got dressed, did some reading for her bio class, then went out to look for a job. It was time. She’d been living in the beach house for a while, and the rent stipulation, while new, was something that she understood and even agreed with. She didn’t need to be a freeloader off her parents anymore. Time to be an adult. For real this time.

Since she knew the manager at Eligius, she figured that was a good place to start. Charmaine Diyoza was a boss ass bitch. She’d bought that place a couple years ago and completely renovated the inside of it, and it had since become _the_ place to hang out in their small town. She was there that afternoon, of course, because the Maryland college football game was on ESPN, so a lot of people had shown up to watch it there. “Hey, Clarke,” she said as she wiped down the bar. “What can I do for you?”

Clarke slid onto an empty barstool and said, “Possibly a lot.”

“Oh, great. This sounds involved.” Diyoza grabbed two empty shot glasses and offered, “Should I pour tequila?”

“No.” It was true, though, that sometimes she liked to come in here and drink and vent to this woman when she was having relationship woes. That was actually what she’d been attempting to do five weeks ago when Finn had shown up and . . . well, things had just escalated, hadn’t they?

“No, tequila?” Diyoza pouted. “No fun.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, but she wasn’t about to explain why she was turning down alcohol right now. “I was just wondering if I could maybe get a job.”

The older woman’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Here?”

“Yeah.”

Diyoza processed that request for a moment, then chuckled. “No offense, Clarke, but have you ever worked a day in your life?”

She knew better than to be insulted by that question. Diyoza was just _very_ blue collar and had been working since she was fifteen. “Yeah, I used to work at the library, the one on campus,” she said. “But that didn’t pay very well and--”

“And you think this will?”

Clarke shrugged. “It’s better than nothing. My parents want me to pay rent for the beach house. So that I can be more independent. Which is fine. But I paid last month’s rent with karaoke tips. I really need a steady paycheck.” She shifted around a bit, then mumbled, “Besides, I think I’ll have some . . . expenses coming up in the next few months, and I need to be able to afford it.” She’d done a little research last night after she’d gotten home. Baby’s really broke the bank, it seemed.

Diyoza gave it only a few seconds’ thought, then slid the bar rag across the counter to Clarke. “You wanna start now?”

Clarke smiled, relieved that it’d been so easy. “Thank you.” She took the rag, got up, and walked around the counter to start wiping it down. She’d just figure out this job as she went. It couldn’t be too hard. As a frequent patron, she pretty much knew the menu by heart, and if she didn’t know how to make a drink, she’d just ask someone who had worked there longer.

Even though the football game was going badly for Maryland—total blowout—the people who had shown up were rowdy. They kept yelling at the refs, celebrating whenever Maryland managed a first down, and all in all just had a great time with their booze. Clarke passed out a lot of drinks, along with typical bar food like pizza and chips and burgers. There was only one guy back in the kitchen who had to make everything, and she felt sorry for him. Things didn’t start to quiet down until once the game was over, and even then, some people just stuck around and kept living it up. Clarke couldn’t say she blamed them. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she might have had a drink, too.

When the next football game came on—Notre Dame versus Rutgers; who’d care?—the door swung open, and Clarke froze like a deer caught in the headlights behind the counter when none other than Finn Collins walked in with some of his friends.

_Oh my god!_ she thought, panicked. Her first instinct was to hide, so she dropped down to the floor, happy that the bar could shield her from him.

Dammit, that was going to be the downside of this job, wasn’t it? Finn wasn’t here every night or anything, but he did show up once in a while. Entertainment options in Arkadia were limited. It was pretty much either this, the movie theater, a cockroach-infested club, or whatever sporting event happened to be going on at the college or at the high school on any given night.

Diyoza rounded the bar, giving her a curious look. “Clarke? What’re you doing down there?”

“My ex-boyfriend just walked in,” she said quietly.

Diyoza took one look towards the door, her eyes tracking Finn as he moved to a table. “Oh, yeah, that guy,” she said. “He looks cute. Not as cute as the guy you were with the other night, though. Who was that?”

“That was Bellamy, my other ex-boyfriend,” she explained, and yeah, even though Finn was good-looking, too, Bellamy was way hotter. “But I can’t talk about him right now. Can I just take an early break?”

Diyoza shook her head, laughing at her, and said, “Sure, why not?”

“Thanks.” In an effort to stay concealed, she crawled on her hands and knees towards the break room in the back. It was ridiculous and embarrassing, but hey, it was better than being around Finn right now. They were gonna have to talk eventually, _obviously_ , but . . . not yet.

Flinging herself onto the old, green, ratty couch back there, she groaned dramatically. This was horrible. What if he was there for hours? She couldn’t take _that_ long of a break. Maybe she could go help out the guy in the kitchen? He definitely looked a little overworked, like he could use some assistance.

Thankfully, her brand new boss came back into the breakroom about five minutes later and told her to take off early, that she’d already done enough work that day. Clarke thanked her profusely and slipped out the back. She headed straight home, glad to see that it wasn’t too late and that she had some time to veg out and relax for a while.

She crawled into bed early, before 8:00, because her feet were killing her from being on them for hours today. Of course, though, mental relaxation was not as easy as the physical kind. She could lie there like a slug if she wanted to, but that didn’t mean she could shut her mind off.

She ended up on her phone, looking up nearby doctor’s offices where she could have her first ultrasound done. It wasn’t like she could just pop on by the Arkadia hospital and have it done there, not with her mom being a doctor. She wasn’t ready to tell her yet, but word would get around if she had the ultrasound done in town. So she checked nearby Polis instead, found a small clinic where she could have it done, and decided that might be her best bet. That way she wouldn’t have to drive into the city and wait forever at some huge hospital.

Most of the information she found said that she could have her first ultrasound at six weeks if she wanted to. Which would be next week. That was about the earliest they could detect a heartbeat. But she didn’t see the need to do it quite so soon. Maybe during the seventh week would be best, just so the findings could be a little more . . . conclusive. She really didn’t want to go, have them not be able to detect a heartbeat, and then have to wonder whether she was still pregnant or not. That would involve taking more home pregnancy tests afterward, and that just sounded . . . awful. Because if she had to take another one of those things, it just felt like a lose-lose situation. Either it was negative and that meant something had happened to the baby, or it was positive and she was a total failure as a mother for not feeling happier about that.

She typed out a quick reminder in her phone for tomorrow. _Schedule ultrasound_. Then she shut the whole damn thing off, set it on her nightstand, and turned off the lamp next to the bed. Rolling over onto her side, pulling the covers all the way up over her shoulders, she hoped that the low background noise of the TV would be enough to calm her busy brain and lull her to sleep. And once she was sleeping, she hoped she'd dream about Bellamy. That would be nice.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

Bellamy did not bother to get out of his sister’s way, even though she was coming straight towards him. She didn’t seem to notice that the walk symbol was not showing at the crosswalk, nor did she notice him standing on the other side of the street. She had her earbuds in and her phone in her hand, so she was off in her own world. When she bumped into him, that finally got her to look up.

“You should really watch where you’re going,” he suggested as he pulled one earbud out of her ear.

“Sorry,” she said, yanking the other one out. “I was looking at this picture Katie Hoffman posted. You remember her, right? Total bitch, always thought she was better than everyone else.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Turns out she’s already pregnant.” Grunting, she shook her head, and returned her eyes to her screen. “God, what a slut.”

Bellamy tensed a bit, automatically thinking of someone else who was pregnant right now. Someone who definitely _wasn’t_ a slut. “Where you headed?” he asked her.

Groaning, she put her phone away and continued walking. “Stats class. You wanna go in my place? ‘cause that’d be cool.”

He followed along beside her and said, “Oh, come on, college isn’t that bad. You know, some people would do anything to be able to go.”

“Well, if college is so great, then why did you drop out of it?” she asked.

He had his reasons, valid ones, but there was no way he was getting into it.

“Stumped you on that one, huh?” She probably meant it to come off in a teasing way, but his stalled college plans were a sore spot for him, more than she knew. “You know, you could probably enroll here,” she said. “It’s not like you’re that old.”

He made a face. “I’m not old at all.”

“Twenty-three. That’s almost a quarter of a century.”

Well, when she put it like that, she made him _feel_ old. “Alright, so that means I’m older and wiser, and maybe you should listen to me,” he said, turning it around on her. “College is good for you. Just make the right choices and you’ll be fine.”

She failed to stifle a laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just . . .” She stepped in front of him, readjusting her backpack on her shoulders. “You’re standing here telling me to make the right choices? I love you, Bellamy, but you did some wild things growing up. Sex and drinking and more sex and partying. And probably more sex on top of that.”

Yeah, so he was a hypocrite. Weren’t most adults? “I know I didn’t always set the greatest example back then,” he acknowledged.

“But that’s not gonna stop you from being the over-protective big brother now.” She sighed heavily. “Well, can’t protect me from the frat party I’m going to tonight.”

“Frat party?” He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be fun.”

Dammit it all to hell, he wanted to say something to talk her out of going, but he didn’t want to be so over-protective that it just pushed her to discard his advice even more.

“Relax, I’m going with my roommate. It’s fine,” she said. “Why don’t you just fuck Clarke again? It’d take your mind off of worrying about me.” Smirking, she spun and continued walking down the sidewalk. She put her earbuds back in, took her phone back out, and he hung back and let her go. As much as he hated to admit it, she was an adult now, too. He just hoped she didn’t end up finding herself in Clarke’s situation, or an even worse one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke was already making a mental list of what she had to do in between classes as she got up and walked down the steps of the auditorium at the end of BIO 452. Scheduling the ultra sound was a big one. The office had been closed yesterday, so she had to schedule it today. No way around it.

Professor Jaha was handing out essays as students left the room, and she was the last one left, so her essay was the only one still in his hand. “Excellent work, as always,” he said, smiling at her proudly.

“Really? I wasn’t super confident about this one.” She’d stayed up until 3:00 a.m. one night last week, practically pulled an all-nighter because she’d had such a hard time concentrating what with thoughts of her late period on her mind.

“You should be confident, Clarke,” Jaha urged. “Your research is sound, your analysis is interesting. You’ve got a bright future in the medical field. I’m sure your mother’s proud of you.”

Her mom definitely was, for her college achievements, at least. “Thanks.” She folded up her essay and stashed it in her backpack, not quite sure she deserved the grade she’d gotten. Jaha was Wells’ father, though, and even though she and Wells hadn’t lasted beyond their freshman year of high school, he’d always kind of had a soft spot for her. That was probably the _only_ reason why he’d let her answer that essay question she’d initially neglected the other day.

“So where do you plan to go to med school?” Jaha inquired. “Johns Hopkins?”

“In Baltimore?” That’d been on her radar once, but now . . .

“Yes. Isn’t that where your mother went?”

“Yeah, but I don’t . . . I don’t know if I’m gonna . . .” Being pregnant was _really_ going to impact her future plans, because there was no way she could go to medical school _and_ be a single mom both at the same time. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” she said, eager to evade the question. “Anyway, I have to go, but thanks for the, uh, the grade.” Normally, she would have stuck around and talked to her professor a little bit, may have even asked how Wells was doing at Brown, but today, she just wanted to get out of there before he asked her any more questions about her future.

As she was making her way to the student union, her cell phone vibrated in the side pocket of her backpack. She took it out and saw the name of someone who didn’t typically call her on the screen.

“Hi, Dad,” she answered excitedly. It’d been over a month since they’d talked.

“How’s the birthday girl?”

She smiled. “Better now. So far you and mom are the only ones who’ve remembered.”

“What’d she get you?” he asked.

“A lot of things for around the house. Decorations and stuff.”

“Hmm. Well, make sure you check the mail. You should have a card in there from me.”

“A card?” she echoed. Not that she was ungrateful or anything, but . . . her dad had gotten her a _card_ for her birthday?

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to get you, so I wrote you a check, figured you could just buy what you want that way.”

She pressed her lips together tightly, if only to keep from exhaling in disappointment. There was nothing wrong with money, and her dad definitely had plenty of it. But wasn’t money the kind of gift you gave someone when you had absolutely no idea what else to give? How did her own father of all people just have _no_ idea?

When she got home, the first thing she did after getting out of the car was check the mail. And indeed, there was a card from him, right on schedule. She slid her fingernail underneath the seal of the envelope to open it up, took the card out, and completely ignored the colorful design on the front in favor of flipping straight to the inside to see if he’d written her anything. He really hadn’t. There was a generic happy birthday message printed on the card itself, but underneath in his sloppy penmanship was simply _Love, Dad_. It was so impersonal, so insignificant, that he may as well have not even signed it at all.

“Nice, Dad,” she mumbled sarcastically, feeling like she couldn’t even appreciate the two-hundred dollar check he’d slipped in there. That wasn’t pocket change, and she actually _was_ grateful for that. But she would have preferred a cheap present from him, as long as it’d come from the heart.

Card in hand, she climbed the front porch steps, inserted her key into the lock, and pushed the door open. She’d barely crossed the threshold when . . .

“Surprise!”

What in the actual fuck? There were people all over her living room, people who jumped up from behind the couches and crawled out from underneath her desk. It wasn’t just Raven and Murphy and her other friends, either. There were people there she hadn’t hung out with a whole lot since high school. Including Bellamy.

“Oh my god, we really surprised you!” Raven exclaimed, bounding towards her. “I didn’t think we’d pull it off.” She threw her arms around Clarke and hugged her excitedly then yelled to somebody, “Music!”

As music began to play, Clarke looked around unsurely and asked her friend, “What is this?” Although . . . it was sort of obvious.

Murphy, with his camera in hand, of course, was filming everything. “This is my friend Clarke’s twenty-second birthday party,” he narrated. “Let’s see if anything exciting happens tonight. I doubt it, but you never know.”

Her other closest friend, Harper, came towards her next, her long blonde hair practically cascading behind her in ways Clarke’s never had when it was longer. They hugged, too, and Harper said, “Hey, just so you know, Raven planned the whole thing.”

“Harper helped,” Raven made sure to add.

“You guys . . .” Now that the initial surprise had worn off and she looked around, she was sort of touched that, not only had they not forgotten, they’d also decorated. There were streamers and balloons and a happy birthday banner hanging above her kitchen table. “Thank you. What did I do to deserve such good friends?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Harper joked.

She laughed, then scanned the room, noting all the faces. “Oh, wow, there’s a lot of people here,” she remarked. “Monty and Lexa and . . . Bellamy.” She gave Raven a look. “You invited Bellamy?”

“Well, yeah. He’s your friend,” Raven replied casually.

“He’s a little more than that.” There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Raven was trying to play matchmaker, and honestly, if it hadn’t been for her bun in the oven, it may have even worked. “Are you filming?” she asked Murphy when his camera got obnoxiously close to her face. “Stop filming this.”

“Birthday girl’s gettin’ bitchy,” Murphy grumbled. “Let’s go see what everyone else is up to.” He carried his camera towards Monty, Harper’s boyfriend, but Monty, as usual, just ignored it.

“Relax, he’ll edit all this,” Raven assured her. “Now let loose and enjoy your party.”

“Woo!” Harper exclaimed, and in typical Harper fashion, she started dancing. Girl was a good dancer.

Normally, Clarke didn’t have a huge problem letting loose. She’d learned how to party in high school, and in college she’d learned how to do it more responsibly. Most of the time. But when Raven put a bottle of beer in her hand, it wasn’t like she could drink it. So she just sort of walked around, awkwardly holding it, hoping no one noticed that it was never getting any emptier.

It _was_ fun to see some people she hadn’t interacted with in a while. Jasper Jordan was one of them. He’d graduated high school the year after her, but she hadn’t _really_ hung out with him since the year she and Bellamy had been together. “Jasper!” she exclaimed, hugging him as she meandered through the living room. “Long time, no see.” He didn’t look like as much of a dork these days; he probably still was one, but his clothes were no longer Pokémon-themed, and he wore sophisticated glasses instead of his goggles.

Miller was there, too, which was awesome, because Miller was awesome. He’d gone to Arkadia on a wrestling scholarship and had to be a third-year senior at this point. She’d seen him a few times in the on-campus LGBTQ group, but he didn’t attend the meetings or events nearly as frequently as she did.

Talking to Jasper and Miller was nice and everything, but they didn’t take too much of her time. It was like there was some unspoken understanding that she needed to talk to Bellamy more, so they gave them a little space. Space that Clarke wasn’t quite sure what to do with. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. Thanks for coming.” It really was kind of nice to have him there.

“Of course,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind I invited the guys along.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s good to see them.” And it was good to see Bellamy spending time with them, too. It was just like old times. Except for her being knocked up and everything. “Did you meet Lexa?” she asked him.

“Yeah, while we were waiting.” He wriggled his eyebrows. “Pretty hot ex-girlfriend, Clarke. I’m impressed.”

Yeah, Lexa was definitely gorgeous, the kind of girl who could be a size 2 without even trying and didn’t have to wear any makeup to look like she belonged in a magazine. “Well, we’re just friends now,” she said. “Did you see who Monty’s dating?”

“Yeah, it was, uh . . . Haley or something, right?”

“Harper.” At least he’d been close, though. “She was my roommate freshman year, and then after Raven and Zeke broke up, the three of us were like a trio.”

“Like Charlie’s Angels?” Bellamy said. “Hot.”

They _were_ a pretty hot trio, if she did say so herself, and they’d always all gotten along so well. She wasn’t one of those girls who had _tons_ of friends, but the ones she did have were definitely keepers. “I’m sure Jasper’s happy to have you back,” she said. “He always told people you were the only reason high school wasn’t hell for him.”

“Yeah, I missed that kid.” Bellamy’s eyes drifted to the stairs, and Clarke followed his glance to see Jasper trying to moonwalk . . . _up_ the stairs. Bellamy chuckled. “Look at him, he’s such a spaz.”

“He really is,” she agreed. Jasper was pretty loveable, though, and as a senior, Bellamy had probably rescued that kid from four years of horrendous high school bullying.

“So I take it Raven doesn’t know that you’re . . .” He trailed off, motioning to the bottle in her hand.

“Oh. No,” she said. “I haven’t told her yet.” She and Harper both were going to find out eventually. When she was ready.

“What about your parents?” he questioned.

She shook her head.

“The boyfriend?”

“ _Ex_ -boyfriend,” she corrected. “And no, I haven’t told him.” She felt kind of shady about that, but . . . she just didn’t feel ready.

“That’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to tell him yet.”

No, but she was going to have to tell him soon. And if he didn’t believe her, she’d show him the pregnancy test _and_ the ultrasound as proof.

“You want me to help you out with that?” he asked, pointing to her beer.

Inconspicuously, she handed it over to him, and he tossed his head back and took a few gulps. “Thanks,” she said when he handed it back to her. Even though she hadn’t told him about her news under the most ideal circumstances, it was nice to feel like she at least had someone to confide in.

She probably could have stayed there and talked to Bellamy a lot longer, but she wanted to go say hi to Lexa, too, so she excused herself from him momentarily and interrupted Lexa and Harper as they danced together.

“Hey!” Lexa exclaimed, squeezing her tightly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said. “You look great.”

“So do you,” Lexa complimented. “You’re glowing.”

Clarke felt her whole facial expression just shift. “What?” Did Lexa know? How could she? Bellamy wouldn’t have said anything, and she wasn’t supposed to start showing at all yet.

“Having him back,” Lexa said, giving her arm a little nudge. “I can just tell you’re excited.”

“Oh, right.” Well, she _was_ excited about that. And of course Lexa knew. Lexa had heard her talk about Bellamy a lot over the years, sometimes in her sleep and sometimes out loud. It wasn’t one of the reasons why they had broken up or anything, but Lexa had once told her that she knew she wasn’t the one for her. Not that Bellamy necessarily was. Not that he could be now.

“Gotta say, if I wasn’t gay, I could understand the attraction,” Lexa remarked, eyeing Bellamy across the room. “He’s even better-looking than you made him sound.”

Clarke smiled and blushed. Yes, all her exes were hotties, but damn, Bellamy was just plain smoldering. He always had been.

****

_Although her sketchbook was getting full, Clarke still had a couple blank pages in the back of it to draw whatever she wanted. Since she had gotten all her homework done and didn’t need to use her study hall to do any actual studying, she went to the library, sat down at one of the large tables, and jotted down a quick sketch of somebody whose features were becoming increasingly easy to recall: Bellamy._

 _Bellamy Blake was_ not _an easy guy to draw. His skin tone was gorgeous but difficult to replicate, and his freckles were adorable, but she wasn’t sure if she was including too few or too many of them. She loved drawing hair, and he had a thick, luscious head of hair to draw, but his eyes and mouth challenged her. Bellamy managed to say so much with his eyes, more than she felt capable of drawing, and that smile of his . . . she just couldn’t quite capture how contagious his smile was._

_Just as she was putting some finishing touches on the base of her sketch, a shadow came over her book. When she looked up, there stood Bree, hands on her hips, a scowl on her face. “You do know you’re not his girlfriend, right?” she snapped._

Jealous much? _Clarke thought. “Neither are you,” she pointed out, returning her attention to her drawing. She was so not in the mood for petty girl drama._

_With no quick comeback, Bree just huffed and marched off. What the hell had she even been doing in the library? Bree didn’t study, even though she was one of the students who actually needed to. Maybe she’d been trying to convince poor Jasper to do her homework, because yes, a freshman could probably do math better than she could._

_Glancing up at the clock, Clarke noticed she only had a few minutes left before the bell rang, and she wanted to check out a new book, so she closed her sketchbook, grabbed her things, and headed into the stacks to search for anything that caught her eye. She’d already finished the book club’s latest piece to read, and she needed something else now._

_Plucking an anthology of some of the classics off the shelf, she flipped through a few pages, not sure if she was in the mood for something more modern or something that had stood the test of time. As she was reading the first paragraph of one of the stories, a gruff voice came over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good one. I read it every night.”_

_A pleasurable shiver traversed her spine when she felt his body close in behind hers. “Hey, Bellamy,” she said, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. Spinning around, she noted, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the library before.”_

_“Yeah, I try not to set foot in here,” he said. “But someone told me it was where I could find you, so . . . here I am.”_

_He’d been looking for her? The thought made her stomach tingle. Unfortunately, it also made her a klutz, because she accidentally lost hold of her sketchbook, and it fell to the floor. “Oh, shit,” she cursed._

_He bent down despite the heavy backpack on his shoulders and picked it up for her. Of course, though, he just happened to spot the sketch of him towards the back, and she lowered her head, her face reddening with embarrassment._

_“What’s this?” he asked. “Did you draw this?”_

_“Yeah,” she admitted sheepishly. “It’s not my best.” It’d be better one it was finished, but right now, it was looking kind of rough._

_“So you like drawing, huh?” he said, closing her book and handing it back to her._

_“Yeah, I love it.”_

_He put his hands on either side of her head, gripping the bookshelves, and flirtatiously asked, “What else do you like?”_

_Well, she loved singing, and even cheerleading, sometimes, but she wanted to give him a taste of his own flirty medicine, so she instead opted for, “Doing things with you.”_

_That look in his eyes was so lustful, so intense, that she honestly thought he might press her back against that bookshelf and make out with her right there. But before he got the chance, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and the sounds of students flooded the halls. “I got football practice,” he groaned._

_Well, that was pretty important, she supposed. Team couldn’t very well practice without their star quarterback._

_“You wanna come over later?” he invited._

_Her breath hitched momentarily, but she tried to play it cool. “To do what?”_

_“Things.” A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “With me.”_

_She smiled back at him, acting coy even though it wasn’t even a question in her mind. Yes, she wanted to do things with Bellamy. All the things. She’d just tell her mom she was going over to Raven’s for a while tonight._

_Football practice ran late, so Clarke had to wait impatiently for over two hours. But Bellamy texted her right when he got home, and she headed over there in a hurry. He worked a little magic with his hands, but other than that, they pretty much cut straight to the sex. Once again, he was on top, which was fine by her, because that meant she didn’t really have to do anything except lie there with her legs open and let him do his thing._

_“Ah!” she cried out, hoping he’d meant it when he assured her his mom and sister weren’t home. “Ah!” An orgasm tore through her, only her second one ever, and it was even better than the first. Because this time, he was inside her, and he came right after, pressing his hips hard into hers as his whole body clenched up. “Uh . . .” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut while he experienced the same kind of pleasure he’d just given her._

_It took them both a moment to come back to earth, to just lie there with each other panting for air. But he was the first to speak when he lifted his head from her shoulder and asked, “Did you like that?”_

_“Yeah.” Sex with Bellamy was like a drug; she just wanted more. “Did we . . . together?”_

_“Uh-huh.” He could barely even nod his head. “I felt you cum, and it made me cum, too.”_

_Oh god, thinking of that just turned her on even more. She wondered what it felt like for him, because she knew her pussy kind of squeezed and clamped down on him in that moment. And it was already a tight fit down there to begin with._

_“It didn’t hurt so much this time, did it?” he asked as he slowly pulled out of her._

_“No. Just a little a bit when we started. But then it felt good.”_

_He laughed breathily and gave her a kiss, staying on top of her even though they weren’t joined anymore. “It felt good to me, too.”_

****

“Alright, time for presents!” Raven exclaimed, and Clarke didn’t hate the sound of that. She’d seen a small pile of presents on her kitchen table, and she’d been itching to unwrap them since the party had started.

“My attendance is my present,” Murphy declared.

“Oh, shut up.” Raven whacked her boyfriend’s shoulder, then pulled him down next to her on the couch. “This is from both of us,” she said, handing Clarke a shiny gold gift sack.

Like a little kid, Clarke dug into the tissue paper. She felt something silky inside, and when she pulled out turquoise lingerie. A bra that would barely cover anything, a thong that would cover even less.

“Just to wear for . . . someone,” Raven said. “Anyone.”

Bellamy was standing right next to the couch, and she couldn’t really help but cast a quick glance at him, just to gauge his reaction. He looked . . . kind of intrigued, but he didn’t say anything.

“Thanks, Raven,” Clarke said, quickly putting the sexy—and admittedly gorgeous—lingerie back in the sack. “What’s next?”

“Here, open mine,” Harper said, handing her a smaller sack. “It’s a book.”

Well, that sort of took the surprise out of it, but Clarke still tore open the paper eagerly anyway. “Smutty romance novel,” she noted. “Thanks, I love it.” When she and Harper had been dorm-mates, they’d been addicted to smutty fanfics for all sorts of teen shows.

Lexa’s present was fun—a _Sports Illustrated_ desk calendar with 365 hot swimsuit-clad girls on it for the coming year. The guys mostly played it safe with gift cards, which she was more than okay with, because she hadn’t expected gifts from Miller and Jasper anyway. But Bellamy had clearly gone a different route when he handed his present over. “Here,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

“Bellamy, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course he did,” Raven said. “Open it.”

As she peeled back the paper, she wasn’t sure what to expect from a package that felt very much like another book. But when she felt the leather front of it and saw that it was absent of any title, she knew exactly what it was, even before she opened it up to reveal dozens upon dozens of blank pages.

“I don’t know if you still draw, but . . .” He trailed off.

_A sketchbook_ , she thought, staring at it in awe. She hadn’t had a new one of those in a while.

“Not nearly as much as she should,” Harper said. “That’s a good gift, Bellamy.”

It wasn’t just good. It was perfect. She really did miss drawing sometimes. “Thank you,” she said, meeting his eyes in gratitude.

He just nodded mutely, as though it were no big deal, but it felt like one to her.

That night, after everyone had left and it was just her alone upstairs in her room, she sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard with her brand new sketchbook on her lap. She didn’t have any of her drawing pencils here, just regular ones, but they would do.

It’d been a few months—not years—since she’d attempted a sketch of Bellamy Blake, but naturally he was the only thing she felt like drawing tonight. What had once been difficult was so easy now. She had his eyes memorized, and his smile would always stick with her. By now, she knew how many freckles to add to make it look just like him, and his skin tone was something she could easily shade in. The only challenge this time was adding the beard, and even that wasn’t too hard.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

Clarke wasn’t sure whether her mom had the day off or not—being a doctor meant that her hours weren’t always regular—but she figured she’d swing by and spend some time at her house regardless of whether she was there or not. If Kane was there, she’d grill him about when he was going to pop the question to her mom and how he was going to do it. If neither one of them was there, she’d go float out in the pool in one of their inflatable chairs, kill a little time before her afternoon class.

When she pulled up in the driveway, her mother’s white Range Rover was indeed there, and when she went inside, she smelled food. Her mom _loved_ cooking on her days off, and cleaning, just doing the housewife stuff even though she was _so_ not a housewife.

“Hey, Mom,” she chirped as she joined her in the kitchen.

“Hi, honey.” Her mom was in the middle of stirring some pasta, so she didn’t give her a hug. “What brings you by?”

“Rent.” Clarke reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small wad of twenties. “I’m working now, so I shouldn’t have any late months.” _Except when it comes to my period_ , she thought bitterly. That thing was gonna be nine months late.

“Just set it on the counter,” her mom said. “Where are you working?”

She was a little bit hesitant to answer as she put the money down. “Eligius.”

Her mom made a face. “As a bartender? Oh, Clarke . . .”

“Well, a waitress,” she clarified. “I mean, I do serve drinks, but there’s nothing wrong with that.” Hell, her mom and Kane went to that bar sometimes, so it really wasn’t fair for her to be judgmental about it.

“No, I suppose there’s not,” her mom admitted with a sigh. She turned down the heat on the stove, then turned to face Clarke while the noodles continued to boil. “So how was your birthday?”

“It was good,” she said. Sliding onto one of the chairs at the kitchen island, she muttered, “Dad called. Talked for about five minutes. He got me a card, put some money in it.”

Her mom knew her well enough to know that such an impersonal gift was disappointing to say the least. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said sympathetically.

She shrugged, trying not to dwell on it. “It’s okay. At least he remembered. And my friends threw me a surprise party, so that was fun.”

“Oh, I’ll bet.” Her mom leaned across the counter, asking, “So what was your favorite gift you got?”

She smiled, the answer obvious. “A sketchbook.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a nice way to pass the time.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when her mom turned back around and went over to the stove to stir the pasta again. _A way to pass the time?_ Like art was just some silly little hobby or something. She loved her mom dearly, she did, but the woman had never understood that art and music were actual true passions.

She must have been spacing off a bit, because when her mom glanced back over her shoulder, she asked, “Clarke? Is everything okay?”

No, everything wasn’t, but she didn’t want her mom to know that yet. “Yeah,” she lied. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. You just look . . .” Her mother trailed off, turning off the burner altogether as she brought the pot over to the sink and dumped its contents into a strainer. “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

_Oh, because there is_ , Clarke thought. In fact, there were a couple of somethings.

Her mom gave her a few seconds to say something, but when she didn’t, she prompted, “What’s going on?” as she bumped the strainer against the side of the sink to drain all the excess water out.

There wasn’t a chance in hell she was dropping that pregnancy bomb, but she did feel like she owed it to her mom to tell her _something_. “Bellamy’s back,” she blurted, deciding that that was the lesser of two dramatic things.

“Bellamy Blake?”

“How many Bellamys do you know, Mom?” she joked. “Yes, Bellamy Blake.”

Her mother was silent as she dumped all the noodles back into the pot. “Hmm,” she said. “That’s interesting.” It almost seemed like she didn’t want to look Clarke in the eye when she asked, “Is he visiting?” because she suddenly was just _all_ focused on dumping that alfredo sauce onto the noodles and giving it a good stir.

“No, he moved back,” Clarke informed her. “He wants to be around now that Octavia’s in college.”

Her mother nodded wordlessly, but even though she wasn’t saying much, Clarke could tell that there were _so many_ thoughts running through her mind. “Have you seen him?” she inquired.

“Yeah, we hung out a little bit last week,” she answered vaguely, more than happy not to divulge that she’d seen him naked again, too. “And he was at the party last night.”

“Hmm,” her mother repeated. That one terse word said so damn much. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend getting back together with him, obviously,” she said, “because of the history. But maybe now the two of you can be . . . friends.”

_Maybe_ , Clarke thought. That wouldn’t be easy, though. She and Bellamy had gone straight from being acquaintances to sleeping with each other on a very regular basis. They’d never actually just been friends. She wasn’t sure it was possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After class got out, Clarke headed to the grocery store. When she’d lived at home, she’d never had to shop for food, and when she’d lived in an apartment, there had been a convenience store right across the street. Groceries were just another weekly errand now. As tempting as it was to just roll her cart through the aisles quickly and grab whatever she wanted, she’d heard that organic food was best for a baby, especially in these early stages of development, so she was at least going to try to get some organic produce.

She held up an orange, inspecting it, not sure what she was looking for. A special label, maybe? A special symbol? But there was nothing, so she asked the stock-boy, “Is this organic?” But he just shrugged cluelessly.

_Great_ , she thought, putting the orange in her cart anyway. Fruit of any kind couldn’t be bad, right? She’d look up more info when she got home. If organic really was all it was cracked up to be, she’d have to get in the car and drive somewhere with a bigger store. The only two stores in Arkadia were pretty small.

“Clarke?”

She whirled around when she heard her name. “Hey, Aurora,” she greeted, smiling at Bellamy’s mom. “How are you?”

“Oh, busy,” the gorgeous brunette replied. “You?”

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty busy, too.” _Busy screwing your son the other night_ , she thought, wondering if Aurora knew that. She probably did. Not only did she know her son _very_ well, but she also had this very strong mom-sense and just knew things.

“I like this haircut,” Aurora complimented. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” She touched her shorter hair, thinking she’d keep it like this for a while. It was a hell of a lot easier to manage.

“So what do you think about my son’s beard?”

_Feels good in between my legs_ , she immediately thought, but of course she censored herself. “That suits him, too.”

“Yeah, I think so,” she agreed. “He told me it was your birthday yesterday. Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Twenty . . . two?”

“Yep.”

Aurora shook her head in amazement. “Gosh, seems like just yesterday you were the sixteen year old girl sneaking in and out of Bellamy’s room.”

Clarke blushed a bit.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s okay. It’s true. I did do that,” she acknowledged. “You were a lot more lenient about it than my parents were.”

Aurora laughed. “Well, I know he’s really enjoyed getting to catch up with you. I’d love to catch up, too, if you’ve got a free evening sometime.”

“Oh, really?” She sometimes ran into Aurora at places like this, but it was pretty much just a quick conversation, no more than a couple minutes, and then it was done. Now Aurora sounded like she wanted to make plans, though.

“Yeah. Come on by some night this week,” she invited. “I’ll make dinner.”

Clarke just smiled, but she wasn’t sure how to respond. Would that be awkward if Bellamy was there? Or would he even be there? Maybe not. Maybe he was going out every single night. Or maybe he was hooking up with other girls.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So if Mason was so great,” Bellamy said, plucking an especially gooey mozzarella stick out of his and Miller’s shared appetizer basket, “why aren’t you still with him?”

His friend shrugged. “We were just at different places in our lives. It’s alright. It was for the best.”

Bellamy nodded, interpreting that as a mutual break-up then. He had some experience with that type. “So how’s your dad been about everything?” he asked, changing the topic.

“Pretty open-minded, actually,” Miller replied. “The first year was an adjustment, but nowadays, he tries settin’ me up with guys.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Good. I’m glad he came around.” How anyone had ever thought Miller was straight back in high school was a damn mystery to him. He’d always known, but he’d never mentioned it until Miller was outted by some jackass from Polis’s football team.

The door of the bar opened, and in came Clarke, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. She noticed him and Miller sitting in that booth, and she smiled slightly at him. He smiled and gave her a small wave back.

“Uh-oh,” his friend said, following his gaze. “I get the feeling I just became a lot less interesting.”

Well . . . he had. Bellamy wrinkled his forehead as he watched her head into the back room. For employees.

“Clarke works here now?” Miller said, surprised.

“Looks like.” All the more reason to come hang out at Eligius then, as far as he was concerned. He loved getting to see her.

“What about you? You find a job yet?” Miller asked.

“No. I haven’t really started looking,” he admitted. Somehow, all the jobs he’d had over the years had just sort of found him. He was hoping the same would happen here.

“Well, I got an ex-boyfriend who has a friend who works construction. I could ask about that for you,” Miller offered.

“Construction?” He had no experience with that.

“Might not be as interesting as driving a gondola, but . . .”

“You don’t _drive_ a gondola; you paddle one,” Bellamy corrected. “And yeah, sure, I’ll take you up on that.” He was strong and had always been decent at work that involved his hands. He’d built a birdhouse back in shop class, and that’d turned out alright, so maybe construction would come naturally.

When Clarke came out of the back room, she had an apron around her waist and an order pad tucked into the pocket. She headed behind the bar, and he heard her ask, “Hi, what can I get you?” to a man who had just sat down.

Bellamy couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Just go talk to her,” Miller urged him. “You know you want to.”

Of course he wanted to. And of course that was obvious. He knew Miller would be more than content to just sit there by himself for a bit and gobble up what was left of their food, so he slid out of the booth and headed up to the counter. Even though he probably wasn’t supposed to be behind it, he walked right up next to Clarke and asked, “Hey. What’s up with this?”

“Oh, I work here now,” she told him.

“Since when?”

“A couple days ago.” She gave the man at the counter his drink, told him to enjoy, and then motioned Bellamy to follow her down the bar. “So guess what?” she said.

“What?”

“I ran into your mom in the store today. Not the first time that’s happened, but this time, she invited me over for dinner this week.”

“Dinner?” he echoed.

“Yeah.”

Well, that was . . . sneaky of her. Not that he minded or anything, but he hadn’t had a clue she was going to do that. “What’d you say?” he asked.

“I-I didn’t really know what to say,” she stuttered, “so I just told her I’d have to check my work schedule. I mean . . . I don’t wanna be rude and turn her down, but if you don’t want me to be over there . . .”

“No, it’s fine,” he assured her. “You can come.” Hopefully Octavia wouldn’t stop by, though, because she didn’t have a filter like his mom did. His mom had enough common sense not to be too obvious with the hints she was dropping, but Octavia would just drop an anvil.

“Are you sure?” Clarke cringed. “Because if it’s too weird . . .”

“No, not at all.” She was welcome over there anytime as far as he was concerned. “I’ll tell her to plan on it. Tomorrow night maybe?”

She thought about it for a moment, then said, “Sure.”

“Alright.” He would have loved to keep talking to her, but a couple college kids sat down at one of the tables. “Miss?” one of the said, impatiently waving her over.

“I gotta get to work,” she said, stepping out past the bar to go serve them.

It was weird as fuck seeing Clarke as a waitress, but between rent, the expenses of daily life, and now a baby on the way . . . she had to make money somehow.

When he returned to his booth, Miller asked, “What was that all about?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, grabbing the last few French fires before his friend could. “Clarke just has a date with my mom now.”

Miller made an utterly confused face, but he just went with it and didn’t ask questions.

Even though Bellamy had all the time in the world to hang out longer, Miller had things to do, so he had to leave, and Bellamy felt like he might distract Clarke too much if he stayed. So he left her a tip, even though she hadn’t been his server, and headed out. When he was only a few feet away from his car, however, an all too familiar shrill screech rang out.

“Bellamy!”

_Oh, fuck_ , he thought, coming to a stop on the sidewalk. Slowly, he turned around.

Bree bounded toward him like an excited puppy and practically flung herself at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?” she said. “God, look at you. You look so good.” She rubbed her hands all over his chest, not even bothering to disguise her desire. “What about me? Do you like my boobs?”

“They’re . . . new,” he said, not sure what other word to use for them.

“They feel natural,” she boasted. “Here, feel.” Before he could even protest, she grabbed his hand and placed it on one of her breasts and held it there, and he just pressed his lips together tightly, trying not to say anything rude. But he was unimpressed to say the least. They didn’t feel real, and they were way too big to look natural, and honestly . . . Clarke’s boobs were just a lot better.

His hand still on Bree, he looked back inside the bar and met Clarke’s eyes for just a second. She was at the counter, clearly able to see everything that was going on out there. She tried to avert her eyes quickly, but he saw a flash of . . . something in her eyes. Not jealousy, because she’d never been jealous of Bree. But maybe it was disappointment? Like she was disappointed in him for feeling another girl up right out there in public, even though that hadn’t been his intention.

He pulled his hand away, sighing heavily, feeling guilty even though he really had no reason to. Clarke wasn’t his girlfriend. But in a way . . . she still felt like his girl.

****

_“Fuck, my grades are in the shitter, man,” Bellamy grumbled as he took a look at the mid-quarter report his coach had inconspicuously given him at their meeting this morning._

_As they headed down the hall, Miller said, “Let me see,” and grabbed the paper from him. He actually winced as though the grades were painful to look at. “Yeah, they’re not great,” he agreed. “I don’t get it. Isn’t Monty tutoring you?”_

_“Yeah, but I still bombed a couple tests.” He shook his head, disappointed with himself. Chemistry was killing him right now. He knew everything about the only kind of chemistry that mattered, the kind you had with chicks. But this science shit wasn’t his thing, and every test involved so much damn reading._

_“Hey, look you got an A in P.E., though,” Miller pointed out before handing his grades sheet back to him._

_“Yeah.” Typical. His body worked a lot better than his brain did. He crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the trashcan._

_“Hey, Bellamy,” some girl said to him cheerily as she walked by._

_“Hey,” he said back._

_Miller snorted. “Who was that?”_

_“I don’t know, some freshman who wants to bang me.” Whoever it was, she wore too much makeup. He wasn’t interested._

_“You gonna go for it?” Miller asked him. “Or are you all attached now?”_

_He stopped walking and stood in front of his friend to block his progress. “To who?”_

_“Oh, you know who.”_

_“Clarke?” A couple of guys on the team had been asking him about her. At this point, it was pretty obvious that they’d slept together, and they wanted details. He wasn’t giving any, though. No need to publicize or boast about anything they’d done together. She probably wouldn’t want that._

_“You guys have been gettin’ kind of cozy,” Miller noted. “Out in the parking lot last week, you were all over each other. What’s goin’ on?”_

_“Nothing,” he said, not at all into the pressure of putting labels on relationships. “She’s cute. She likes me.”_

_“Do you like her?”_

_“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend or anything.” Right after he said that, he watched Miller’s facial expression just shift, drastically, and he looked at someone over Bellamy’s shoulder._

Oh, no, _he thought, pretty sure he smelled her perfume. He turned around, hoping he was wrong and that Clarke_ hadn’t _just overheard all that, but there she was, right behind him, clutching her books to her chest. Just walking through the hallway like he and Miller were. And of course she’d had to be walking right here right at this moment._

_She looked hurt, no doubt about that. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just lowered her head and didn’t say anything to him as she hurried right on past. He watched her walk away, feeling like such a jerk. He didn’t really date girls, but that didn’t mean he set out to make them feel bad about anything. Especially not sweet girls like Clarke Griffin. But now, he’d gone and done just that. Hurt her feelings with his words._

_It wasn’t a good feeling for him, either._

****

Bree looked utterly perplexed as to why Bellamy wasn’t acting more interested in her. But was it really that surprising? Senior year’s homecoming dance was the last time they’d really hooked up at all, and after that, he’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested anymore.

“You wanna hang out later?” she asked.

‘Hang out’ was pretty much just a euphemism for sex. Normally, that was his favorite way to pass the time, and he’d passed plenty of time that way with plenty of women all over the world. But Bree just wasn’t someone he was interested in sleeping with anymore. “No,” he decided, stepping down off the sidewalk to get in his car. No, he didn’t wanna hang out with her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke did end up coming over for dinner that next night, and Bellamy sort of . . . planned out what he was gonna wear in advance like a fuckin’ moron. Just a nicer pair of jeans and black t-shirt that accentuated his muscles. She looked just as nice, even better, in a white casual dress with a floral design on it. He made sure to tell her she looked nice, too, just so she knew he’d noticed.

His mom was a good cook—having a strict grocery budget over the years had taught her to do a lot with a little—so she made a really good casserole and a fruit salad, and they heated up some rolls, too. Bellamy definitely noticed that Clarke was already onto her third roll before he’d even finished his first, eating for two and all, but he wasn’t about to mention it.

“I’m so glad we could do this,” his mom said as she scooped some more casserole onto her own plate. And Bellamy had to agree. The conversation hadn’t been awkward or stilted. His mom and Clarke had always gotten along pretty well, and they still did.

“It’s really nice of you,” Clarke said.

“Oh, it’s no problem.”

Bellamy reached to the center of their small kitchen table for the butter, needing more for his roll. “Food’s good, Mom,” he complimented.

“Thanks, I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah, it’s way better than anything I could cook,” Clarke added.

“Do you eat Ramen noodles?” he teased her.

“No, that’s such a college stereotype.”

If her eating habits were still the same, he was pretty sure she had a whole shelf full of Kraft mac and cheese, though, and probably lots of frozen food, too.

“So how has college been for you?” his mom asked. “Octavia’s not liking it so far.”

“Oh, I’ve enjoyed it,” Clarke said. “It gets busy, but it’s worth it.”

His mother tilted her head to the side and inquired curiously, “What’re you studying?”

“Biology.”

Bellamy frowned, wishing it was something else.

“The plan is to go to med school,” she explained, “become a doctor like my mom.”

Bellamy grunted. “When did that become the plan?”

“What do you mean?” she said. “It’s always been the plan.”

“No, it didn’t used to be,” he argued. “I remember talking to you about it. You said you wanted to study art or music.”

“Or medicine.”

There was some revisionist history going on, because he recalled many conversations where she’d lamented the fact that her parents seemed to have her whole future planned out for her. “No, your mom and dad wanted you to study medicine. You felt pressured to do that,” he claimed.

She didn’t exactly disagree, but she gave him almost sharp look and said, “Well, things change.”

He frowned again, confused. Yeah, things changed, but . . . not _everything_. It seemed to him like she’d just gone the safe route instead of pursuing what she was really passionate about. And he didn’t blame her for that, but still . . . it just kind of sucked that she wasn’t really exploring her talents.

“Artist, singer, doctor . . .” his mom recapped. “You can’t go wrong with any of those careers if you ask me.”

Clarke smiled sheepishly, then shot Bellamy a quick look out of the corner of her eye. He felt kind of bad for being argumentative. Whatever she wanted to study was up to her. He hadn’t been around for years, so maybe she really truly had changed her mind and become passionate about the medical career field, too. And regardless of what she ended up doing with her life, at least she had more of a plan than he did. So who was he to judge?

They sat around and talked a little longer after they were done eating—his mom was interested in what Clarke’s classes were like, because she revealed, much to Bellamy’s surprise, that she was thinking about enrolling and taking a class or two herself. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to study, she said, but she just wanted to get her feet wet and see if college was the right fit for her. Clarke gave her all sorts of advice on which intro classes to take, but she’d seemed to talk herself out of it by the end of it. She said that Octavia’s student loans were already enormous, and the last thing she needed was to add on to that. Bellamy hoped she’d reconsider, though. Right now his mom was working part-time as a seamstress and full-time as a maid at the hotel on the outside of town. She’d sacrificed a lot of her opportunities for her future when she’d had him at seventeen.

Around 9:00, Clarke decided that it was probably time to leave, but she made sure to give his mom a hug and express her gratitude when she said, “Thank you, Aurora. Everything was great.”

“Thanks for coming,” his mom said, her arm around Clarke’s shoulders as she led her to the door. “Good to see you.” She slinked away then, however, and retreated into the kitchen, but not before giving Bellamy a pointed look. He felt like maybe she wanted him to walk her out to her car or something, maybe even kiss her goodnight.

“Well, this was fun,” Clarke said as they stood at the door.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Truthfully, he wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime. “Mind if I come with you?” he asked, motioning outside.

She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a look. “Are you gonna grill me about my major some more?”

“Sorry about that,” he apologized. A moment of assholery. He had those from time to time.

She thought about it—or more than likely _pretended_ to think about it for a moment—then allowed a slow smile to spread onto her face. “Come hang out for a while, if you want,” she invited.

Yeah, he definitely wanted to hang out with Clarke.

Instead of following her to her house, he hopped right in the passenger’s seat of her car and rode there with her. They listened to some music from high school, enjoying the throwback, and he sang along badly while she sang beautifully.

When they got to her place and walked inside, she turned on the living room lamps on either side of the longest couch, and he was once again reminded how amazing this place was. Most girls her age didn’t live in houses like this. And the view . . . it looked better in the daytime, but even at night, it was still pretty incredible.

“You don’t have to worry about driving me home,” he told her.

She set her purse and kegs down on the couch and said, “What, you’re just gonna walk?”

“No, I’m gonna run,” he decided. “I gotta get back in shape.”

“You’re _out_ of shape?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t really _feel_ out of shape, but he’d seen a lot of former teammates since he’d been back, and almost all of them had beer bellies an dad bods now, and he didn’t want to end up like them. “All I’ve done since I’ve been back is sleep in and go to the bar. I need to work out.”

Her eyes roamed up and down him for a few seconds, and then she swayed towards him with a little gleam in her eyes. “Well, just my opinion,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him flirtatiously, “but I think you got a pretty good workout the other night.”

_Oh, Clarke . . ._ He loved it when she talked like that. His princess had one beautiful, dirty mind. “Yeah, I did,” he agreed, thinking about how fast his heart got to racing when they were together. It was better than any regular cardio workout, that was for sure.

For a second, it seemed like she wanted to keep flirting with him, maybe press herself against him and kiss or something. But she sort of blinked, dropped her gaze from his, and then took a few steps back. “So do you wanna see what’s on TV?” she asked, reaching for the remote control on the coffee table.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Do you?” he questioned back.

“What do you mean?”

Oh, she knew exactly what he meant, but it was cute that she was trying to be coy. “Never mind,” he said, trying not to push his luck. Dinner tonight had been nice. The car ride here had been nice. Sitting down and watching some pointless program with her would be nice, too. Not as nice as sex, but . . .

“What?” she kept on, not bothering to shake her wrist free of his grasp.

_Don’t do it_ , he thought as his eyes fixated on her soft, perfect lips. She had a lot going on in her life right now, and there was no need to complicate it.

Even as he told himself not to, he felt his hand sliding up her arm, pulling her closer to him. He lowered his head and found her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, unable to resist. It just felt so damn good, so familiar, almost like five years _hadn’t_ passed.

She kissed him back, of course, probably because it felt so familiar to her, too. But she was the one who eventually pulled away and put a premature end to it. “Bellamy . . .” She sounded so frustrated and reluctant to stop. “We shouldn’t,” she said.

Who the hell out there in the universe was deciding what they should or should not do, though? If they both still liked each other and were attracted to each other, then what was wrong with acting on that attraction? “Why not?” he challenged.

“You know why,” she mumbled.

Yeah, yeah, he knew she was pregnant. But did that have to matter so much? At least for tonight, it really didn’t matter to him.

“Alright, tell me to leave then,” he urged her. If she did that, then he’d respect her wishes and walk out right now, start off on his run towards home. But if she didn’t, then maybe he could just stay and get another good workout in with her.

He could practically see her mind racing as she thought about what she _should_ do and what she actually wanted to do. Clearly her id and her superego weren’t quite on the same page. Finally, she just said, “Oh, what the hell?” and gave in and flung herself into his arms. They kissed passionately, almost frenetically this time, with a reckless abandon that just completely overtook both of them She hopped up on him, coiling her legs around his waist, and he held her up easily as he stumbled around the living room, trying to decide whether to lay her down on the couch or bend her right over her kitchen counter. Hiking her dress right up, he splayed his hands against the gorgeous round globes of her ass, very appreciative of the fact that she’d worn a thong. Damn, her skin felt good beneath his hands.

“Upstairs,” she murmured in between kisses. “Upstairs.” Of course that wasn’t as easy as doing it right down here, but if she wanted to be fucked in her bed, he’d fuck her in her bed. He didn’t have a problem with it. The thing was a queen-size, so he could just sprawl her out and appreciate every single inch of her.

Since his pants weren’t down to his knees yet, he was able to carry her up the stairs pretty easily. But she’d already started unfastening his jeans at the top of the staircase and was struggling to yank his zipper down. She must have gotten fed up with that, because she groaned, fumbled around with her dress, and managed to rid herself of it, dropping it right outside her bedroom door as they tumbled inside.

He barely made it to the bed and ended up kind of dropping her on the mattress and falling on top of her. He wasn’t on top for long, though, as she quickly reversed their positions and straddled him. It was sexy as fuck seeing her take charge like that. The girl he’d first fucked back in high school had been an eager learner, but over the course of their relationship, she’d become so fucking good in bed, better than any other girl he’d ever been with before. Sometimes, it’d felt like he’d been the one trying to keep up with her.

Clarke liked to grind her pussy on his crotch when she was on top of him, so she quickly pulled down on his jeans and his underwear to release his cock. He lifted his hips a bit to assist her in taking those two pieces of clothing off and then lay there pants-less, completely under her control as she rubbed and circled her groin against his. Her panties were wet, and he wondered how long they’d been that way. Since they’d started kissing? Since they’d gotten in the car? What if they’d been wet all through dinner tonight? What if she’d been sitting there thinking about doing this with him.

Fuck, he was so turned on.

Reaching out, he pushed one of the cups of her bra aside, committedly palming her breast, giving the heavy mound a good squeeze as she tossed her head back and moaned at the stimulation. If she hadn’t had her hands on his chest, holding him down, he would have tried to sit up and suck on her tits for a bit. Clarke had the most amazing rack he’d ever seen, and he always loved paying it the attention it deserved.

Her ass, too, though . . . her ass was also a thing of beauty, something he’d had the privilege of fucking once. He didn’t wanna neglect that part of her, so he snaked his free hand up her thigh and around her the back of her to give her a good squeeze. Again, she made sounds in response, even louder ones this time, and when he tried to press her down even harder onto him, she really starting grinding herself against him. It was just the underside of his cock that she was feeling now, as he was so hard that it was pressed flat up to his stomach. He wanted to get inside her so bad, but he was willing to let her do this her way. Clarke wasn’t the type of girl he tended to dominate. With her, there had always been more of a give and take.

She slid her hands up underneath his shirt, massaging his chest, his abs and his pectorals, and he groaned, frustrated to still be wearing anything at all. His whole body felt hot and charged, and he just wanted it out of the way, so he sat up a bit, scrambled out of it, and tossed it aside. That must have inspired her to reach behind her back and unhook her bra, too, because that flew to the floor next.

_Gotta feel ‘em_ , he thought as both his hands shot out to squeeze her breasts and tweak her nipples. They were pert and pebbled beneath his fingertips, and had it not been for her absolutely _drenched_ thong continuing to slide all over his cock, he may have flipped her back over so he could suck on them for a while.

The foreplay had been quick, but it’d been enough. They were both horny as hell and ready to cut to the chase, so he wasn’t surprised when she reached down, pushed her underwear aside, and cleared the way for him. When she grabbed his cock to hold it steady, it dawned on him that he’d get to fuck her without a condom this time. No risk of getting her pregnant or anything. When she slid down onto him, he felt like his eyes rolled back into his head. Because that feeling . . . that was _so_ fucking good.

“ _Oh_ . . .” she moaned, the long and drawn-out kind of moan that told him it was feeling just as amazing to her as it was to him. He watched in amazement as his cock slowly disappeared into her, so worked up by the sight of it. He loved seeing his cock in her, loved seeing her make room for him, because he wasn’t a small guy.

Like a fucking pro, she got right to work rolling and undulating her hips into him. As much as he enjoyed just jack-hammering his hips up into her when they did it like this, it felt even better to just lie beneath her and watch her ride him, watch her find the pace and rhythm she liked. She knew what she was doing. He’d taught her well.

“Fuck,” she swore, leaning forward a bit so her breasts were on his chest. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice even lower and throatier than it normally was. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, appreciating the gentle slope around her waist, the curve of her ass, and the softness of her thighs. If it was actually possible, she looked even better than she had in high school. And he hadn’t thought that was possible.

As much as he liked it when she leaned back so he could watch her tits bounce while she rode him, he loved it when she was plastered against him like this, too. Because he could kiss her, and he could whisper his praise into her ear, telling her how good she was, urging her to keep going. He was getting close.

She picked up her pace when he told her to cum for him, no longer rolling her hips then as much as she was just grinding feverishly. The little whimpers she kept letting out and the way she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip . . . little things like that almost made him shoot his load, but he managed to hold off, wanting her to get there first.

It didn’t take much longer for her whole body to start convulsing a bit as a _huge_ orgasm came over her. Her felt her stomach muscles shuddering against his own, felt her pussy spasming around his cock. Her breath came in labored pants as she slumped against him, letting the feeling wash over her body. Her _gorgeous_ body. The body he was still inside of.

He didn’t want to overdo it or anything, not when she’d just gotten rocked like this, but he needed to cum, too. So he thrust his hips up into her in the waning moments of her orgasm, just a few more times, and that was all it took for him to find his own release. His balls tightened up, and he groaned as he came straight up into her, no condom in the way this time, and he wondered if she could feel that. He felt her arousal coating every square inch of his cock, so could she feel his load inside her?

Neither one of them made any effort to move as they both came back down to earth. She rested on top of him, completely spent from her exertion, like she was barely able to move; so he just lay there with her and held her, lightly grazing his fingers up and down her spine as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

Coming home to Arkadia had definitely been worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

The first thing Clarke thought about when she woke up was Bellamy. Before she even opened her eyes, she thought back to last night, how they’d ended up doing it twice before falling asleep. He’d worked a little magic with his fingers before the second time, though, so she’d ended up having three orgasms. Bellamy was so different than Finn was in bed. Truthfully, Finn wasn’t _the worst_ by any means, but usually her maximum orgasm count with him was one. And it’d been pretty typical for him to get himself off and just completely neglect her satisfaction.

She rolled over onto her back, expecting to find Bellamy next to her, probably still asleep, but the left side of her bed was empty. Too empty.

“Bellamy?” she called quietly, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her chest. She didn’t hear any noise coming from the bathroom, so either he’d gone downstairs, or he’d left.

She didn’t have much time to contemplate it, because seconds after sitting up, her stomach started to churn. She felt _really_ nauseous, like all of Aurora’s casserole from last night was about to come back up. “Oh, god,” she said, clamping her hand down over her mouth. She shot out of bed and ran into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. Sliding to her knees, she’d just managed to lift the lid before throwing up.

It felt gross. It looked gross. It smelled gross. But there was no holding it back.

Just to make sure it was over, she stayed hunched over the toilet for a minute or so afterward. Her stomach roiled and rumbled, and she wasn’t sure if more stuff was going to come up. When she was fairly certain she was done, though, so flushed the toilet and moved back from it, feeling like a mess. Thank God Bellamy hadn’t still been asleep in that bed. She would have hated for him to see her like this right now. Not that he hadn’t ever held her hair back for her while she puked, because he had. But a hangover was different than morning sickness. This was gonna be consistent and consistently rough if this first bout of nausea was any indicator.

After brushing her teeth two times, swirling around some mouthwash, and splashing some water on her face, Clarke got dressed—nothing but a loose-fitting t-shirt and some pink shorts—and headed downstairs. Bellamy was indeed still there, already dressed, busy moving some scrambled eggs around a frying pan. “Hey,” he said. “Hope you’re hungry for breakfast, ‘cause I’m makin’ way too much.”

She glanced at the table and noticed he’d set out two plates, and both of them already had pancakes and sausage links on them. He’d probably cooked everything just fine, but nothing smelled particularly appetizing. Probably another pregnancy symptom, she assumed, because eggs, pancakes, and sausage were typically all foods she liked.

“Are you not hungry?” he asked when she failed to respond.

“No, it’s just . . .” Food of any sort right now sounded like a bad idea. “I feel kinda nauseous.”

His eyebrows arched a bit. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Although she’d been hoping to avoid morning sickness, she’d read that it could start in the sixth week, so she couldn’t say she was surprised. “I just threw up a little.”

He turned down the heat on the stove and declared, “That’s not gonna stop me from kissing you.” Then he leaned down and planted a quick peck right on her mouth.

“You’re a brave man,” she said. Even though she’d brushed her teeth and used the mouthwash, she still felt pretty gross. Knowing her luck, she’d be stuck with an awful taste in her mouth all day.

“I could make toast,” he offered. “I think toast is supposed to be good on an upset stomach.”

She tried to smile appreciatively, because god, he was being so adorable. What kind of girl didn’t love the thought of her man making her breakfast after a passionate night of lovemaking? She felt spoiled, and that was sweet of him to make her feel that way.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. Nothing was _wrong_ about what he was doing. Even if she couldn’t stomach the food right now, it was the thought that counted.

“No, something,” he said, seeing right through her. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

Could she? She really didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But in the back of her mind was this nagging voice reminding her that this wasn’t fair to him, that it wasn’t his responsibility to be there for her through all of this. “I just . . .” She hesitated for a moment, finding it difficult to actually say the words on the tip of her tongue. More than anything, she would have loved to be able to just sit down at the table with Bellamy right now, eat up, and maybe crawl back into bed and have some more fun with him today. But she couldn’t do that. Not when her day was likely going to consist of more nausea. “Bellamy, I don’t think we can keep doing this,” she told him sadly.

“Doing what?” he echoed.

“This. Sex. Not when I’m . . . pregnant.” She’d barely said that word out loud since she’d found out, because he was the only person she could say it to.

He turned off the heat on the stove burner altogether and frowned, a concerned look in his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked her.

“No, you were—you were great,” she quickly assured him. “I mean, obviously you know that you were great. It’s just that things are kinda complicated for me right now. I still haven’t even told Finn, and . . .” She trailed off, sighing shakily. “It’s just a lot for me to deal with.”

“So sleep with me,” he suggested, a slight smirk on his face, “get your mind off things.”

It didn’t work that way, though, nice as it would have been. Sleeping with him just gave her more to think about. “I feel like it’s just making everything more complicated,” she admitted.

His teasing grin fell, and he lowered his head and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” she said. If anything, it was hers. She was the one who’d gone ahead and slept with him last week, even though she’d known she might be pregnant with somebody else’s kid. She was the one who’d let it happen again last night, even though she had her reservations. “Being with you . . . I love it,” she told him. “You know I love it. It feels really good, and for a while, it makes me forget about everything else I’m dealing with.”

He lifted his head, smiling a bit, but it didn’t last. “But?” he prompted.

“But . . .” It just wasn’t as simple as it’d been back in high school. They weren’t those same people anymore. “Then the reality comes crashing back in,” she said sadly, “and the reality is . . . I need to think about this baby right now. That’s just what I have to do.”

To his credit, Bellamy wasn’t an ass about anything. He thought about that for a moment, then nodded and said, “I understand.”

“You do?” Honestly, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d been mad at her for, like, leading him on or something.

“Well, as much as I can, yeah,” he said. “I don’t wanna make things even more confusing for you. But . . .” Reaching out, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t know how I’m gonna stay away from you, either.”

“Well, you don’t have to stay away,” she told him. “It’s a small town. We know a lot of the same people. We’re gonna see each other.” They needed to learn how to see each other without . . . seeing _all_ of each other.

“Look but don’t touch, huh?” He winced. “Sounds like torture.”

It probably would be, but she felt like it was for the best. “Maybe we just need to be friends,” she said. “Nothing more.”

His lips pressed into a tight smile, and he noted, “I’ve never been just friends with you before.”

Very true. They’d gone straight from casual acquaintances at school to fuck buddies in a matter of minutes. “First time for everything,” she said, feeling like it was definitely possible to still be close to Bellamy without being . . . intimate. It wouldn’t be easy, but it could be done.

Even though this clearly wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped to have this morning, he sighed and said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, hoping things wouldn’t be too awkward between them. “Are you mad?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. “It sucks, but . . . I don’t have to like it; but I do respect it.”

Oh, that was good to hear. He didn’t hate her, wasn’t going to resent her for deciding that this was how it had to be. Not that she’d expected him to. No, he wouldn’t resent her for this.

“But as a friend,” he said, “I just wanna let you know you were amazing last night.”

She smiled, feeling a different sensation than nausea in her stomach now. Butterflies.

“And that’s all I’ll say about that,” he finished, returning his attention to the eggs he’d scrambled up. He picked up the spatula, moved them around the frying pan a bit more, and then headed over to the kitchen table to scoop some onto each plate. She decided she’d try to eat a couple bites of everything he’d made, because she really did appreciate it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy felt like crap when he got home later that morning. He’d pulled some muscle in his back carrying Clarke upstairs last night, and this morning . . . well, this morning just hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped it would.

“O?” he called as he walked in the door. Her car was in the driveway, so he figured she was home.

“In here!” she called from the laundry room.

He took off his shoes and headed in that direction, amused to find his sister standing before the washing machine, forcefully trying to shove her clothes into it. “Holy shit,” he swore, “that’s a lot of laundry.”

“Mom says I can do it here, but I have to do it myself.”

“Oh, the horror.”

“Shut up,” Octavia snapped, “she does your laundry.” With one more shove, she managed to smoosh all her clothes in the washer down far enough, so she quickly dumped in some soap, closed the lid, and turned it on to the hour mark. “Where the hell were you last night?” she then asked, whirling around. “Out getting drunk or getting laid?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and replied, “That’s none of your business.”

“Getting laid then,” she deduced. “My money’s on Clarke.”

Dammit, she just had that knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made it pointless to even try to deny it.

“You guys should just get back together and stop pretending it’s not inevitable,” she suggested. “Because it is.”

“No, it’s not,” he muttered. The first night they’d hung out together, it’d kind of felt that way, but he really did want to respect whatever decisions she was making right now. He didn’t know anything about her relationship with this Finn guy, how serious it had been or what was going to become of it now. That guy was the father of her child, and he felt like he had to give her space to figure out what that meant for her future.

“Whatever you say, Bell,” Octavia said skeptically. She ambled towards him and said, “Alright, if we’re done talking about you for, like, a second . . . don’t freak out, okay, but I have a date tonight.”

He stiffened. “With who?”

“Just this guy I met working out the other day. You don’t know him.”

A guy she met working out the other day? How well did she even know him then? “He’s in college?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just a little bit older than me.”

So like nineteen or twenty then, he assumed. That wasn’t so bad.

“He’s _so_ hot, and he was so nice,” she raved. “We’re going out for dinner and a movie. Nothing scandalous, so don’t make a big deal out of it. Alright?”

Oh, he wanted to make a big deal out of it. He wanted to know the guy’s name, age, and address so he could do a legitimate background check on him. He wanted to insist that she let him meet the guy first so he could give her his opinion. But he didn’t want to be overbearing to the point where she resented him being back in Arkadia, so he reluctantly agreed, “Alright,” and hoped she’d be smart with whoever he was. To his knowledge, his sister was still a virgin, but she wasn’t gonna stay that way forever. “When do I get to meet him?” he wanted to know.

“Whenever I feel like it,” she declared, sliding past him as she walked off in the direction of her room.

_Dammit_ , he thought. Knowing Octavia, she’d never feel like it. She’d had one serious boyfriend in high school named Ilian, and neither he nor his mom had even known about that kid until she’d been five months into dating him. At least, he supposed, she was being upfront about this new guy.

It was kind of frustrating not being able to keep a closer eye on her, but he knew he had to start treating her more like an adult or else risk pissing her off and alienating her from him. She was making decisions on her own, and just like the decisions Clarke was making . . . he had to respect them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After waking up feeling nauseous for two mornings in a row, Clarke was majorly relieved to wake up the morning after that feeling perfectly fine. She’d slept well, she actually felt hungry, and when Harper texted her and Raven and asked them to hang out, she was more than up for it. They ended up meeting Harper at the on-campus rec center, where she spent a lot of her time in the dance studio, choreographing and practicing. Harper was a beautiful dancer and one of the few dance majors at Arkadia State College. Clarke loved watching her perform, because she could do all the fancy ballet stuff and breathtaking contemporary, and she had some flashy hip hop skills, too.

Clarke and Raven sat on the floor watching as Harper showed them a lyrical routine she’d been working on to John Legend’s “All of Me,” and when it was over, Raven clapped her hands excitedly and exclaimed, “Yay! That was so pretty!”

“Yeah, that was really good, Harper,” Clarke said, wishing she had the ability to dance like that. Pom dancing was pretty much the only thing she could do, and even that . . . it’d been a while. Raven could probably still put on a cheerleading uniform and light it up at a pep rally, but for Clarke, it’d been five years.

“Thanks, you guys,” Harper said, somehow sounding and looking as though she weren’t even winded. “Monty inspired me to choreograph that.”

“It _did_ seem very romantic,” Raven commented.

“Yeah, very,” Clarke agreed. Harper and Monty were such a cute couple. They’d met last year when Harper had accidentally rear-ended his car in the commuter parking lot. Somehow, that had resulted in a date, and they’d been inseparable ever since.

“Wanna see the kind of dance I would dedicate to Murphy?” Raven said, shooting to her feet. She and Harper switched places, and Raven said, “Play a slutty song.”

Harper quickly found one on her playlist, something by Rhianna, most likely, and Raven started doing these overtly-sexual moves, like she was mimicking a stripper or something. Lots of grabbing her own breasts and rubbing her inner thigh. It was so exaggerated that it looked more hilarious than it did slutty.

“Do you actually give him lap-dances and stuff?” Harper said through laughs.

Raven grinned mischievously. “When he deserves them.” Then she bent over, hands on her knees, and twerked her butt a few times.

“How about you, Clarke?” Harper asked.

“No, I don’t give Murphy lap-dances,” she joked.

Harper rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. How would you dance for Bellamy?”

Raven stopped moving and snorted. “Horizontal mambo comes to mind.”

“He hasn’t seen me dance since I was a sophomore in high school,” Clarke reminded them. She hadn’t danced for Bellamy since he came back, and she wasn’t going to now because . . . because now they were just friends. She hadn’t told either of these girls that she’d slept with him again the other night, and she probably wasn’t going to. They’d just keep trying to convince her to get back together with him.

“Oh, I can show you how you’d dance for him,” Raven said. “Harper, come here.”

Harper popped back up to her feet and pranced out onto the middle of the dance floor with Raven.

“See, it’d be all _sultry_ , you know?” Raven said, grabbing her friend’s hips. “All seductive.” She rolled her whole body up into Harper’s, once again exaggerating the moves. Then she whirled around and did this big, dramatic hair flip and moaned.

“Ooh, am I Bellamy in this scenario?” Harper said, moving in close behind Raven. They grinded against each other, just like they did at parties, and if they hadn’t been her closet friends, Clarke may have actually been turned on by the sight.

“Yeah, dance with me baby,” Raven said, purposefully lowering her voice to make it sound huskier, mimicking Bellamy.

“You guys . . .” Clarke couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Whatever. We are not like that.”

“It’s a sexy dance,” Raven declared, moving her hips from side to side. “‘cause you and Bellamy have sexy times.”

_We sure do_ , Clarke thought. _Or . . . did. We sure_ did.

“This is kind of getting hot right now,” Harper said, holding onto Raven’s hips.

“I know, right?” Raven agreed, laughing.

Clarke smiled and rolled her eyes at their playfulness. There were worse things, she supposed, than being teased about be one half of a hot relationship. It wasn’t like she and Bellamy had ever _tried_ to be so sexual. It’d just always felt so natural.

****

_Even though the biology test wasn’t until the end of the week, Clarke still sat up in bed that night, re-reading the chapter. Why not, right? Wasn’t like she had anything better to do._

_In the middle of a particularly detailed and kind of gross section of the chapter about the reproductive system, Clarke heard something hit her window. Sounded like a small rock or something, so she didn’t pay much attention to it. However, a few seconds after she’d resumed reading, she heard it again. She had her curtains closed, so she couldn’t see what was hitting her window, but she kept hearing it every few seconds._

_Setting aside her textbook, she got out of bed walked over to her bay window, slowly pulling the curtains back. It was dark outside, but there was an automatic light on their garage that was enough to illuminate Bellamy standing out in the driveway. He had a couple rocks in his hand but stopped throwing them when he saw her looking out._

Bellamy? _she thought, surprised to see him there. What did he want? The same thing all guys his age wanted?_

_Even though part of her wanted to just close her curtains back up again and ignore him, act like his presence there had no effect on her whatsoever, she ended up venturing downstairs to let him in. “I’m really glad that was the right window,” he said as they crept up the stairs._

_“Shh,” she whispered. “My parents are asleep.” If one of them just so happened to walk out of their bedroom right now and see her sneaking a boy up to hers, she’d have some major explaining to do._

_They quickly scurried along the upstairs balcony to her room, and after Clarke had shut the door and stuffed a few shirts beneath it to try to muffle any conversation, she turned to him and asked, “What’re you doing here?”_

_“I wanted to see you,” he said, looking down at the textbook on her bed. That made her feel like such a dork that she’d been studying before he showed up, so she quickly closed it and set it on her desk._

_“You saw me in school today,” she pointed out, “didn’t say anything there.” In fact, he hadn’t said anything for the past couple of days._

_“You were avoiding me,” he said._

_Hell yes, she’d been avoiding him. Ever since she’d overheard him talking to Miller, she just worried that . . . that he’d be annoyed if she tried to flirt with him or even talk to him. “I was just trying to give you space,” she said. “I mean, I don’t wanna be clingy. Like Bree.” The homecoming queen had_ of course _been all over Bellamy, practically sitting on his lap at their lunch table and always scampering along with him in the hall during passing periods. “What’s going on with you two anyway?” she asked him. “Is she your girlfriend?”_

_“No.”_

_“No?” Clarke wasn’t sure whether to believe that or not. “I only ask because I know_ I’m _not your girlfriend, either. You made that perfectly clear.”_

_Immediately, he looked like he felt bad about that. “Clarke--”_

_“Look, it’s okay,” she cut him off. “When we first started this thing, it was—it was just sex. And it’s okay if that’s all it ever was. I wasn’t expecting more.” Sure, it would have been nice to have a boyfriend, especially as one as good-looking and fun as Bellamy. But if that wasn’t in the cards for her, then so be it. “I wanted to lose my virginity, and I did,” she said. “I lost it to you.” She sighed deeply. For the rest of her life, there would be no reversing that fact. It wasn’t like she regretted it or anything, but . . . maybe she should have waited. What if someone else came along in a couple months who_ did _want to date her? Then she’d really be kicking herself for giving it up so soon._

_Bellamy’s eyes dropped from hers, and he almost looked . . . ashamed. Clarke wasn’t sure she’d ever seen that expression on his face before. Maybe he regretted agreeing to this whole thing in the first place._

_“I just . . . I wish you’d told me sooner,” she said, not aiming to make him feel bad, but rather to just let him know how she was feeling and why she’d been avoiding him. “I wish we hadn’t done it again. Just one and done. That would’ve been better.” She really couldn’t deny that she’d started to have some feelings for Bellamy these past couple weeks, feelings that extended beyond the physical. When emotions got involved, everything got harder. “But it’s fine,” she insisted, determined to not lose sleep over it. “I can get over it.”_

_He shook his head solemnly and said, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”_

_“Well, you did.”_

_“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He sighed, shifting his weight from side to side, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m not really good at this,” he admitted._

_“Good at what?” she asked._

_“This. The talking thing.”_

_“Really?” She didn’t believe that for a second. “Because when I’m on the sideline, I hear you in the huddle with all your teammates, Bellamy. You give these rousing speeches. Seems like you talk just fine.”_

_“No, that’s different,” he said. “I can find the words to pump them up and get their heads in the game. That’s easy. But talkin’ about feelings and shit . . .” He made a face. “I suck at that.”_

_“Feelings?” she echoed. The word struck a chord. “You feel feelings?” She wasn’t trying to make him sound like a sociopath or anything, so she quietly added, “For me?”_

_A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he took a few steps towards her. “I like you,” he said._

_“You like a lot of girls,” she reminded him._

_“Yeah, but you’re different.”_

_She swore she stopped breathing for a moment, because . . . was she really hearing this?_

_“I don’t know what it is, but . . . I’m having a lot of fun with you,” he continued. “More fun than I’ve had in a long time.”_

_So was she, but . . . could she believe him? “I must be getting good at sex then,” she concluded._

_“You are. But it’s not just that.” His eyes stared into hers hard, and instead of looking all flirtatious like he normally did, he actually looked serious. “I like_ you, _Clarke, and not just your body,” he told her. “I like your smile. I think it’s sweet.”_

_How could she help but smile when he said that?_

_“I like hearing you cheer for me at the games. I even liked taking care of you the other night when you were drunk,” he went on. “I like kissing you.”_

_Well, that worked out well then, didn’t it? Because she liked all those things, too. “Yeah, but you’ve probably been kissing other girls,” she said, trying to stay logical and not just turn into a puddle of goo now that he was saying this._

_“No, I haven’t, not since homecoming,” he revealed. “And even then . . . I kinda wished I was kissing you.”_

_Try as she might not to read too far into that . . . that had to mean_ something, _right? If he hadn’t hooked up with anyone else since hooking up with her, maybe he was struggling to get her off his mind just as she was struggling to get him off hers? “What’re you saying?” she asked him._

_His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts before he actually said them out loud. “Look, I don’t—I don’t usually date,” he said. “And there’s a reason for it, you know? I gotta stay focused on football. That’s my whole ticket to any kind of future.”_

_It really was, wasn’t it? Bellamy didn’t have stellar grades, nor did he and his family have money to pay for college. She nodded, respecting the fact that his sport was so important to him. It had to be._

_“I’m not gonna stay here forever,” he told her. “I’m goin’ to college, gettin’ out of this town. And I don’t know where I’m gonna end up. But it’s not gonna be here.”_

_She wasn’t really sure where she was going to end up, either, but she was still pretty young. She had a little more time than he did to figure it out. “So you don’t commit to anyone because it’s not gonna last?” she summarized._

_“Yeah,” he confirmed. “And I didn’t think you’d wanna get involved in something like that.”_

_“Bellamy . . . I’m sixteen,” she reminded him. “I’m a sophomore in high school. I’m not exactly looking to settle down for the rest of my life.”_

_“You’re not?”_

_“No. I wanna go to college and live my life, too,” she said. “Contrary to what you might think, not every girl’s main ambition is to get married and pop out a couple kids.”_

_He laughed a little. He had a nice smile._

_“I like you, too, a lot,” she told him, “but if we were gonna keep doing this, I’d wanna do it exclusively.” She wasn’t the type of girl who was willing to share a guy with other people. That was pretty gross, and she had more respect for herself than that. “And if that’s not something you wanna do, then that’s fine. We can just cut our losses, and I’ll be okay with it.”_

_“Well, what if it_ is _something I wanna do?” he said, moving closer to her still. “Exclusively.”_

_Exclu-- Her mind choked on the word. He wanted to just sleep with her? And only her? Even though she still lacked experience and was nowhere near as skilled as he was? “Are you serious?” she said, shocked._

_“Yeah.” He tucked her hair behind her ear for her, grazing his palm against her cheek as he did so. “I’m not saying we have to slap a label on it or define it for anyone else. We can just keep having fun. For however long it lasts.”_

_The prospect of having more fun with Bellamy was . . . thrilling. She couldn’t deny it. And she wasn’t expecting some huge, epic love story, because she totally understood why someone as athletic and talented as him had to leave this town someday. If Bellamy got into a good college, maybe he could even make it to the NFL. Anything was possible, and she wasn’t going to be the type of girl to hold him back._

_“I don’t know what to say,” she confessed, a bit caught off guard. Not only had she not expected him to show up at her house tonight, but she hadn’t expected . . . this. She’d just assumed that their little tryst would become a short chapter in his anthology of sexual partners, and it’d forever be the first chapter of her much smaller book._

_“I can’t promise you tomorrow,” he reiterated. “But I can give you now. If you’re still interested.”_

_She swore she could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. She was always so hyper-aware of her body around him. But what if he had given this same speech to Bree once? What if she couldn’t trust him?_

_To his credit, Bellamy didn’t pressure her to make up her mind right then and there. He told her to think about it and left the room, and she sat there in her bay window, peeking out the curtain to watch him walk down the driveway to his truck, parked on the street. He wasn’t exactly walking fast, so maybe he didn’t really wanna go. And maybe that thud-thud-thud of her heart was letting her know she wasn’t ready to let him leave._

_Springing to her feet, she shot out of her bedroom and raced towards the stairs. She ran down them almost dangerously and dashed through the living room and out the front door. She heard him shut the door to his truck, so she ran towards it faster, needing to stop him before he drove off._

_He had the key in the ignition but hadn’t yet turned the truck on when she opened the passenger’s side door. “Clarke?” was all he had time to say before she climbed inside and scrambled over the seat and over the gearshift, onto his lap._

_She kissed him more fervently than she’d ever kissed anyone before, and he kissed her back with an equal intensity. Her hands were practically desperate to feel him as she grabbed at his arms, his shoulders, and balled his t-shirt into her fists. His hands, too, roamed over her, sliding first up the back of her shirt, then down the elastic waistband of her shorts. These damn clothes were in the way, but there was no space in there to take them off._

_“I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered frenetically against his mouth as she slipped her hands down in between them to unfasten his jeans._

_“You’re doing fine,” he told her._

_She managed to get his pants down far enough that his cock sprang free, already hard and waiting for attention. She gave it a few strokes, then groaned frustratedly when she realized they didn’t have any protection._

_Bellamy must have been reading her mind or something, because he reached over into his glove compartment and pulled out a condom. In seconds, he’d torn open the package and was sliding it on, and Clarke lifted her hips up a bit so she could push her shorts farther down. It wasn’t going to work to keep them on, so she tried to stand as much as she could to step out of them. The truck was cramped, and she was clumsy, but she finally did get them off, and her panties were easy to push aside._

_Settling back onto his lap again, she sank down atop him, barely giving herself any time to adjust to the feel of him before she instinctively started bouncing up and down, trying her best to ride him. It was still a little tight, and they probably could have used some lube, but the more she moved, the better it felt. She felt herself getting wetter and wetter down there while they were going at it, and the riding became easier. When he cupped her ass and started to help guide her hips up and down, that helped, too. She kept bouncing, enjoying the newness of the position, of feeling like she could control the pace this time._

_“Fuck,” he grunted, watching her intently. She had to close her eyes, because the heat of his gaze made her feel like she was turning into Jello._

_The knowledge that they were sitting out on the street in the driver’s seat of his truck remained in the back of her mind while their bodies slid together. The additional fear that, at any point, one or both of her parents could look outside and see this lingered there, too. But she didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, not until she felt his body tense up and he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as he came. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t had an orgasm this time. It’d just been a quick, fast and furious type of fuck, and she was more than happy to put in the work and be the one to get_ him _there, this time._

_His breath was coming in ragged pants when she lifted her hips and let him slide out of her. She felt like her pussy was dripping, and more than anything, she would have loved to just lie down and have him eat her out right now. But that kind of thing was more well-suited for a bed, not for a truck. Besides, she_ really _didn’t want to push their luck and run the risk of getting caught here. All it would take was for one car to drive by and notice these steamed up windows to know_ exactly _what had been going on._

_Climbing over into the passenger’s seat, she retrieved her shorts and quickly pulled them back on. “I’m still interested,” she told him, leaning across the seats to give him a kiss. For once, he seemed almost too stunned to kiss her back._

_She hopped out of the car, shut the door, and ran back towards her house, flashing him an excited smile over her shoulder as she went._

****

As she was leaving the rec center with her friends, Clarke walked by the gym, where they had all those weights and ellipticals and treadmills she’d never found appealing, and someone familiar caught her eye. There, with her hair up in a long, dark ponytail and wearing a sports bra that really showed off her abs, was none other than Bellamy’s sister. Clarke ran into Octavia around town from time to time, but seeing her on campus was a bit head-spinning. That was no longer the same annoying seventh grader she used to know; that was a full-blown adult who wanted everyone to know that she was an adult now.

While Raven and Harper continued walking, Clarke hung back, being nosy because she couldn’t help but notice that Octavia was talking to a guy. A big, bulky guy with tattoos on his chocolate skin and a shaved head. He looked like a personal trainer or something. There was no way he was a freshman like her.

Things got even more interesting when Octavia grabbed that guy by his t-shirt, pulled him closer to her, and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He slid his hands around her sides and smoothed them up and down her back, kissing her deeply, like she was his girlfriend or something.

“Clarke!” Raven called from down the hall. “You coming?”

She scurried to catch up with her friends, but she walked behind both of them through the parking lot, took out her phone, and sent Bellamy a quick text that read, _Hey. Just so you know, Octavia’s in the gym making out with a way older guy_. She wasn’t trying to rat the girl out or anything, but . . . she knew how protective Bellamy was, and she didn’t very well feel like she could _not_ tell him.

_Way older?_ he texted back a few seconds later. Then came another message: _Thanks for letting me know._

Keeping her eyes on her screen, she followed along behind Raven and Harper while they babbled about their boyfriends. _That’s what friends are for, right?_ she typed out and sent to him. It probably wasn’t any of her business who Octavia was dating or hooking up with now, and maybe it wasn’t even any of his. But she felt better with him knowing. Octavia was just a young girl, after all, and sometimes young people didn’t make the best decisions. Hell, she was proof of that.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

Bellamy probably wouldn’t have been going to Eligius quite as much if it wasn’t for the fact that Clarke was working there. She was a hell of a distraction, no doubt about that, mostly distracting him from the fact that he was still technically freeloading off his mom and had yet to secure a job anywhere in town. He liked spending time with her, though. Even if it was just as friends.

“So how much did you manage to find out?” she asked him one afternoon while he sat up at the bar.

“Oh, a lot, actually. I should be a private investigator or something. I’ve got skills,” he boasted.

“Really?”

“No. I did go talk to Octavia’s roommate, though. Girl named Fox. I don’t know how they ever got assigned to room together. Fox is quiet, calm, nice. Everything Octavia’s not. Fox was _studying_ when I showed up.”

“Studying in college. A novel concept,” Clarke said with a sarcastic gasp. “So, what does the Fox say?”

“Funny. She told me the guy’s name is Lincoln.”

“Lincoln?” she echoed. “Like the car?”

“Or the president.” Sounded like kind of a douchebag name to him, but at least it wasn’t something weird like Ilian. “Octavia’s known him for a couple weeks. She met him at the rec center,” he relayed to Clarke. “He works there. Apparently they talked, got to know each other, and then he asked her out the other night.”

“And this Fox girl just told you everything willingly?” Clarke said skeptically.

“Well, I laid on the charm, as I’m known to do.”

She laughed a little and shook her head.

“Anyway, Fox wasn’t sure what he’s like,” Bellamy went on, well aware that he was monopolizing all of Clarke’s time and that the other waitress on duty was pretty much attending to everybody else but him. “But she said he’s definitely older. In his twenties.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure, he looks like he’s in his twenties,” Clarke confirmed.

“What do you think, twenty-three, twenty-four?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Yeah, he could definitely be your age.”

“Great.” That meant she was dating someone who was probably a lot more experienced and expected a lot more. Fan-fucking-tastic. “Well, Fox said he seemed nice, but that could all be an act, you know? That’s why I’m gonna crash their second date.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna find out where they’re goin’, and I’m gonna _conveniently_ show up there, too.” He smirked, already envisioning his master plan coming to life. “Then I can put the fear of God in his eyes, right where it belongs.”

“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but he’s bigger than you,” Clarke informed him.

He was? Bellamy glanced down at his arms, flexing for a moment. “I could still take him, though, right?”

Clarke cringed, giving him a doubtful look.

“No, I could still take him,” he decided. He didn’t care if this guy was the Hulk himself. He wouldn’t hesitate to fight him if he did anything to hurt or pressure Octavia.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Clarke said.

Hopefully, if luck prevailed, Octavia would just lose interest in this guy and come to a dramatic realization that she was asexual or something. Problem solved.

A man down at the other end of the bar called Clarke over to refill his glass, so she went and did that, then came right back over to him. He felt like he’d been talking about himself since he’d come in, so he shifted the focus to her and asked, “What about you, though? What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Working. Classes. Had dinner at my mom’s the other night. Pretty mundane stuff.”

“Even with . . .” He trailed off, his eyes glancing down at her stomach.

“Yeah, even with that,” she said. She looked on either side of her, as if to make sure no one was close enough to overhear, then leaned against the counter and lowered her voice. “I went to my first appointment the other day.”

“Oh, yeah?” He hated to think of her doing that by herself, but once she told her mom, then her mom would probably accompany her. “How’d that go?”

“It was kinda annoying, actually,” she said. “They told me I was gonna have an ultrasound, but when I got there, they were like, ‘Oh, no, today you’ll just sit down with a doctor and talk through some things. We’ll have to schedule your ultrasound for your eighth week.’” She rolled her eyes, clearly still perturbed about it. “And I have to go to some medical imaging center for it.”

“Next week?”

“Yep. Nine more days.” She let out a heavy exhale. “I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time, though. They took some blood to do all the blood work stuff, and then they had me pee in a cup to run all these tests.”

“What kinds of tests?”

“I don’t know, I guess checking to see if I have a bladder infection or, like, high levels of glucose or something.” She shrugged. “And then they gave me this list of medicines that are okay to take, and medicines that aren’t okay. And they recommended these prenatal vitamins. They’re gummies, so I’m pretty happy about that.” She smiled.

_Cute_ , he thought, picturing Clarke popping gummy vitamins every morning instead of the regular pill kind.

“What else did they say?” she said to herself. “Oh, limit caffeine and soda, no alcohol, blah, blah, blah . . .”

No alcohol would have sucked. He couldn’t have done that. “How much weight you gonna gain?” he asked, wondering when she would start to show. So far, she was still pretty tiny. Curvy, but tiny.

“They said anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five pounds is healthy,” she replied. “But when they weighed me, I was down four pounds.”

“What? Why?” He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Just because my normal diet’s all out of whack. With the nausea and everything,” she explained. “They said it’s normal.”

He nodded slowly, hoping it was. “Has that gotten any better?” he asked her.

“It’s just sporadic. I’m getting used to it.”

Man, being pregnant sounded like it sucked. No alcohol, throwing up in the morning . . . and she was still just starting out. He faintly recalled his mother complaining about a lot of back pain when she’d been pregnant with Octavia. “You’re pretty badass, you know that, Clarke?” he said, grinning at her.

“Thanks for saying that.”

He was about to say more, to convince her that it was true, because hell, any woman who had a kid was strong and brave as fuck, but he didn’t get the chance when she looked over his shoulder. Her whole face paled, and she gasped, “Oh my god.”

“What?” He looked over his shoulder as two guys walked in. One had short dark hair, the other had longer dark hair. That one looked to the bar and made eye contact with Clarke right away. “Who’s that?” Bellamy asked her.

She didn’t say anything.

“Is that him?”

The corners of her mouth drooped downward, and she nodded mutely.

_Oh, shit_ , he thought, taking another drink. She probably would have taken one, too, if she could have.

Both those guys approached the bar, and the long-haired one—Finn, he recalled—said, “Clarke? Are you _working_ here now?”

She barely even looked at him. Instead, she pretended to be all busy wiping off a glass that was already clean. “Yeah,” she mumbled in response.

“Huh. Didn’t see that coming.” Finn sat down on the empty stool next to Bellamy and told his friend, “Atom, go get a table, man.”

The shorter-haired guy nodded and wandered off. Part of Bellamy wished Finn would go with him, but the other part was curious to get a read on the guy.

“So how long you been working here?” Finn asked her.

“Not long,” she replied. It was amazing how entire tone had just . . . shifted.

“Didn’t think so.” He looked over at Bellamy, narrowing his eyes, and asked, “Who’s this? He looks familiar.”

_Damn right I do_ , Bellamy thought, tightening his hands around his glass. That must have meant Clarke had shown this guy pictures of him. Or better yet, maybe she’d done some sketches of him over the years.

“Finn, this is Bellamy,” Clarke introduced.

“Ah, the famous Bellamy. About time I meet him,” Finn said. “I heard a lot about you, you know. Although not from her. She was pretty tight-lipped. But Raven and everybody told me all about how close the two of you used to be.”

Bellamy cast a quick glance at Clarke. She looked . . . embarrassed.

“Let me guess,” Finn said. “You found out she and I broke up, figured you’d swoop back in and reclaim what’s yours?”

Oh, that pissed him the hell off, hearing somebody talk about Clarke like she was property or something. “She doesn’t belong to anyone,” he growled.

“No, of course not,” Finn agreed. “You know what I mean, though.”

No, he really didn’t.

“Well, anyway, good to meet you,” Finn said as he stood up. Then he actually had the audacity to tell Clarke, “I’ll take a beer whenever you can.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. What a fucking tool. What the fuck had Clarke ever seen in him? “ _That’s_ your ex-boyfriend?” he said in disbelief once Finn had gone away. “Why the hell did you waste any time on him?”

“He wasn’t always a jerk,” she said. “Sometimes he could be really sweet. But he’s been an ass lately, ever since I asked him to move in with me.”

“You asked him to move in?” No, he couldn’t picture Finn cozying up in that beach house with Clarke. That wouldn’t work.

“Yeah, at the start of the summer,” she said. “But he wasn’t ready for that, said it made things too official. That’s why we ended up calling it quits, because he didn’t wanna be so tied down.” She laughed sadly, tears in her eyes. “Ironic, isn’t it? Now he’s gonna be.” She turned around, wiping her eyes as she headed back into the employee breakroom. He wondered if she might sit down back there and cry, back where the father of her child couldn’t see her.

He looked back over his shoulder again, watching as Finn and his friend threw sugar packets at each other across their table. They looked like losers, so it was really hard to believe that one of them was gonna have a kid.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke sat through her classes the next day in a bit of a daze. Seeing Finn at the bar, talking to him for only minutes . . . it’d been a lot. She’d lain awake for hours last night, trying to figure out how on earth she was going to tell him about the baby. Hopefully he’d at least have a mature reaction, even if it wasn’t a completely positive one.

When she left Professor Jaha’s class, she felt dead on her feet, like she could just go home and nap for a while. Except she couldn’t, because she still had one more class to go to. But at least she wasn’t scheduled to work today. Although she didn’t hate the bar by any means, being on her feet for so many hours at a time hurt like hell, and it would have hurt even if she _hadn’t_ been pregnant.

As she was walking to her next class, she felt someone come up behind her. “Hey, you,” Niylah said, brushing against her arm.

“Hey.” Niylah looked prettier than ever, her long blonde hair a mix of waves and braids. She was one of those girls who didn’t have to wear any makeup at all, too, which Clarke seriously envied.

Niylah must have been impressed by her appearance, too, because she raved, “You look absolutely gorgeous. That must mean you dumped your boyfriend.”

“I did,” Clarke admitted. She and Niylah had a running joke that she was always at her hottest when she wasn’t with Finn. “Well, actually, we dumped each other. It was a mutual thing, but yeah, we’re definitely in one of the off periods of our on-and-off relationship.”

“Well, I like those periods, because that’s when I get to console you.” Niylah smiled.

Usually, she enjoyed getting consoled by Niylah. It involved a lot of oral sex and once in a while even a strap-on. But there was just no way she could sleep with Niylah right now, not only because of the baby, but also because of . . . well, Bellamy. “There’s a lot more going on this time,” she said vaguely. “I don’t think I’m up for any casual sex.”

Niylah pouted, but she didn’t push it any farther. “Well, if you change your mind,” she said, “you know where to find me.” She blew Clarke a kiss and veered off in the other direction.

Clarke sighed. Hooking up with Niylah would have been simple, and it probably would have made her feel better. For a little while, at least. But it wasn’t a long-term fix for her problems. Never had been.

That night, she lay in bed, her phone in her hand as she agonized about whether or not she should text Finn. The ultrasound was only a week away now, and it was _possible_ he’d want to be there for that. But it was also possible he’d leave her to fend for herself, which scared the hell out of her.

She typed out a brief text saying she needed to talk to him tomorrow, but then she deleted it. So she typed out another, one that simply said, _We need to talk_. But that sounded so foreboding that he’d probably just ignore it, so she didn’t send that, either. Ultimately, she just set her phone on her nightstand, rolled over onto her side, and pulled the blankets up all the way over her head. She really wished she knew what she was doing, but she just didn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Upon waking up in the morning, Clarke tried some positive thinking strategies. She told herself that it was a new day. Because it was. Every day was a new day, and every day had the potential to be better than the last day. Or something like that. She’d slept a little better, and she wasn’t waking up to a stomach that was doing backflips, so perhaps that was a good sign.

She got in the shower, taking a long time with her shampoo, hoping to rinse off some of the negativity from the past couple days and feel refreshed when she got out of there. Sometimes, her mind started to wander when she was in the shower or the bathtub, and this time was no different. In fact, her mind ventured into full-on fantasy territory when she looked down and imagined Bellamy’s strong arms wrapping around her waist, his large hands splaying against her stomach. For a split second or two, she was able to pretend that he was standing behind her as that warm water fell on both of them, that he was leaning down to murmur in her ear, “ _Morning, Princess_.”

Unfortunately, the fantasy faded all too quickly, and she remembered that she was actually in that shower alone, that Bellamy wasn’t even there right now, and that she had no reason to feel sorry for herself, because she was the one who’d championed this whole ‘just friends’ idea. It was the right thing to do.

In the midst of toweling off her wet hair, her phone rang. She ran back into the bedroom to answer it, and coincidentally enough, the very man she’d just been thinking about was the one calling. “Hey,” she said, wondering if he could just tell that he’d been on her mind.

“Hey,” he returned. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I just got out of the shower.” She waited for him to say something else, but when he didn’t, she prompted, “Bellamy?”

“Just give me a minute,” he said. “I’m picturing it.”

“Stop.” Who was she kidding, though? She loved that the thought of her in the shower turned him on. “What’s up?”

“Oh, you know, I’m just about to crash Octavia’s second date with Lincoln today,” he revealed.

“Are you serious? You’re actually doing that?”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though, she knows. I convinced her to invite me along.”

How on earth had he managed that? Bribery or something?

“What do you think I should wear, a short-sleeved shirt or a long-sleeved one?” he asked. “What’s more intimidating?”

“Long-sleeved,” she replied. “Roll it up to your elbows. That makes it look like you mean business.”

“Black?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Thanks for the input.”

“Yeah, no problem.” She wondered if that was the only reason why he’d called, or if perhaps he’d just felt like talking to her. “Do you want me to tag along,” she offered, “be your backup?” It wasn’t like she had anything better to do today, and if she just stayed home, she’d end up wallowing, and then this brand new day wouldn’t be any better than the last two had been.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll come get you at noon, alright?”

“Alright. See you then.” She ended the call, not quite sure if this was a good idea. On the one hand, it had the potential of feeling like a double date, but then again, what guy would go on a double date with his little sister? No, she was just being friendly. Because they were _friends_ now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Pizza place,” Bellamy grumbled, looking around the restaurant. “How romantic.”

“Oh, come on, where was our first date? A parking lot party?” Clarke reminded him.

“But this is their second one. He should step it up or something.” Bellamy shook his head, not impressed. Sure, this place had good pizza, but there were a couple other nicer restaurants in Arkadia. On the bright side, though, this place was cheap, which was good, ‘cause he only had about ten bucks in his wallet, and he was paying for Clarke, too.

“Are you determined to hate the guy,” she asked, “or are you willing to have an open mind?”

“I don’t know yet.” He stretched his arm out over the back of their booth, in the process putting it around her.

“Bellamy,” she said.

“What?”

She used her head to motion to his arm.

“Oh.” Slowly, he brought it back down again. Dammit, this sucked. All these little things that he was used to with Clarke . . . he had to change them now. Like when he’d gone and picked her up today, he’d almost kissed her, just because that was what felt natural to him. But she’d of course leaned back to stop him.

“There they are,” she said, pointing to the entrance. Indeed, there was Octavia, wearing a jean skirt that was way too short for his liking. Beside her was this _huge_ guy, one whom Bellamy suddenly had no confidence in beating if it came down to a physical fight.

“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Octavia said as they came to the table. “We got busy kissing.” She slid into the booth and greeted, “Hey, Clarke. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I had some time to kill today, so I kind of invited myself along.”

“Funny,” Octavia remarked, “Bellamy did the same thing.”

Lincoln sat down alongside her, nodding at Bellamy. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Lincoln.”

Bellamy didn’t say ‘nice to meet you, too,’ because he wasn’t yet sure that Lincoln was nice to meet. “This is Clarke,” he introduced.

“Hi,” she said with a much friendlier smile than anything he could produce in that moment.

“Hi,” Lincoln said to her.

A bit of an awkward silence settled over them then, but Octavia was the first to break it when she said, “So should we order or what?”

“Sounds good,” Bellamy said. “I’m gonna need a drink.” The only way he was going to make it through this lunch was with a little alcohol in his system.

They decided on what types of pizza to get pretty quickly—Octavia and Lincoln picked some disgusting veggie option, and Clarke wanted a whole plain cheese pizza, so Bellamy relented on his desire for pepperoni just so he could share with her. While they waited for it to come and ate away at a basket of garlic breadsticks, he learned a lot about Lincoln. Army brat. Grew up with just his dad, moved all over the place. Conveniently enough, though, he never mentioned his age, which was the thing Bellamy was most interested in.

“So after we left Trikru, we moved to Polis,” Lincoln said, wrapping up a very boring story that charted out everywhere he’d lived in the northeastern United States.

“And what year was that in?” Bellamy pointedly asked, eliciting a swift kick from Clarke beneath the table.

“That’s when I was a junior,” Lincoln answered.

Again, Bellamy wanted to ask the question, but he also had a new one that needed answered. “Polis. Did you play football there?”

“Yeah, defensive line.”

Aha. He’d felt like this guy had looked familiar ever since he’d seen him walk in. “You sacked me my freshman year,” Bellamy informed him. He still remembered that hit. Brutal.

“Did I?” Lincoln asked.

“Yeah. Gave me a concussion. I had to sit out the next game.”

“Oh, right,” Lincoln recalled. “Sorry about that.”

He shrugged. “No, it’s part of the game.” He hated the abundance of rules in football these days. It was a hard-hitting sport by design. Weak people had no business playing it.

“See, you both played football. Something in common,” Octavia said. “Isn’t that nice?”

It really wasn’t, not when that tackle from Lincoln had been one of the hardest hits he’d had ever taken in his life. Oh, well, though. They’d still won that game. “So how’d you meet my sister?” Bellamy asked him, wanting to cut to the chase before the pizza came.

“Well, she came in to work out, had a few problems with the yoga ball,” Lincoln said, laughing, “and, uh, that’s where it all began. I work there.”

“So I’ve heard.” He had to be a trainer or something, right? He was built like a Mack truck. Probably steroids. “You know she’s eighteen, right?”

Lincoln nodded slowly. “I do know that now,” he said. “When I first met her, I thought she was older. And she let me think that until our first date.”

“Oh, so she lied to you?” Bellamy said. “Not a great way to start a relationship.”

“Shut up, Bellamy,” his sister snapped. “I came clean, and he forgave me.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “So how old are you, Lincoln? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“I’m about to be twenty-six,” Lincoln replied.

“Twenty-six?” he shrieked. This guy was older than him? “And you’re dating an eighteen year-old?”

“I’ll be nineteen before the end of the year,” Octavia pointed out. As if that made a difference.

“I gave it some thought on whether or not it’s the right thing to do,” Lincoln admitted, “but . . .” Looking next to him at Octavia, he smiled. “I can’t help how I feel about her. I think she’s amazing.”

Octavia smiled back at him, a dreamy look in her eyes that Bellamy had never seen from her before.

“Oh, god,” Clarke cut in suddenly, holding one hand over her mouth.

“Yeah, this makes me wanna puke, too,” he said.

“No, Bellamy, I’m really . . .” She held one hand to her stomach and kept the other clamped over her mouth. “I need to get to the bathroom,” she whispered.

“Oh. _Oh_.” She was really nauseous then, not just grossed out by the couple across from them. “Yeah, go ahead.” He started to slide out of the booth.

“Wait,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. She burped, but that was all. “Never mind, I think it passed. I’m okay now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She glanced across the table at Octavia and Lincoln and apologized, “Sorry, I just . . . I’ve had this stomach bug, and I’m still getting over it.”

Lincoln seemed to buy that, but Octavia stared at Clarke suspiciously, and said, “Oh my god. Are you _pregnant_?”

The people in the booth next to them looked over when they heard that.

“A little louder, Octavia,” Clarke said. “I don’t think they heard you all the way in the back.”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna be an aunt?” she exclaimed, undeterred from being loud. “Congratulations!”

_Oh god_ , Bellamy thought. This was so awkward. “It’s not . . . it’s not mine, O,” he told her quietly. And poor Clarke just looked down at her lap.

“What?” Octavia spat. “No, you guys are . . .” Luckily, she stopped before saying anything else. She’d already said enough. “Oh,” she said as she processed that. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke assured her. “Just please don’t say anything.”

“No, of course not.” It was her turn to avert her eyes then, and to look embarrassed for saying anything at all.

Beneath the table, Bellamy reached over and put his hand on Clarke’s knee. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to touch her now that they were just friends, but . . . it felt like the least he could do.

****

_Bellamy knew there were going to be stares the first time he and Clarke walked into school together, hand-in-hand. He was used to being in the spotlight at this school. People paid attention to him because he was the quarterback and he was popular. It had to be a strange feeling for Clarke, though, to have so many eyes on her._

_“Okay, is it just me,” she said, “or is everyone looking at us?”_

_“Everyone’s looking,” he said. Stopping at her locker, he suggested, “Maybe we should give ‘em something to look at,” and bent down to give her a kiss. He didn’t care who was watching or what they thought about this. He liked kissing Clarke Griffin, so he was going to do it a lot._

_When she slid her hand out of his, it was only so she could unlock her locker. “Does this mean I’m sitting at your lunch table today?” she asked, squatting down to pull her books out of the bottom of it. “Or are you sitting at mine?”_

_“We could start our own table,” he suggested, leaning back against the lockers next to hers. “It’ll fill up fast.” He glanced down the hall and noticed Bree and her friends watching. Not one of them looked happy._

_“Do you have football after school?” Clarke asked him._

_“Yeah. Every day until after the season’s over.” Even after that, he planned on working out with Miller and the wrestling team, just to stay in shape._

_“Yeah, I’ve got cheer practice,” she said, shutting her locker. “We’re starting on our state routine. I think it’s gonna wear me out.”_

_“Not as much as I do, though, right?” He reached out and put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer._

_“No, not as much as you do.”_

Maybe I can wear her out tonight, _he pondered. His mom had a date, so he was supposed to watch Octavia, but . . . if she found something to watch on Netflix, Clarke could come over and they could be quiet._

_“I have to go,” she said. “Stu-co meeting.”_

_“Alright, I’ll see you later.” He kissed her again, a deeper kiss this time, the kind that teachers and other adults in the school would tell them to stop doing if they walked by and saw. Like he’d listen to them, though. Fuck that._

_Clarke headed one way down the hall to get to her meeting, and he headed down the other to go to the cafeteria and grab some breakfast. He had to walk past Bree and her friends, and of course Bree couldn’t_ not _say anything about what she’d just seen._

_“Really, Bellamy? A sophomore?” she huffed jealousy. “Seriously?”_

_He smirked. Yes, seriously. Clarke may have been a sophomore, but she was a cute, sexy one. And he liked her a lot more than he liked any other girl in that school._

****

Lunch passed with very little fanfare after Octavia had blurted out her congratulations. Bellamy didn’t even grill Lincoln too hard after that. The tone had shifted, and he ended up thinking about Clarke more than he did his sister’s new boyfriend.

Since it began raining, Octavia made up some excuse about needing to leave and get back to her dorm before it started storming, so Bellamy drove Clarke home, too. She didn’t say much on the drive. Neither did he, really. What were they supposed to say? Octavia had literally assumed they were having a baby together, but they weren’t, so . . . it was just weird.

When he pulled up outside her house, she didn’t make any effort to get out of the car, so he just turned off and sat there with her while the rain fell on his windshield.

“So what’d you think of him?” she finally asked.

“Lincoln?” He shrugged. “Seemed pretty nice. I didn’t end up hating him half as much as I wanted to.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, though,” she pointed out. “You _want_ Octavia to have a good boyfriend.”

“Yeah.” He gazed at her sadly and said, “I want that for you, too.”

She inhaled shakily and said, “Finn’s not as bad as he seemed when you met him. I’m sure once he finds out about the baby, he’ll start to come around.”

_Will he?_ Bellamy couldn’t help but wonder. Not every guy did. His father, whoever the son of a bitch was, had been twenty when his mom had gotten pregnant at seventeen, and he hadn’t stuck around to help out at all. Finn was probably, what, just a couple years older than that? Probably Clarke’s age? What were the odds he was going to step up and be a good dad?

He wasn’t about to voice any of his concerns to her, though. That was the last thing she needed to hear. He did ask, “When are you gonna tell him?” though, because he wasn’t sure keeping it a secret was a good thing for her stress levels.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Bellamy. I act like I’m holding it together, but . . . I feel sort of lost.”

She looked that way, too, but . . . she still looked beautiful. “Hey. Look at me,” he said, reaching over to take her hand in his. She did, but she had tears in her eyes. “You’re strong. You’re smart. You’re Clarke Griffin,” he reminded her. “I know you can do this.”

That got a smile out of her, but the tearful kind. Leaning over the seats, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, her shoulders shuddering a bit as she sniffled and cried lightly. He felt like he could sit in that car and hold her forever, or at least for however long she needed him to.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

As far as peaceful spots went, Clarke’s back porch was about as peaceful as they came. Sitting in the shade, in a comfy chair with the sound of the ocean waves gliding up onto the beach was always nice. Sometimes she liked to sit out there and read. But for some reason, she felt compelled to take her guitar out of her closet, bring it outside, and try to play a couple songs. It was horribly out of tune, though, since she hadn’t played it in so long.

“Well, this looks relaxing.”

She glanced up when she heard her a familiar voice. “Hi, Kane,” she said as her mom’s boyfriend walked around the side of the house. “Yeah, I haven’t played for a while, so I just thought . . . why not?” She strummed a chord, cringing. Still didn’t sound right.

“You should play more often,” he suggested, pulling up a chair next to her so he could sit down.

“Don’t have time,” she said. “Classes, studying, work . . . it keeps me busy.”

“Well, if it’s something you love, you should make time.”

Little did he know, she had doctor’s appointments in her future, and plenty of time that would be devoted to taking care of a baby after that. “I’ll try,” she said, setting her guitar aside. “So what brings you here?”

“I was hoping to talk to you,” he replied.

“About?”

“About your mom.”

“She’s crazy, Kane. Get out now while you still can,” she joked, eliciting a chuckle from him. “Kidding,” she mumbled. Her mom was actually pretty level-headed most of the time. Most of the time.

“You know I love her,” he said, “and you know I love you.”

“Gettin’ weird now.”

He bent forward, elbows on his knees, and folded his hands together. “I was just wondering how you would feel if I . . . proposed to her.”

She made a face. “Grossed out, mostly. I don’t wanna think about my mom going on a honeymoon and having sex.”

Kane gave her a look.

“No, all jokes aside . . . I’d be happy for you guys,” she told him. There had been a point in the immediate months following her parents’ divorce that she’d hoped neither one of them would ever date someone else, let alone re-marry. But she saw how happy Kane made her mother and how happy she made him, so how could she not root for them? “You’ve been really good for her, and it’s been nice having you around ever since my dad moved away.”

“So I’d have your blessing?” he asked.

Although that was typically the kind of thing fathers gave, her mom’s father wasn’t alive anymore. So perhaps the responsibility did fall to her. “Wow. Never thought I’d give anyone my blessing,” she said. “But yes, you’d have it. And my permission. Whatever you need.”

“Great,” he said smiling. “I just wanted to run it by you first.”

She did appreciate that. It’d always felt like Kane respected her and respected that it wasn’t easy to make room for a second father figure in life. He’d never forced his way into their family; it’d happened naturally. “When are you gonna do it?” she asked him.

“I’m not quite sure. Before the end of the year, probably,” he speculated. “I have to get a ring first. I wanna give her something custom-made. Maybe you could help me out with that?”

“Sure.” She knew her mom’s taste in jewelry pretty well, and she could make sure Kane designed a ring that looked completely different than her last engagement ring.

“And a romantic proposal, too,” he added. “Something she won’t expect.”

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” she said, picking up her guitar again. “In the meantime, my lips are sealed. I won’t drop any hints.”

“I appreciate that.” He sighed, stood up, and said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to playing. Oh, but you will be at the carnival tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.” She’d requested the whole day off work just to be there for his big event.

“Alright. Thanks, Clarke. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, waving as he headed down the porch steps.

“Bye,” she said, trying a different chord on her guitar. Dammit. Still out of tune.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy felt a nerf football hit his chest, and he jolted awake.

“About time,” Octavia growled impatiently. “I’ve been yelling at you to wake up for five minutes. I didn’t wanna get too close in case you were naked under there.”

He looked himself over, and since he wasn’t wearing a shirt and only had boxers on underneath the covers, he could see why she assumed he might be. “I’m not,” he informed her.

“Good. Can we talk for a minute?”

“About Lincoln?” He rubbed his tired eyes. “I’d rather not.”

“No, about Clarke.”

Well, that got his attention, obviously. But it was still first thing in the morning, and this had been one hell of a rude awakening, so he wasn’t sure it was the right time to talk about her.

“You didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” Octavia bit out almost accusatorily.

“‘cause it’s not my secret to tell.”

“Yeah, but . . . that would’ve been nice to know.” She paced around his room, huffing and shaking her head. “Do you have any idea how awkward that was for me? I felt horrible. I just automatically assumed that if Clarke was having a baby, you’d be the father, but . . .” She trailed off, her forehead scrunching up in confusion. “Who is the father, anyway? Are you sure it’s not you?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” he explained.

“Oh, god. She’s really up a creek without a paddle then,” Octavia remarked. “No wonder you guys haven’t gotten back together. That’s dramatic.”

Yeah, unfortunately, it was. When he’d come back to Arkadia, he’d been hoping that she might still somehow be single, that they might be able to just pick up where they’d left off. But fate had other plans.

“Clarke’s pregnant,” Octavia said as she continued to pace. “She’s _pregnant_.”

Suddenly, from the kitchen, he heard his mother shriek, “What?” She came running into the bedroom, a look of alarm on her face.

“Oh, no, it’s not what you think, Mom,” Octavia told her. “It’s not Bellamy’s.”

He felt like rolling over onto his stomach and going right back to sleep.

“What’s going on?” his mother spat out.

He really didn’t feel like talking about Clarke’s situation any further, especially since Clarke hadn’t wanted either of these two to know about it yet. So he blurted, “Octavia’s dating a twenty-six year old,” in hopes of getting his mother focused on something else. And it worked.

“ _What?!_ ” she boomed.

“Bellamy!” Octavia hissed. “Ugh!” She stomped down the hall, and their mother followed.

“Octavia Blake, you get back here right now!”

Bellamy laughed lightly and rolled over onto his side to shut his eyes again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kane’s carnival had become a big community event over the years. They didn’t have a county fair anymore, ever since a kid had died on a ride, so this was the next best thing. Clarke knew it took a lot of work to put on, so she was more than willing to do whatever she could to make it a success. And usually that involved working at the kissing booth.

She showed up at 1:00 in the afternoon to relieve Raven from her duties. “Oh, thank god you’re here,” Raven said dramatically as she stepped into the booth. “If I had to kiss one more of these guys, I was gonna go crazy.”

“Sleazebags?” Clarke assumed, making a face.

“Yes. And the only sleazebag I’m interested in kissing is my boyfriend.”

Clarke laughed. “Well, thanks for holding down the fort.”

“Yeah. Good luck.” Raven grabbed her purse and was out of that booth in an instant.

Clarke took a seat and looked out at the long line of awaiting men, all eager to get a smooch. There were a few girls mixed in there, too, though, so she was probably the perfect person for this job. “Alright, come on up,” she invited, putting on a happy face.

Kissing booths were sort of a sexist thing, but they made a lot of money, and all the money this carnival made was going towards a good cause. And Clarke had never had anybody cross the line with it. Everyone pretty much respected that a kiss in this instance was nothing more than a quick peck on the lips. No making out, no tongue. Everything was very PG.

One after another, she puckered up and kissed the people in that line. Some were people from high school, and many of the others were guys she’d seen around campus. Most of the older men steered clear of the kissing booth in fear of appearing pervy, and that was just fine with her. Younger boys, however, were pretty brazen.

“Are you eighteen?” Clarke skeptically asked a kid with pimples all over her his face.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Then I’m not kissing you,” she said. “Next!”

The line seemed endless, and the bad breath some people possessed made her want to gag. She took frequent water breaks just to get the taste of so many mouths out of hers, and that helped some.

A guy who looked like he’d emerged from his basement solely for this somehow managed to make a peck on the lips an awful kiss, and as if that weren’t cringey enough, he even asked, “Would you like to go out sometime?” afterward.

“Nope, sorry,” she said, having found that it was best to just let them down quickly. “Next!”

The line gradually started to dwindle about an hour and a half after Clarke had shown up. She’d volunteered to do this for an hour and an hour only, but since it didn’t seem like any other girl was showing up to take her place, she decided to just go ahead and finish it out herself.

When it came to the last guy in line, he was just sort of nice and nerdy. He thanked her, and she said, “You’re welcome,” wondering if he ever got any kisses in his life. He seemed so grateful to have just gotten this one. “And I’m done,” she proclaimed. The guy taking tickets had cut the line off about fifteen minutes ago, so he gave her a thumbs up and flipped around a sign that said _Closed_ next to the kissing booth banner.

She was just about to get up and leave when she heard, “Wait a minute, hold up! Hold up!” In the distance, she saw Bellamy running her way with a couple of pink carnival tickets.

The guy manning the booth shook his head and tried to tell him it was closed now, but Clarke said, “It’s okay, he can come.”

Bellamy dumped more tickets than was necessary into the man’s hands and came up to the booth. “Hey,” he said, sounding out of breath.

“Hey.” Had he run from the parking lot or something?

“Kissing booth, huh?” he said.

“Yeah, I’ve done it for the past three years. It’s kinda gross.” She was going to have to brush her teeth at least five times when she got home, just to get her mouth tasting like her own again.

“Raises money for a good cause, though, right?” he noted.

“Yeah.” Everything about this carnival—the tickets sold, the food purchased, the free-will donations received—it all went towards benefitting Kane’s altruism efforts.

“Then it’s not gross,” Bellamy declared. “You got time for one more?”

If he was that one more, then she had all the time in the world. “I suppose,” she said, playing it coy. Finally, somebody she actually _wanted_ to kiss.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She did as he instructed, eyelids falling shut as she eagerly awaited the feel of his mouth on hers. But instead, he kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger there a little longer than most people would have. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in surprise.

“Just friends, right?” he reminded her.

Oh, yeah, she had set out that stipulation. “Right,” she said, still amazed that one kiss on the cheek from him could feel better than all the other kisses she’d had that day.

Since she’d done her part at the kissing booth, that meant she had the rest of the afternoon free to actually walk around and enjoy the carnival. Bellamy didn’t seem to be there with anyone, so he was more than happy to accompany her around the midway as they browsed the various things to do. Food, games, rides . . . there was a building with donated items up for silent auction, too, and a bingo hall, where playing one bingo card cost seventy-five cents.

“So your mom’s boyfriend puts on this carnival?” Bellamy said as they strolled along together.

“Yep. He runs the Arkadia Youth Center. That’s what this is all raising money for,” she told him.

“Youth Center?” He cocked his head to the side. “We didn’t used to have one of those, did we?”

“No, he started it up a couple years ago after he sold his business,” she explained. “He’s got a lot of money, so he basically pays for all this stuff himself. He rents the rides, the food stands, the games . . . everything.”

“Huh. So he doesn’t even make any money then?”

“No, but the center does. That’s his priority. Plus, all the troubled kids he mentors . . . they come here and they help set it up, and some of them even help run it. It’s good volunteer experience to have on their resume when they’re applying for jobs and scholarships and stuff.”

“I see,” he said. “And you do the kissing booth to help out.”

“I kinda got roped into it the first year. Now it’s just tradition.”

“Hmm.” As they approached a corndog truck, he asked, “You hungry?”

She made a face and shook her head. She wasn’t a corndog fan even under normal circumstances.

“Didn’t think so,” he said. “Well, what about some rides? Anything here you wanna go on?”

She looked around at the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Scrambler, the Zipper, and the Octopus, all of which caused motion sickness. “Is there anything here I _can_ go on?” she wondered.

“Probably not,” he said. “Ferris wheel?”

Again, she shook her head. “I don’t wanna take my chances. Puke’s bad, but puke falling from the sky would just be disgusting.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Gross.” He sighed, looked off over behind the Ferris wheel, and then said, “There might be one ride you can go on.”

Was there really? It seemed like people only liked thrill rides at the carnival these days.

Ten minutes later, she found herself on the carousel, riding on a pretty white horses with flowers in its mane. Some obnoxiously cheerful song played as they circled around and around, and Bellamy stood next to her, holding onto the pole of the inner horse to keep his balance.

“I look ridiculous,” she said, feeling like people walking by were giving her strange looks. This was very clearly a kids’ ride, as evidenced by that fact that the only other adults on it were riding _with_ their kids.

“No, you look cute,” Bellamy assured her. “I’d ride one myself if I wouldn’t break it.”

Well, at least he’d hopped up on there with her so she didn’t have to be embarrassed all by herself. “I did always used to love the carousel,” she reminisced. “My dad would take me on it when I was little.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I used to ride it with Octavia.”

Her heart warmed at the thought of big brother Bellamy riding with his little sister. “Now someday I’ll ride it with my kid,” she said, trying to smile at the thought. But it wasn’t a smile she could keep in place for long. “Octavia’s not gonna say anything about that, right?”

“No. I swore her to secrecy,” he said. “My mom . . . kinda found out, too.”

Clarke’s eyes bulged.

“But she won’t say anything.”

“Good.” Eventually, she’d tell the people who mattered, and then it didn’t matter who else found out. But until then, she needed to keep it under wraps. “You wanna play some carnival games after this?” she asked him, eager to get her mind back on more light-hearted stuff and off of her pregnancy. “I know you have to feed your competitive spirit.”

“Yeah,” he said, “carnival games sound good.”

“One of my least favorite professors ever is sitting on the dunk tank. But I can’t throw hard enough to dunk him,” she lamented. “Think you can help me out with that?”

He smiled confidently, and she had the feeling she was asking the right person.

After the carousel, they headed straight to the dunk tank, where Bellamy surrendered a few more of the roll of tickets he’d purchased to lob a ball at a small target. He hit it on his first shot, and it sent her jackass professor tumbling into the water.

“One shot,” he said boastfully. “One shot.”

“Impressive,” she said, taking a moment to savor the sight of the same man who had _dared_ to give her a B on the final exam in BIO 101 drenched from head to toe.

“Well, I was a quarterback.” Bellamy held out his arm, and she linked hers with his, seeing no harm in walking arm-in-arm with him. It wasn’t as intimate as holding hands. Linked arms were friendly. Linked hands were romantic.

“Do you remember the powderpuff football game?” she asked him as they headed back down the midway.

“Oh, yeah. Cheerleaders versus dance team.” His eyes lit up, and he licked his lips. “That was hot.”

“That was painful,” she recalled. “Why did the cheerleaders make me the quarterback?”

“‘cause they thought I could teach you a few things.”

“Oh, you were teaching me things,” she said. “Just not about football.”

He grinned proudly.

It would have been nice to take another stroll down memory lane while they strolled past all the games and decided which one to play, but unfortunately, she spotted her mother not far away, and of course, her mother glanced their way just in time to see them. “Oh, shit,” she swore.

“What?” He followed her gaze and noticed who she was noticing. “Oh, your mom.” As she started coming towards them, he asked, “Think she’ll be happy to see me?”

Clarke tried to smile reassuringly, but her mom’s opinion of Bellamy hadn’t always been a favorable one, so it was hard to say.

****

_“Mom?” Clarke knocked lightly on the door to her parents’ bedroom and pushed it open._

_“Hi, honey,” her mother greeted. She was sitting at her desk, pouring over some notes, probably about a patient. “How was school?”_

_“Fine.” She’d actually skipped a class for the first time ever—nothing major, just study hall during eighth period—because Bellamy had invited her to make out in the janitor’s closet. “I was wondering if we could talk for a minute,” she said, trying to hold on the courage she’d spent all day building up. Her mind hadn’t even been on classes; it’d been on this inevitable conversation._

_“Sure.” Her mother set her notes aside and stood up. “What’s going on?”_

_Clarke wrung her hands together nervously, feeling like it was too late to back out now. She was doing this. “Well, I don’t really know how to say this,” she started in, “but . . . I’m sort of seeing someone.”_

_“Really?” Her mom’s eyebrows arched. “Who?”_

Here we go, _she thought, bracing herself for a less-than-enthused reaction. “Bellamy Blake.”_

_“Bellamy?” her mother echoed. “He’s the football player, isn’t he?”_

_“Yeah.” He was_ very _talented._

_“Isn’t he a senior?”_

_“Mmm-hmm.” Of course her mom would zero right in on that fact._

_“Oh.” She nodded, processing that, and it looked like she was trying very hard to remain calm. “And how long has this been going on?” she asked._

_“A couple weeks,” Clarke admitted. Two weeks, actually. Two weeks ago, she’d ambushed Bellamy in the boys locker room and begged him to take her virginity._

_“Well, I just . . . I wish you’d told me sooner,” her mom said._

_“I know. I’m sorry.” They’d been pretty obvious at school today, so she just wanted to be upfront with her parents before gossip started getting around._

_“Well, invite him over for dinner sometime,” her mom said, easing past her. “I’d like to get to know him.”_

_Clarke stood in the doorway after she’d left the room, sighing. It would’ve been nice if she could just end the conversation there, but that wasn’t everything she needed to reveal. “There’s more, Mom,” she said, heading downstairs._

_Her mom was already in the kitchen, probably planned on doing a little stress-eating in light of this news. “What do you mean?” she asked._

_Clarke took a deep breath and forced the words out of her mouth. “I’m having sex with him.”_

_Her mom froze with one hand on the refrigerator handle, then spun around. “What?” she screeched. “No, you are not having sex until you’re ready, and you’re too young. You’re not ready.”_

_Clarke grimaced inwardly. “I already_ had _sex with him,” she confessed, feeling all sorts of awkward._

_Her mother’s face took on a look of pure horror, and she dropped her head and gasped, “Oh, dear God.”_

_“It’s okay.” Clarke slowly made her way across the living room and into the kitchen, trying to think of something she could say to put her mother’s mind at ease. “I remembered all our talks about safety and . . . we’ve been safe. He’s worn a condom.”_

_“Condoms are not one-hundred percent safe, Clarke,” her mom snapped._

_“I know. Which is why I felt like I needed to talk to you.” She and Bellamy had done it three times with just condoms now, and she didn’t want to tempt fate any further. “I need to be on birth control.”_

_“You’re sixteen,” her mother cried, tears spilling from her eyes now. “Oh, god.”_

_“Mom, you don’t have to worry,” Clarke reassured her. “I’m trying to be really responsible here.”_

_Sniffling and wiping at her eyes, her mother said, “I just didn’t think . . . I didn’t think this would happen so soon. I’m not ready for you to stop being my little girl.”_

_That sort of tugged at Clarke’s heartstrings, so she promised her, “I’ll always be your little girl, but . . . I’m not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t up to her mom to determine when she was ready to be having sex. That was a decision she had to make on her own, and she’d already made it._

_“Was he the first?” her mother asked._

_“Yes.”_

_“So he’s the only?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_That seemed to make her mom feel a little better, because she was able to blink back some tears and nod. “Good,” she said. “That’s good. What about STDs, though? Has he ever had any?”_

_They hadn’t really talked about that, so she didn’t have a definite answer. “I don’t think so.”_

_“You don’t_ think _so?” her mom resounded shrilly._

_“No, he hasn’t.” She’d been up close and personal with Bellamy . . . down there. Everything looked the way it did in diagrams. “Look . . . I know this is awkward,” she acknowledged, ready to wrap things up, “so can I just . . . can I just get on birth control? Please?”_

_Her mom let out a shaky exhale, then shifted in doctor mode and said, “I suppose we could get you an implant. That’s usually the most effective.”_

_“No. No implants,” she said, shutting down that idea immediately. “I looked those up. They look creepy.”_

_“Well, then there’s the shot or the pill.”_

_“Just the pill. I don’t wanna get shots.”_

_Her mother, clearly very much still in the processing phase of this revelation, gulped and held back further tears. “If you take the pill, you have to remember to take it every single day,” she said._

_“I will.” She brushed her teeth every single morning, so she’d just set her birth control right next to her toothbrush._

_“Are you sure?” her mother asked._

_“Yes.” She was sure about all of this, about choosing the pill, about continuing to sleep with Bellamy. It felt good, and it felt right, and it felt like . . . like she was owning her decisions and owning her life. Definitely not a little kid anymore. “Don’t worry, Mom,” she said. “I won’t get pregnant until I’m a lot older and settled down someday.”_

****

Clarke wrapped her arm a little tighter around Bellamy’s as her mom got even closer. There was no way to walk off and pretend they hadn’t seen her. In fact, they were both probably standing there like deer caught in the headlights.

“Oh, okay, here she comes,” Bellamy said, sounding a bit nervous. “This is fun. I have no idea what I’m gonna say.”

“Just be yourself,” she suggested. Plastering on a big, fake smile, she greeted, “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi,” her mother said. “Bellamy. It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Abby,” he said, but quickly he corrected himself with, “Mrs. Griffin.”

“I’m not actually married to Mr. Griffin anymore,” she informed him.

“That’s what I heard,” he said. “I’m . . . sorry about that.”

 _Oh god_ , Clarke thought, feeling like it wasn’t a good idea to be talking about her dad. Her mom barely even spoke to him these days, only when she had to.

“Where’s Kane?” she asked her mom, feeling like she couldn’t go wrong talking about somebody her mom actually did still like.

“Oh, you know, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to ensure this whole day goes off without a hitch,” she said. Eying the way Clarke’s arm was hooked with Bellamy’s, she asked, “What have you two been up to?”

“Nothing much,” Bellamy answered quickly.

“Yeah, I just got done with the kissing booth, and then we went and rode the carousel,” Clarke replied.

“The carousel?” her mother echoed. “The kiddie ride?”

“It’s the only ride I can go on,” Bellamy said quickly. “I got this stomach thing. All the other rides make me nauseous.”

She subtly smiled, thankful to him for covering for her. “Now we’re just hanging out,” she said, “playing some games.”

Her mom nodded slowly, her face full of skepticism. “Well, I will let you two . . . hang out then,” she said.

“Okay. See you, Mom.” Clarke practically dragged Bellamy away from her, happy to have gotten that out of the way.

“Bye, Mrs. Griffin,” Bellamy yelled back over his shoulder. “I mean Abby.” He cringed, lowered his face towards Clarke’s, and whispered, “What do I call her now?”

“Either one’s fine.” Her mom hadn’t changed her last name since she was so well-known in town as Doctor Griffin, so she couldn’t very well get mad if that was how Bellamy still addressed her.

Bellamy didn’t want his tickets to go to waste, and since there were no more rides that they could go on without her potentially throwing up, he gave her half of what he had and told her they should try every carnival game. She sucked at most of them, but Bellamy was pretty good. Even though most of them were nearly impossible to win, he excelled at the ring toss and managed to hook the necks of three empty bottles with the small hoops.

“Three in a row!” the game operator exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Oh my god, you won, Bellamy!” she squealed.

“Yeah, what do I win?”

“Any one of our fabulous prizes.” The game operator motioned to a vast array of stuffed animals hung from the ceiling and stacked in the back. Some of them looked creepy, and they all appeared to be cheaply-made. But a few were cute.

“What do you want?” Bellamy asked her.

She scanned her options and decided on the one that looked the most adorable. “Purple bunny.”

“The purple bunny, please,” he requested.

“Excellent choice.” The game operator had to use a long pole to retrieve it from the ceiling, then handed it over to Bellamy and said, “Congratulations!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered, immediately giving the toy to her. “Here,” he said. “The first of many gifts for the baby.”

She smiled appreciatively, giving the bunny a little hug. It was surprisingly soft and squishy, and she kind of loved it.

An afternoon at the carnival with Bellamy soon turned into an evening. She stayed later than she’d intended because she was having a good time with him. They went inside when it got too hot and played a few rounds of Bingo—he won that, too, but his only prize was a five dollar gift certificate to an in-town flower shop—and afterward, they shared some popcorn and sat at a picnic table while two folk singers entertained the crowd. Clarke made sure to drop a couple of bucks in their guitar case, because they were good, and she appreciated good music.

Bellamy followed her home, just to make sure she got there alright, and she thanked him, but she told him not to get out of his car. And they both knew why. If he came inside, then he might end up . . . well, _cumming_ inside, and they couldn’t let that happen again. So he waited until she unlocked the door and waved goodnight to him before he whipped a U-turn and headed home himself.

She shut the front door with a smile on her face. Today had actually ended up being a really fun day.

With the purple bunny in hand, she headed upstairs and into the empty bedroom. Flipping on the light, she was greeted by boxes, each of them full of things she had yet to unpack. Nothing major, just knick-knacks and Christmas decorations, which she could always store in the downstairs closet. When the time came, she’d have to buy some very different decorations for this room. Like a mobile. Babies liked mobiles.

She set the purple bunny down on top of the Christmas decorations box, figuring that was a good enough place for him right now. Surely she’d end up buying plenty more toys and stuffed animals, but she’d always remember that this gift from Bellamy was the first one the baby would ever receive.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

“So why do you wanna work out here?” Miller asked Bellamy as they walked into the campus rec center’s gym.

“Because Octavia’s new boyfriend works here,” he explained, scanning the room for him. Oh, yeah, there he was, loading up some other big guy who was doing squats.

“Which one is he?” Miller asked.

Bellamy pointed him out. “That guy.”

“Damn.” Miller got a very specific look on his face, kind of a turned on one, but when Bellamy sent him a sharp glare, he said, “So what’s your plan?”

“I’m gonna bench press,” Bellamy declared. “A lot. Intimidate the fuck out of him.”

Miller shook his head. “You’re not intimidating that guy.”

“Wanna bet?” So what if Lincoln had quite a few pounds on him? He’d pushed his way through entire defensive lines before.

“Bellamy?”

He turned around when he heard his sister, and when he saw that she’d shown up to the gym wearing only a sports bra and black spandex shorts, he really wanted to lecture her and tell her to put some more fucking clothes on.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’m exercising,” he answered quickly.

“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, so am I. So don’t get in my way.” She bumped past him and headed in her boyfriend’s direction.

“Let’s load this up,” Bellamy said, taking a seat on an open bench press machine.

“How much weight you want?” Miller asked.

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I lifted.”

“How’d you stay in shape over the years?”

“What, you think rowing a fuckin’ gondola was easy?” Maybe he wouldn’t be able to lift quite as much as he had in high school, just because he was out of practice, but he actually felt like he was stronger now.

“Oh . . . no.” Miller stood behind the bar, cringing as he looked in Lincoln’s direction.

“What?” Bellamy looked over there, too, and what he saw made his blood boil. Lincoln had forgotten all about the guy he’d been helping, and now he was helping Octavia. Helping her _stretch_. She was lying on her back on a mat while he pressed one of her legs up as far to her chest as it would go. It brought his lower body in way too close to hers, and he felt like he was going to be sick. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” he grumbled. Shooting to his feet, he decided, “Screw this. We’re not working out here,” and stomped towards the exit.

He and Miller never did end up working out that day, but they did wander around campus for about an hour. Miller was scoping out boyfriends, or at least trying to, but nobody was catching his eye. Bellamy didn’t really feel like he was any help in that regard. He was a pretty poor judge of who was an attractive guy and who wasn’t. All he knew was that he was attractive—legitimately genetically blessed, in fact—but thankfully, Miller had never had any interest in him.

Because his friend had to go to work, he ended up by himself for lunch. He decided to swing by Eligius in case Clarke was working, and since she was, he decided to have lunch there. Unfortunately, she and the owner were the only ones there, so she was pretty busy. She said hi to him, told him she’d be on her break soon, and advised that he avoid the roast beef sandwich, as it was looking kind of sketchy today.

While he waited for his hamburger, he tried to subtly watch Clarke, just to see how she was doing. She looked a little tired, but she kept a smile on her face with all the customers. She was good at her job. She was . . . kind of good at everything.

Even though he didn’t have a problem sitting there by himself, he was still relieved when someone he knew entered. “Jasper!” he called, waving to his high school companion.

“Hey.” Jasper came over to his table and sat down.

“What’s up, man?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just had a break in between classes.”

Man, everyone had a job or had classes or had both. Bellamy didn’t have either of those things. “What’re you studying?” he asked.

“Psychology. I wanna help kids who have social anxiety and issues like I did.”

“That’s cool.” It’d taken him an entire summer to get Jasper Jordan to come out of his shell and actually try out for the football team. His social anxiety had been a huge hindrance to him, but he seemed a lot more at ease with it now.

“Yeah, I didn’t really have anyone to help me,” Jasper said. “Except for you.”

“Ah, I didn’t do that much.”

“No, you did,” Jasper insisted. “I would’ve hated every second of high school if you hadn’t, you know, taken me under your wing.”

He shrugged, not wanting to take too much credit. After all, back when he’d been a little junior high punk, he’d trash-canned kids like Jasper. It’d taken him until high school, until he was under a microscope because of his athleticism, to get his head out of his ass and be a better guy. “How was it after I graduated?” he asked.

“It wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t bad, either. Everyone knew me as your friend, so nobody made fun of me,” Jasper said. “You had a lot of power over that place, you know. People there still talk about you.”

“They do?” Obviously people hadn’t just forgotten about him, but . . . his curiosity was piqued. “What do they say?”

“Well, mostly they say the football team was a lot better when you were on it.”

He nodded. Of course. Football. Of course that was what people remembered him for. It wasn’t a bad thing, but . . . there was more to life. He knew that now.

“Why didn’t you stick with it?” Jasper asked. “You were good enough to play in college.”

“Yeah, but . . . it just wasn’t meant to be.” It would’ve been nice playing four years at UCF, actually getting a degree in the meantime, but . . .

“Hey, who’s that girl over there?” he said, pointing out a pale chick with dark hair at a table not too far away. “She keeps looking at you.”

Jasper glanced that way and said, “Oh, Maya? She’s a nursing student. I had a class with her last year. We were in a study group.”

Well, _Maya_ kept peeking up from the pages of her book and giving Jasper the eye. “Did you guys hook up?” Bellamy asked.

“No.” Jasper grunted. “I wish.”

“What do you mean, you _wish_? You like her?”

“Yeah.”

“Then go talk to her,” he suggested. “Flirt with her. Ask her out.”

Jasper made a face, shaking his head reluctantly. “See, all that stuff might come naturally to you, but whenever I try, I just spaz up.”

“It’s not that hard,” Bellamy assured him. “Just ask her what she’s reading. Tell her she looks nice today.”

“Okay, okay,” Jasper said. “And then what?”

“You gotta freestyle it at some point.” He couldn’t write out a script for the kid, but he had no problem getting him started.

“Alright. Alright, I’m doin’ it,” Jasper decided boldly, rising to his feet. He took one step in that direction, then turned back around. “What do I ask her first?”

“What she’s reading.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath, visibly shook out his nerves, and approached Maya’s table. She smiled at him pleasantly and set her book down, so that was a good sign.

_Come on, you got it, buddy_ , Bellamy thought, watching inconspicuously. He wasn’t sure if Jasper had ever actually had a girlfriend before. He’d never gotten one as a freshman, but he had gone to prom with Bree. Aesthetically-speaking, he could have done worse.

“Is Jasper flirting with that girl?” Clarke asked him quietly as she came towards his table.

“Attempting to.” He had to laugh when Jasper nearly fell out of his chair. “I kinda missed that kid.”

Clarke untied her apron and slid into the booth, apparently on break now. “Did you keep in touch with anyone from high school?” she asked him.

“No. Miller for a while, but I got busy with football, and he got busy with wrestling, so eventually we just lost touch.” It was weird, though, because now that he was back, it felt pretty natural to reconnect with all his friends. And especially with her.

“Wasn’t it scary,” she said, “just starting this whole brand new chapter of your life all on your own?”

He considered that for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I felt like I could handle it.”

She sighed, looked down at her lap, and mumbled, “I wish I felt that way.”

Yeah, she definitely had a brand new chapter of her life ahead of her. But she wasn’t on her own. She had her parents and . . . maybe she’d have Finn. “You got your appointment tomorrow, right?” he asked.

“No, two days from now.” She bit her bottom lip, then confessed, “I’m really nervous. I just have no idea what to expect.”

That sucked for her. Weren’t ultrasounds supposed to be something parents looked forward to? “You want me to go with you?” he offered.

The look on her face completely changed, and she looked a bit . . . touched. “Oh, I could never ask you to do that,” she said.

“You didn’t ask. I volunteered,” he pointed out. It wasn’t like he had a busy schedule or anything. He’d spent every day back in Arkadia just hanging out with people. But she was definitely his favorite to hang out with.

“It’s not here in town,” she told him. “It’s a little bit of a drive.”

“So I’ll keep you company.” He didn’t care if they had to drive for hours. Honestly, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend a day than with her.

“I mean . . .” She looked a bit hesitant, but he could tell she was giving in. “If you really want to, I wouldn’t say no,” she said. “At least not for this first one.”

There was no way he was going to make her go alone. “Yeah, we’ll go together,” he decided. “What time?”

“We’d have to leave at 11:00.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you at your place. Day after tomorrow.”

Some of the tension dissolved from her body, and she looked relieved. “Thank you,” she said. “That makes me feel better.”

Anything to make her feel better. Especially right now.

Jasper came back to the table then, grinning from ear to ear. “Bellamy, I made her laugh,” he announced excitedly. Noticing that his seat was taken, he said, “Oh, hey, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled up at him.

Jasper finally seemed to sense that he’d barged in on their moment, because he motioned between the two of them and said to Bellamy, “Oh, sorry, are you flirting, too?”

For once, he really wasn’t. He was just trying to be a good friend. But flirting was kind of his default setting with Clarke—with a lot of girls, actually—so he understood why Jasper would just assume that was what he was up to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, Bellamy was awoken by a phone call from a number he didn’t recognize. He answered it anyway, his voice all hoarse and groggy, and he was glad he did. Because it was somebody calling about a job. That construction job Miller had mentioned to him, as it turned out. He had to go in for an interview.

Having never worked construction before, he wasn’t exactly sure what to wear. It wasn’t the kind of job that required a suit and tie, and he didn’t even really have one, so he went with a button-down shirt and jeans instead. The place that was hiring was just a local company with small offices on the edge of town. He sat out with the receptionist, wracking his brain to remember some of the stuff he’d learned back in careers class in ninth grade. Good firm handshake. Make eye contact. Confidence, not cockiness. And be honest.

He actually considered himself to be pretty good with people. In general, people liked him. In general.

****

_The front door of that huge house swung open, and out came Clarke, scurrying towards him excitedly._

_“Hey,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. Rising up on her tiptoes, she gave him a kiss. “Nice, um . . . t-shirt.”_

_“Is this okay? I don’t really have any nicer shirts,” he admitted. Actually, he had one suit, but he’d grown out of it a couple years ago. Nowadays, he just borrowed suits from other guys on the team when it came time for the athletic awards night._

_“No, it’s fine,” she said, smoothing out some wrinkles for him. “You look good.” Wrapping her hands around his arm, she led him to the door. “Okay, do you remember what we talked about?”_

_“Your dad likes Led Zeppelin, your mom likes heathy eating, they both like politics for some reason, and neither one of ‘em likes the fact that you’re having sex with me,” he recapped._

_“Very good,” she praised. “You look nervous.”_

_“I am. I’ve never really met a girl’s parents before.” People in that town knew him, so when girls mentioned his name, their parents knew who she was referring to. But this whole official sit-down dinner thing . . . that was new._

_“You’ll be fine,” she assured him as they walked inside. “Just be your naturally charming self.”_

_“But that’s the problem. Parents don’t think I’m charming. Only girls do.”_

_“Relax,” she said. “You got this.”_

_Did he, though? He ‘had it’ when it came to making a clutch play to win a football game. He didn’t feel so clutch right now._

_When they walked into the kitchen, there were her parents, both of them. Her mom was taking something out of the oven, and her dad was setting the table. They both stopped what they were doing when he walked in._

_“Mom, Dad, this is Bellamy,” Clarke introduced._

_“Hello,” her father said, coming towards him with his hand extended._

_“Hi,” Bellamy greeted, giving his hand a shake. Good firm handshake. That was supposed to show respect._

_“Nice to meet you,” her dad said. “I see your picture in the paper all the time.”_

_“Oh, yeah, football stuff.” He’d been in the paper, on the news . . . nowadays, there were even websites that detailed his potential as a college quarterback._

_“Bellamy, this is my dad Jake,” Clarke said, “and this is my mom Abby.”_

_Abby took off her oven mitt and came his way. “Mrs. Griffin would be fine,” she said._

_“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Griffin,” he said, trying to be all formal and polite. “Mr. Griffin.”_

_“Well, I hope you like seafood,” she said, “because that’s what I made.”_

_“Oh, seafood. Yeah.” He actually couldn’t stand fish or anything even remotely fish-like, but he could stomach it for the sake of making a good impression. “I’m on a seafood diet. I see food and I eat it,” he joked, but damn it all to hell, he was the only one who laughed. “That sounded funnier in my head,” he muttered._

_“I thought it was funny,” Clarke said. Pulling him towards the table, she said, “Come on, sit by me.”_

_He and Clarke ended up together on one side of the table while Abby and Jake sat at each end. They said a prayer before eating, which Bellamy felt weird about, because he and his family never prayed. Hell, they barely even had a kitchen table to sit at. Most of time it was covered with bills and shit. And they didn’t eat fully-prepared meals like this. They did a lot of TV dinners._

_The food was . . . interesting. What Abby had been taking out of oven turned out to be seafood lasagna, which he’d never even heard of. One bite in and he could already tell it wasn’t his thing, but he forced down a few more bites. There was shrimp, too, which he wasn’t even sure how to eat. He watched Clarke easily peel the shell off of hers, but he didn’t have the right technique for that and ended up just making a mess when he tried, so he just gobbled a few down shell and all. Pretty chewy stuff. Kind of disgusting._

_To his credit, Jake seemed like he genuinely wanted to get to know him and be welcoming. He asked how long Bellamy had lived in Arkadia—his whole life—and what grade his sister was in—seventh. He seemed like a pretty decent guy. Wealthy as fuck, but decent._

_“So Bellamy,” he said, “when did you start playing football?”_

_“Uh, when I was really young,” he replied, moving the food around his plate a bit to make it look like he’d eaten more than he actually had. “I didn’t have a dad, so my mom taught me how to throw.”_

_“And your mom works at a factory, right?” Abby asked._

_“Yeah, a—a clothing factory,” he stammered. And here this woman was a doctor. Probably because she’d been able to afford an education. Because she’d come from money. And because she hadn’t had a son at seventeen to take care of all on her own._

_“You should’ve seen the last game,” Clarke piped up, switching the conversation back to football. “Bellamy won it for everyone with a trick play. It was amazing.”_

_Her mother shuddered and said, “Oh, football just makes me nervous. All those hard hits and concussions.”_

_“It’s brutal,” he agreed. That was why not everyone was cut out to play it._

_“Bellamy’s really good, though,” Clarke bragged him up. “He’s gonna play in college.”_

_“Well, hopefully.” Nothing was set in stone yet._

_“Where do you plan to go?” Jake asked him._

_“I don’t know yet.” Right now, there were a couple options on the table. “Got a visit at UCF in November.”_

_“UCF?” Jake echoed. “Central Florida? That’s quite a distance from here.”_

_Fourteen hours by car, over a day by bus. He’d looked it up._

_“So you don’t plan to stay in the area then?” Abby asked, tilting her head to the side curiously._

_“No.” None of the power five conferences wanted a quarterback from Maryland, so if he still wanted to play Division 1 football, the American Athletic Conference was going to be his best bet._

_Eager to shift the attention off of himself and his not-quite-set-in-stone future plans, he cleared his throat, turned to Clarke’s dad, and said, “So I hear you’re a Led Zeppelin fan. So am I. I love ‘Thunderstruck.’”_

_Jake just smiled and nodded his head. “That’s AC/DC,” he informed him._

_It was? Crap. They played it over the loudspeaker during warm-ups before games. He’d never known who sang it, though. “Right,” he said, embarrassed to have made a mistake. He searched for something else to strike up a conversation about, and unfortunately, the only thing coming to mind was politics. “So our mayor’s doin’ a bang-up job, isn’t he?” he said, nearly choking on the words. Why mention a mayor he couldn’t even stand and open up that can of worms?_

_Bellamy was so thankful when the dinner was over. Not only did all that seafood have him feeling a little bit sick to his stomach, but he also felt like . . . he’d failed. And it wasn’t that he was unaccustomed to feeling that way. If anything he’d gotten quite used to it over the years, at least in the classroom setting. But he’d really wanted to impress Clarke’s parents, just to make things easier on her, and he felt like he hadn’t done that._

_“They hated me,” he groaned as she walked him out to his car._

_“No. You just got nervous.”_

_Yeah, he had. He’d actually slipped up once and called the damn president Agent Orange. Oops. “Isn’t that fucked up?” he said. “I can get out on a football field every Friday night, but send me to meet a girl’s parents, and I just crumble under the pressure.”_

_“You didn’t crumble,” she said._

_“No, I did.”_

_“Well . . . maybe just a little,” she admitted. “Why?”_

_“Because . . . football fans like me,” he said, stopping at his truck. “Parents don’t like me.”_

_She frowned, holding both his hands in hers. “Well, I like you,” she said, almost stubbornly. “That’s all that matters.” Tilting her head back, she puckered up for a kiss, and he gave her one, not really too concerned if her parents were looking out the window, watching. He was gonna keep kissing their daughter. He was gonna keep having sex with their daughter. Whether they liked him or not._

****

“Bellamy.”

A man in a side office poked his head out and motioned Bellamy in. He got up, went into the small room, and found himself face to face with the guy who’d called him that morning.

“Carl Emerson. Nice to meet you,” he introduced himself.

They shook hands, and Bellamy said, “Nice to meet you, too,” and then he tacked on, “sir,” just for the heck of it.

“You can call me Emerson,” he said, another one of those people who just went by a last name. Must’ve been an Arkadia thing, because when Bellamy had been out in California, some people he’d met had been too stoned to even remember their last names. Emerson sat down and motioned for Bellamy to do the same. “I’m on a bit of a time crunch today, so we gotta make this quick,” he said. “You ever work construction before?”

“No,” Bellamy admitted. “But I’m willing to learn.”

“Are you a fast learner?”

He knew he wasn’t supposed to lie, but . . . he kind of had to for that one. “Yeah,” he said. As long as Emerson didn’t know any of his former teachers, he’d be fine.

“Good, because we’ve got a lot of projects lined up right now, and we’re on some tight deadlines.”

Bellamy just nodded, feeling like . . . like this guy meant business. He sort of reminded him of his football coach. Very in charge, pretty stern.

“What skills are you gonna bring to my crew?” Emerson asked him. “What can you do for me?”

“Uh, well, I’m strong,” he started in. “I was an athlete all throughout high school, played a year of college football, too. So I’m used to putting in a lot of hard work and being outdoors.”

“What else?”

“Well . . .” He didn’t want to stall too long, so he just said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m good with my hands.” It was technically true. There were plenty of girls who in this town who could attest to that.

“You think you could start tomorrow?” Emerson inquired.

Holy shit, was it really this easy? Was he really scoring himself a job? “Yeah, sure,” he said. But right after the words left his mouth, he remembered that he already had . . . plans. “Oh, wait, uh, tomorrow won’t actually work.”

“It won’t?”

“No, sorry.” He wasn’t trying to be unreliable right from the start, but there was no _way_ his first day could be tomorrow. No way. “My friend has a medical appointment,” he vaguely explained. “I need to go with her.”

Much to his relief, Emerson didn’t push. “Next week then,” he said. “I’ll give you a shot. If you prove you have what it takes, I’ll give you a job.”

A job meant money. Money meant being able to afford his own place and not having to live with his mom forever. So yeah, he was gonna prove he had what it took.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Construction, huh?” Clarke glanced over at Bellamy’s arms, having to fight the urge to salivate. “You’d be good at that.”

“We’ll see,” he said as he turned left out onto the highway that would take them out of town. “I start on Monday.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she said, picturing him out on a construction site. Sweating. Muscles glistening. Looking fine as fuck.

“I could take my shirt off. And work shirtless,” he said, almost as if he were reading her mind. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Shut up.” She whacked his shoulder, not about to admit that she’d _love_ that, but . . . come on, hot construction worker Bellamy? What girl on planet earth _wouldn’t_ love that?

The medical imaging center was pretty easy to find, not too far past Polis. Clarke felt pretty confident that no one out there knew who she was or knew her mom, but even if they did . . . they couldn’t tell her anything, right? Weren’t medical procedures confidential?

They were early, so that meant they had to sit in the waiting room for a while. The only other person there was a woman who looked like she was pretty far along, in her third trimester at least. She was by herself, and she just looked _miserable_. Kept holding her back, groaning in agony, and shifting in her seat uncomfortably. Plus, the poor thing had put on two different shoes. Apparently no one had been around to tell her.

“You know, I had an ultrasound once,” Bellamy blurted, probably to take her attention off that agonized woman.

“You did?” Guys had ultrasounds?

“Yeah. Junior year. I fell off my roof and--”

“Your roof?” she interrupted. “What were you doing on your roof?”

“Making out with some chick,” he said simply. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I fell off, got this huge bruise on the side of my knee. It was all swollen and shit, so the doctor made me get an ultrasound to make sure it wasn’t clotting.”

“Was it?”

“No, it just hurt like a motherfucker for a couple weeks.”

She laughed a little, appreciative of Bellamy’s attempt to . . . lighten the mood. But she’d felt tense about this all morning, and the longer she sat in that waiting room, the more tense she became. “I can’t believe I’m here right now,” she said, embarrassed that she hadn’t been more . . . careful. “I’m supposed to be the smart girl. Responsible. And yet here I am.” Really, she’d done some pretty idiotic things in her life. Not insisting that Finn wear a condom had just been one of them.

“Sometimes things just happen,” Bellamy said. His low, reassuring voice was kind of comforting.

“Yeah, sometimes they do,” she agreed, momentarily losing herself in his dark eyes. Why was he here with her? It wasn’t his job to be here.

“Clarke?”

She whipped her head around when she heard her name. “Hi,” she said, standing up, heading back to the door a nurse—was she a nurse?—was holding open. No, not a nurse. A technician. An ultrasound technician.

“Hello,” the woman said, holding the door open from her.

“Hi. I’m Clarke. This is, um, my friend Bellamy,” she said. “He came with me. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course. Come on back,” the technician said, motioning her to follow. “Let’s take a look at this baby.”

Being back in that actual room was . . . kind of terrifying. Not that anything about it was designed to be scary. The lighting was dim, and everything was clean and smelled nice. The bed that Clarke was instructed to lie back on had a nice little pillow for her head, and all in all, it was very private since they were able to close the door. Bellamy pulled up a chair next to her, and she felt so glad he was there. The only reason it was all so terrifying, though, was because . . . she was about to see a _baby_. In her _belly_. Or at least what was the start of one.

“We are going to try an abdominal ultrasound,” the technician told her. “Sometimes when it’s early on like this, the baby shows up just fine, but other times we can’t get a clear look at it.”

“What then?”

“Well, then we’d have to do a transvaginal ultrasound.”

“Vaginal?” Clarke cringed. “Does that hurt?”

“It’d be a little bit of pressure, nothing more,” the technician assured her. “But let’s find out if we can see the baby this way first.” She lifted up Clarke’s shirt and said, “Just relax. This gel’s gonna be a little cold, but it helps with the transmission of sound waves into your body, and that’s how we see your baby.”

Clarke flinched when she first felt the gel on her stomach. It felt like someone was rubbing slime all over her. Kind of weird.

“Now don’t be alarmed if we don’t see anything,” the technician said once she began to move the handheld device over her stomach. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

_It just means it’s too early to see it_ , Clarke thought, trying to stay calm and keep her breathing even. She closed her eyes for a moment, but that didn’t feel right. If and when that little baby appeared on that screen, she felt like she had to be looking at it.

Opening her eyes, she turned her head to the side to see the screen. There was nothing on there that she could make out yet, and for the first time, she felt afraid that something _wasn’t_ there. Even though she hadn’t been planning on getting pregnant, now that she was . . . she didn’t want anything bad to happen to the baby.

On its own accord, her hand flung out, searching for Bellamy’s, and he grabbed it without hesitation, giving it a supportive squeeze.

“Alright, there’s your uterus,” the technician said as a big black circle came into view. “The black is the amniotic fluid.” Gradually, Clarke saw something else appear on that screen, too, something that was unmistakable. Smiling, the technician said, “And right there in the middle of that is your baby.”

“My baby?” she echoed, in awe of what she was seeing. She really saw it. It wasn’t a very clear image by any means, but . . . it was really there.

“Yep. That’s your baby.”

“Oh my god.” She gripped Bellamy’s hand tighter, and tears stung her eyes.

“There’s the head,” the technician said, pointing everything out on the screen. “There’s the body. And you see that flickering? That’s the heartbeat.”

The tears pooled up even more, threatening to obscure her vision altogether. She blinked, and a few of them fell.

“We can even make out some little arm-buds, and leg-buds. See these two little things right here? Those will become the legs.”

It really wasn’t just a blob anymore then, was it? It was starting to take shape, to form.

“Let’s do a measurement.” Clarke wasn’t sure what the technician was clicking on or typing in, but somehow she ended up drawing a line from one end of the baby to the other. “Yes, you are definitely in your eighth week,” she said. “I’d expect your due date to be in May, towards the start of May. It’s only about the size of a raspberry right now.”

A raspberry? That was so small. How could they even see this much of it when it was still so small?

“Now we’ll listen to the heartbeat.”

“Listen?” She was pretty sure her hand was shaking now, but Bellamy kept a tight hold on it.

“Yeah, that’s always fun.”

Clarke inhaled sharply when she heard the first thud-thud-thud of the baby’s little heart. How could something the size of a raspberry have a beating heart? She didn’t really understand, but . . . she didn’t need to. She heard it.

“Good strong heartbeat,” the technician said. “If we measure it . . . it’s about a hundred and seventy beats per minute. That’s good.”

That sounded like a lot, though, for such a little raspberry. “Isn’t that fast?” she asked, concerned.

“It’s right within the range,” the technician assured her. “One-sixty to one-eighty. That’s what we look for.”

Oh god, it was beating so fast. She couldn’t feel it, but right now, all the way inside her . . . that was happening.

“Congratulations,” the technician said, beaming a smile down at her. “Looks like you’ve got a healthy baby in there.”

She smiled back tearfully, surprised that this had made her feel so . . . emotional. And not in the sad way. For the first time since she’d found out she was pregnant, she actually felt . . . kind of happy. She looked over at Bellamy, and he had a similar look on his face, the awe-struck kind. He didn’t let go of her hand.

When they left, Clarke wasn’t empty-handed. She had two pictures in hand now, sonogram images. One was a close-up picture of the baby, and the other had the peaks of its heartbeats on it, like an EKG. She couldn’t stop staring at them, trying to wrap her mind around what she was seeing.

“You okay?” Bellamy asked her.

She was, but it was hard to describe exactly how she was feeling. “This is surreal,” she said. “Seeing it, hearing the heartbeat . . . it’s just really emotional.”

“Well, yeah, it’s your child,” Bellamy said. “I think it’s supposed to be emotional.”

They stopped at his truck, and she slipped the photos back into the envelope they’d given her. She’d have to put them somewhere safe when she got home, like in a photo album or scrapbook so they wouldn’t get bent. “Thank you so much for coming,” she told him again. “I didn’t wanna do this alone.”

He smiled at her, reaching out to touch her hair, and then he exclaimed, “You’re having a baby!” and swooped her up off her feet, spinning her around. She laughed, holding onto him while she kept hold of the ultrasound images in her hand.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

During the night, Clarke dreamt about the sound of that heartbeat. When she woke up, she felt like she was still hearing it. Gradually, the sound faded as she opened her eyes and became more alert. The first thing she did was look down at her stomach. Not that it looked any different than it had yesterday or last month, even. She felt like she looked a little bloated, but nothing more than that.

But there was a raspberry in there.

She sat up, pushed back the covers, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was about to get up and head into the bathroom—she wasn’t really nauseous or anything, but she still had to pee—when she spotted the envelope on her nightstand, the one with the ultrasound images in it. She opened it, took them out, and gazed at them for a few moments, not quite sure how to feel. Yesterday, she’d felt a range of emotions, everything from excitement to panic. Mostly, though, she’d felt . . . blown away. There was just no other way to describe it.

Today was a different day, though, one that she’d been putting off for a while. Too long, probably. She’d gotten confirmation that she was eight weeks along. That was two months. Now she even had the first images of this baby, and . . .

And she hadn’t told Finn. She hadn’t told the baby’s _father._

Sighing deeply, she set the pictures down in exchange for her phone. His name and number were no longer in her recents list, nor were they in her favorites. She had to scroll down to find him, and when she did . . . it took her a few seconds of sitting there with her thumb hovering over her screen to finally press his name.

It started ringing as she slowly brought her phone up to her ear. That panicked feeling was back as she waited for him to answer. He had to answer, because if his voicemail kicked on, she’d just chicken out.

It must have been about the last ring, but finally he picked up. After fumbling around for a few seconds—probably still in bed himself—he mumbled, “I think you got the wrong number, Clarke.”

“No, I don’t.” He understood why he thought that, though. It’d been about four or five months since she’d called him.

“You mean you actually _wanna_ talk to me?” he said.

No. She didn’t wanna be having this conversation at all. “Actually, I need to see you,” she told him. “Are you at home?”

He groaned. “Yeah.”

Well, there was no backing out now then, was there? He was at home, and it was Saturday, so she didn’t have class or work. She had to do this. “Mind if I stop by?” she asked, feeling like she couldn’t tell him over the phone. This was something they needed to talk about face-to-face.

Finn didn’t seem too keen on the idea of her stopping by, but he sort of grumbled that it was okay as long as it was after lunch. Waiting a couple of hours was painstaking, to the point where she just got fed up with it and left her house at 11:30. She got to his place before noon, parked on the street, and walked up onto his porch. The doorbell didn’t seem to work, so she knocked instead. No one came to answer the door, however, so she had to knock louder. Finally, it opened, and there on the other side was Atom.

“Whoa,” he said, clearly surprised to see her there. “Hey, Clarke.”

“Hey.” She tried not to make a face and wrinkle her nose as she got a whiff of the inside but . . . good god, it smelled awful in there.

“You here to see Finn?” Atom asked.

“Yeah.” She sure as hell wasn’t there to see him or the other roommate, was she?

“Finn!” Atom yelled upstairs, leaving the door hanging open. He dragged himself through the living room and flopped down on the couch, where he and the other guy living there were getting high.

Finn trundled downstairs, at least looking a little more lively than the friends he lived with. “You wanna come upstairs?” he asked Clarke.

“No.” If he thought she was there to fuck, then he was sorely mistaken.

“Let’s go outside then.” He came out onto the porch with her and shut the door.

“God, it reeks in there,” she muttered.

“They like to get high,” he said with a shrug. “So what? It’s no big deal.”

“It smells gross.” She wasn’t trying to be some saint up on her high horse or anything, but she’d just never wanted to engage in recreational drug use. Then again, she’d also had a mom who had lectured her repeatedly about the effects of drugs at a very young age.

“Whatever,” Finn grunted, hopping up onto the porch railing. He sat with one leg up, the other dangling, and asked, “So how’s what’s-his-name?”

“Who? Bellamy?”

“Yeah, him. Is he keeping you . . . busy?”

God, she wished, but even if he had been, that wouldn’t have been Finn’s business. “No, it’s not . . . it’s not like that,” she sputtered. “We’re just . . .” She trailed off, thinking about how his hand had held hers yesterday through every second of that ultrasound.

“Friends?” Finn filled in. “If that’s your story.”

“What, are you, like, trying to slut-shame me or something?”

“No,” he said. “You wanna fuck him, fuck him. Doesn’t matter to me.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a cigarette and a lighter, neither of which she’d ever seen him walk around with before. He sparked it and took a few puffs.

“You smoke now?” she asked disappointedly, waving her hand in the air to try to clear away the smoke.

“Sometimes,” he said. “You wanna try?” He took his cigarette out of his mouth and held it out for her.

_Disgusting_ , she thought, although she took it from him anyway. She wasn’t going to let her little raspberry be around any smoke, so she threw it down on the porch and snuffed it out with the toe of her shoe.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Why are you acting like such a bitch, Clarke?”

“Because you’re acting like a jerk.” He knew she hated secondhand smoke and the smell of weed and everything like that, so this was all really repulsive to her. “I came here to talk to you.”

“About what?” he prompted.

“Not about Bellamy.” She never planned on telling him that her ex-boyfriend had been the one to accompany her to her first ultrasound. That was just something he didn’t need to know.

“What do you wanna talk about then?” he said, starting to sound impatient.

She ran her hands through her short hair, feeling the stress and anxiety start to pile on as she tried to ease her way into telling him. “I don’t really know how to say this,” she admitted.

“Just say it,” he urged as he took another cigarette out of his pocket.

Oh, he wanted her to just say it, did he? Wanted her to just blurt it out? Well, then she wasn’t gonna hold back. “I’m pregnant,” she said as calmly as she could.

He fell silent, and the cigarette slipped from his hand. His face became very pale in an instant, and he got this look of fear in his eyes. “What?” he asked, clearly stunned. “You’re . . .” He glanced down at her stomach, his eyes lingering there for a few seconds before he met hers again in disbelief. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t just think; I know,” she corrected. “I’m pregnant. With your child.”

Immediately, he shook his head. “No, you—you can’t be,” he stammered. “Did you take a test?”

“Yes. And I have an ultrasound to prove it.” There was literally no doubt now. For that reason alone, she was almost glad she’d waited.

“But we—we haven’t been together since . . .” He trailed off, clearly mulling it over.

“I’m two months along,” she informed him. “Do the math, Finn.”

Although he wasn’t a math whiz, that math was within his capabilities. “How do I know it’s mine?” he growled, sounding a bit angry now.

“Because I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” There was no doubt about that, either.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes!” What kind of question was that? Of course she was. “I wouldn’t lie about this.”

He rubbed his face with his hands, and she wondered if he was trying to conceal some tears. Standing up, he nearly shouted, “Why the hell would you just spring this on me?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she confessed.

“How long have you known?”

She looked down at her feet, a bit ashamed that it’d taken her so long, and mumbled, “A couple weeks.”

“A couple _weeks_?” he spat out. “Shit, Clarke. What am I supposed to . . .” He trailed off, some very clear and obvious tears in his eyes, and he just looked at her with complete panic on his face. “What’re you gonna do?” he asked her.

She shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

“You know.”

_No. No._ She didn’t want to even go there. It was too heavy, too much for her, especially now that she’d had her first ultrasound.

She didn’t even want to think about the question, but he actually went ahead and asked it: “Are you gonna have the baby?”

For a second, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Yes, I’m gonna . . .” For some reason, maybe since they were in their twenties, she hadn’t expected that question. “Yeah, I’m having this baby,” she said shakily.

“Sorry,” he said, “just had to ask.”

Question answered then. She didn’t ever want him to ask again. “We’re gonna have to figure something out,” she told him.

It seemed that he was doing some figuring all on his own, though—she could practically see the wheels of his very blindsided mind just spinning—and when his head shot up, he said, “What about adoption?”

For some reason, that made her touch her stomach.

“Think about it,” he urged. “You know how many couples out there—married couples—wanna have a kid but can’t? Lots of babies get adopted.”

“And the ones who don’t end up in foster care,” she pointed out, dreading the thought. “Like you did.”

Finn gulped, but he didn’t say anything. Clarke didn’t want to say any more about it, either, because his experience for the first eighteen years of his life had been . . . turbulent to say the least. He’d bounced around from home to home, never quite able to find a family. She didn’t want that for her child. “I can’t . . . I can’t be pregnant for nine months just to give it up, Finn,” she said. “I can’t do that.”

“Well, what’re we gonna do then?” he demanded. “Because I’m not ready to be a dad.”

“And you think I’m ready to be a mom?” she screeched. “I’m just as freaked out as you are.” She was the one who actually had another living being growing inside her. She was the one whose body was going to change and who was going to have to give birth.

“But you just sprung this on me,” he snapped.

“What, you think it was easy for me to sit in my bathroom all alone and take a pregnancy test?” Since they weren’t together anymore, she had no other way to tell him other than to do it like this. It was going to be sprung no matter what. “You think I _wasn’t_ freaked out?”

“I think . . .” He pointed an accusatory finger at her and snarled, “I think you knew this was gonna happen.”

“ _What?_ ” Now he wasn’t even making any sense.

“You wanted us to be together,” he said, his voice lower now. “You were pissed I didn’t wanna move in with you, so you hooked up with me that night on purpose. You probably weren’t even on birth control, were you?”

She hadn’t been, but that was just a mistake. “I was late with my shot . . .”

“See?”

“But I didn’t _plan_ anything. I didn’t try to trap you,” she fought back. “I didn’t want this, either, but it happened, so we . . . we have to deal with it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know!” What did he expect, for her to have all the answers?

“Well, I gave you an idea,” he reminded her, flapping his arms against his sides. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I just . . . I guess I was just hoping I’d tell you, and you’d tell me everything’s gonna be alright.” She needed assurance right now, not anger.

“Well, it might not be.”

She huffed, shocked that he couldn’t manage to be even a little bit supportive or reassuring. “You know, I realize you just found out, but . . . this is really not what I need right now. This baby has a heartbeat, Finn. I heard it yesterday.” She got teary-eyed just thinking about it. “It’s there, and—and it wasn’t just my fault. We did this together. We have to deal with it together.”

“No, I can’t—I can’t deal with it,” he decided, his shoulder knocking against hers as he walked around her and practically fled back into his house. She heard the door lock into place, a clear signal that she was supposed to stay out.

“Finn!” she yelled, but it was no use. He wasn’t coming back out; they weren’t going to keep talking about this. He’d pretty much just shut down the entire conversation, even though it was one they needed to have.

Feeling helpless, shoulders slumping in defeat, she stared at that closed door and tried not to cry. She hadn’t necessarily expected a good reaction, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to jump for joy or anything. But this had been . . . a lot. More than she’d been bracing herself for.

She thought about going home, but that just seemed lonely. She also thought about going to her mom’s place, but since it was the weekend, she and Kane were probably out doing something. There was always Raven, whom she also still needed to tell, or Harper or even Lexa. Of course all three of them would react more favorably than Finn had, but after telling him, she really didn’t feel like dropping the baby bombshell on anyone else today. Luckily for her, she had one friend who already knew.

Somehow, she managed to hold herself together as she drove over to Bellamy’s. She didn’t cry, even though Finn’s words were still ringing in her head. She was actually pretty proud of herself for holding it together and being strong.

The door was open, so she just walked in and called, “Hello?” No response, but since his car was there, she felt confident that he would be. She stepped around a laundry basket in the hallway and made her way back to his room. “Bellamy?” she said, knocking on the door lightly as she opened it.

He was at his computer, watching a video, but he paused it when she came in. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey. The door was unlocked, so I just came in. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine.” He spun his chair around and looked at her curiously.

“What’re you doing?” she asked him.

“Oh, uh . . . watching construction videos on YouTube,” he explained. “I wanna look like I know what the hell I’m doin’ on Monday.”

_And I interrupted_ , she thought, feeling like a burden.

“What’s up?” he asked her.

“Nothing. I just . . . I wanted to come see you.” She made her way into his room, struck by the familiarity of it all. It looked almost exactly the same as it used to, except that he’d now pushed his bed over by the window, freeing up more space in the room. It was just a twin bed, so they’d always ended up being so scrunched up on it. She couldn’t help but think about the fact that she’d lost her virginity in that bed as she sat down on it. “Do you remember how I used to fall asleep here?” she asked, running her hands over his bedspread.

“Yeah.” He got out of his chair and came to sit down beside her. “Your parents got mad.”

“They tried to ground me,” she recalled.

“Didn’t work.”

“Nope.” God, that’d been such a good year. She’d probably never been more rebellious, but she’d never been quite so carefree, either.

“Clarke.”

She looked him right in the eye, seeing concern all over his face.

“Are you okay?” The way he asked the question made her feel . . . comfortable. So at ease. Like she could tell him anything. And that was probably why she’d wanted to see him.

“Not really,” she admitted. “I, uh . . . I just talked to Finn. Went over to his place.” Her bottom lip quivered with all the emotion that she’d been holding in while she’d driven over here. “I told him about the baby,” she revealed. “It didn’t really go so well.”

Scooting a bit closer to her, Bellamy asked, “What’d he say?”

“Well . . . first he asked if it was his.” She rolled her eyes. “And then he told me I should . . .” She couldn’t say it. She just couldn’t say those words right now. So she didn’t. “Then he mentioned adoption, but I told him I don’t think I can do that. And he said he thinks I did this on purpose. He didn’t even believe me when I told him I didn’t. I didn’t plan anything.”

“Don’t worry, Clarke,” he said, putting one hand on her back, rubbing it gently up and down her spine, “you don’t have to convince anyone of that.”

She snorted. “Well, apparently I have to convince him.” If he thought that she’d been trying to trap him, then it was possible other people would, too. He could spread that rumor, and there would be people who believed him. “And when I tried to get him to calm down and help me deal with it, he just . . . he just ran away from me,” she said, feeling the tears brimming, like a dam about to burst, “and he . . . I guess he doesn’t wanna deal with it.” She thought about where that left her, dealing with everything alone, and a giant sob just tore through her body, causing her whole torso to shake and crumple forward. She clamped one hand over her mouth, a pitiful attempt at holding her sadness in, but now that she was letting it out . . . there was no containing it.

Bellamy didn’t hesitate to put his arms around her, both of them, and pull her in close to hug her. “Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay.” One hand held her tightly around the small of her back, and the other smoothed over her shuddering shoulders. His voice was a low whisper in her ear when he reassured her, “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

She really wasn’t sure, though, if it would be. And there was no way he could be sure, either. In the back of her mind, she knew that everything was still _very_ much up in the air, so she kept crying. But crying in Bellamy’s arms made her feel just the slightest bit better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Trying to resume watching the construction videos was pointless. Bellamy let a few of them play out, and he sat at his desk and _sort of_ listened and _sort of_ watched. But he found himself watching Clarke more than anything else. About half an hour ago, she’d lain down in his bed and fallen asleep. Crying seemed to have taken a lot out of her, so he’d pulled a blanket up over her and was content to just let her rest.

****

_“Don’t look yet.” Clarke sounded so excited as she led Bellamy down the hallway. “Don’t look.”_

_“I’d rather just look at you anyway,” he flirted, tempted to sneak a peek at her to see if that’d gotten her to blush. But she’d pounced on him in the parking lot and told him that she had a surprise for him, and he’d agreed to keep his eyes shut._

_“Okay,” she said as she slowed them to a stop, “you can look now.”_

_He opened his eyes and found himself at his locker. “Whoa,” he said, taking in the new look of it. It was usually just a plain old red thing, but now it had drawings on it and green and white balloons, and even a collage of some action shots of him that had ended up in the newspaper. There were bubble letters that spelled his name,_ Go Rockets, _and his number. “It looks like a cheerleader threw up on my locker,” he joked. “Look at all this school spirit.”_

_“Do you like it?” she asked._

_“Yeah, I do.” It was a lot, but as he looked around at the other guys’ lockers, he noticed that they all had decorations on them, too._

_“Good, ‘cause I put some work into this,” she said. “Every cheerleader picked a player’s locker, and I made sure I got yours.”_

_He smirked when he spotted_ ‘#7 looks like he fell from heaven’ _at the bottom of the door. Catchy. “This stuff’s cool, Clarke,” he said. “Mine looks the best.” He bent down and took a closer look at a drawing she’d done, sort of a caricature version of him and her. She had on her cheerleading outfit, he had on his jersey, and they were standing in the end zone, kissing. “This is good motivation right here,” he said. “I win the game, I get this?”_

_“You win the game, you get more than that,” she told him._

_“Oh, now we’re talking.” He grabbed her waist, pulling her to him, and kissed her. She laughed against his lips. She sounded so happy._

****

Bellamy stared at the girl in his bed as the sound of her laughter rang out in his mind. He’d heard it yesterday, and a lot of times in high school. But not today. Today, he’d just heard sobs.

He really wished he could make her feel better.

There was no way he could take her mind off of everything she was dealing with—even right now, she was probably dreaming about it—but he felt like he could at least try to put a smile on her face. He abandoned the construction videos, exiting out of YouTube altogether, and he quietly got up and headed out to the kitchen.

Cooking wasn’t exactly his forte, because really, only sex and football were his fortes; but he wasn’t completely clueless in the kitchen, either. He wanted to try to make her some homemade macaroni and cheese, but he didn’t trust that it would turn out tasting right. So he went ahead and made the stuff out of the box instead. Clarke loved macaroni and cheese. Whenever he’d taken her out to eat, no matter what the restaurant, she’d always checked the kids menu to see if it was offered, and whenever it was, she’d ordered it.

Because he put a little too much milk in, it ended up being a bit watery, so he let it thicken up for about ten minutes, then scooped an ample amount into a bowl and brought it into the bedroom. She was stirring when he walked in, rubbing her eyes before opening them. “Bellamy?” she said. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About an hour,” he told her, shutting the door.

“Oh.” She looked from side to side, and upon noticing that she was occupying all of his bed, she apologized, “I’m sorry,” and sat up.

“No, you’re fine.” He sat down on the side of the mattress and held out the bowl for her. “Here, I made you some food. Your favorite.”

He did get that smile out of her. Just the appreciative kind, but it was something. “Thanks,” she said, taking the bowl from him. She dug the fork in, took a bite, and nodded her head in approval. “Very good,” she said.

It looked good, and truth be told, he was kind of hungry himself. But if she wanted seconds, he’d go get her seconds. He’d made it for her. “Are your taste buds out of whack?” he inquired. “Are you craving anything yet?”

She shook her head as she swallowed another bite. “Not really craving, but . . . yeah, some of the things I normally eat don’t sound very good right now. But macaroni still does.”

“What about pizza?” She liked that, too.

Shrugging, she replied, “Sounds okay.”

Just _okay?_ That was a change. “Burgers?” he asked.

“Meh.”

“Tacos?”

“ _No_ ,” she said emphatically.

“No?” He remembered her devouring his mom’s tacos one time, and insisting they stop at Taco Bell on the way home from prom.

“No,” she repeated. “That’s sad, isn’t it? Even tacos sound gross right now.”

“Man, that’s gotta feel weird.” He couldn’t imagine having things that had once smelled and tasted so good sounding disgusting now. But it wasn’t like she really had a choice. Her body was going to do what it was going to do.

“It all feels weird,” she said, lowering her head, staring almost forlornly at . . . nothing. Not the food in front of her, not the blanket on her lap. Not him. She looked . . . kind of lost. And he hated seeing her look that way.

Clarke did polish off that bowl of macaroni, but she wasn’t hungry enough for another one. He went out to the kitchen and ate the rest of himself, and then he went ahead and did the dishes so his mom could just try to relax when she got home. Although it wasn’t like he was doing anything strenuous, he walked back into his bedroom feeling like . . . like he just wanted to lie down, too. Like he just wanted to lie down with Clarke, who had turned over on her side and fallen back asleep, right there in his bed with his Baltimore Ravens blanket draped over her.

_Maybe I shouldn’t_ , he pondered as he neared the edge of the bed. Clarke had made it clear that they could only be friends right now, and he’d agreed to it. He really did want to respect her decision, but . . . he also wanted to be there for her, because he felt like she needed him.

Carefully, he lay down on the bed, moving in close behind her, spooning his body against hers. He lifted the blanket up enough to get underneath it, and though she stirred a little bit, she didn’t wake up. When he slipped one arm underneath her head and draped the other over her waist, her body didn’t tense up in the slightest. It stayed perfectly calm and relaxed, her breathing steady. She kept sleeping, and he closed his eyes so he could just lie there with her, completely still and perfectly content with his ex-girlfriend in his arms.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12_

It was late when Clarke woke up in Bellamy’s bed. _Really_ late. But she was so warm and so comfortable that she didn’t want to move. His arms were around her, and they were snuggling, and . . . for a second, it just felt like old times.

Since it was completely dark outside, she lifted her head up and glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on his nightstand. 2:33 in the morning. She’d been there for over twelve hours, and she’d spent the majority of that time just crashed out on his bed, taking up half the space of what was not a huge mattress to begin with.

_Friends don’t cuddle like this_ , she reminded herself, so despite how cozy she felt in the moment, she forced herself up and out of bed. Bellamy moved around a little, but he didn’t wake up. Probably for the best. He’d try to convince her to stay the whole night, and that probably wasn’t the wisest idea.

As she crept out into the hallway, trying to be as quiet as a mouse, she heard a voice come from the living room. “No need to be quiet,” Aurora said. She sat in front of the TV, sewing something. A skirt, perhaps. When she wasn’t working at the hotel, she mended clothes for people, and apparently that was something she did in the a.m. hours if she had to. Glancing up from her task, she told Clarke, “I saw your car outside.”

She supposed she really hadn’t stood a chance of sneaking out then. Not that there was any reason to sneak at all. She and Bellamy hadn’t been doing anything X-rated. “I’m not doing the walk of shame, I promise,” she said. “I just fell asleep here this afternoon and . . . Bellamy and I were just sleeping.” Feeling the need to clarify, she added on, “Not together.” But that wasn’t exactly true, so she stumbled over some more words in an effort to explain. “Well, I mean, we _were_ sleeping together, but . . . like the actual sleeping kind of sleeping.”

Aurora shook he head, laughing at her rambling. “It’s late,” she said. “You can stay.”

She’d already stayed a lot later than she’d intended to when she’d come over. It was supposed to have just been a quick visit to let Bellamy know she’d told Finn, but one the waterworks had burst, it was like she’d become almost catatonic. “No, I should really go home,” she said. “I never meant to stay so long.”

Aurora didn’t push anything. She never did. “Okay,” she said as she resumed sewing. “Well, drive safe.”

“I will,” Clarke promised. “Bye.” She waved goodbye to Bellamy’s mom, then scurried for the door. God, how was it that, even at twenty-two years old, she was still getting caught slipping out of Bellamy’s bedroom? Even though they hadn’t even been kissing, it was still embarrassing.

On her way home from Bellamy’s house, she found herself waking up, not really feeling all that tired on account of the plethora of sleep she’d gotten. The fact that it was so late did not stop her from diverting from her route home and taking a turn that led her to Raven and Murphy’s apartment instead. More than likely, they were fast asleep, and if she went to their door and knocked on it, she’d be waking them up in the middle of the night. Murphy could go back to sleep, but Raven . . . she and Raven were long overdue for a pretty serious conversation.

Pushing aside any reservations she had, she went to their door, knocked, waited, and then knocked a bit more loudly. She heard shuffling sounds on the other side, followed by the sound of a turning lock. When the door opened, there stood Raven in plaid shorts and her sports bra. “Clarke,” she said, squinting against the light coming in from the hallway. “What’re you doing here? It’s late.”

Clarke touched her stomach for a moment, wondering if the baby’s heartbeat sped up whenever hers did. Because whenever it came time to tell someone, her heart just pounded like a drum in her chest. “I need to talk to you,” she said quietly, hoping her friend would be able to go back to sleep after this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy’s back and shoulders felt stiff when he woke up. He hadn’t moved around much, because he hadn’t wanted to disturb . . .

_Clarke?_ At first, he felt around for her, but when it became clear that she wasn’t lying beside him anymore, he opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of an empty mattress. Just him in his bed. The girl he’d fallen asleep holding onto was gone.

He sat up, propping himself on his forearm, and spotted a small piece of paper on the pillow she’d rested her head on. It was folded in half, and his name was scrawled on the outside in fancy handwriting that would have taken him hours to do. He opened it, and on the inside were two simple words: _Thank you._

He smiled, his eyes lingering on that paper, hoping he’d been able to comfort her in some way. Clarke was a good girl. She didn’t deserve all this shit.

Although it was earlier than he would have liked, he still got up out of bed and trudged out into the hall. He noticed that his mom had fallen asleep on the couch, a needle and thread still in her hand, so he took those from her, set them down on the coffee table, and covered her up with an afghan. She had to be at work by 9:00, but she could still rest for a couple more hours.

After that, he went into the bathroom and got into the shower. He hadn’t taken one yesterday, so the fact that Clarke had even wanted to cuddle up with him was really something. He ran some shampoo through his hair, scrubbed his pits and his junk, and then just stood there underneath the steady stream of warm water that was slowly growing colder. He could wash up for the day, but he couldn’t wash off the feel of her next to him last night. In fact, it was gonna be hard falling asleep tonight, imagining her alone in that big queen-sized bed of hers, wishing he could be there with her.

It used to be so much easier to help her out. But nowadays, things were complicated.

****

_“Parent/teacher conferences,” Bellamy said as he and Clarke walked out of the school building and to the parking lot, hands linked. “You know what that means?”_

_“No football practice?” she guessed._

_“No football practice.” He hadn’t left the school right after the bell rang all year so far. It felt pretty weird. “We should do something fun,” he suggested._

_“Each other?” she proposed._

_“For starters.” God, he loved the way this girl’s mind worked._

_“Does your mom go to conferences?” she asked as they veered into the parking lot._

_He almost laughed at that. “No. She’d just hear the same thing from everyone. Popular kid, shitty grades, can’t read to save his life.”_

_“You can read,” she said._

_“Not really.” He squeezed in between two cars, heading towards hers. “What about your parents? Are they gonna go?”_

_“My dad will,” she replied. “My mom’s working.”_

_“What’s he gonna hear?”_

_“Oh, the same thing from everyone. Nice girl, good grades . . . a little too distracted lately by Bellamy Blake.”_

_“I distract you, huh?” He liked that._

_“Constantly.” They stopped at her car, and she leaned in against him, like she wanted to kiss him or something. He gladly would have obliged had she not become distracted by something on the side of her car, right near the door handle. “What is this?” she said, running her hands over some scrapes there._

_“What?” He couldn’t tell what she was looking at until she pulled her hand back, revealing four letters that had been keyed into her car. Four letters that spelled out the word_ slut.

_“Who did that?” he said, more to himself than to her. Obviously she didn’t know. But whoever it was didn’t know what the hell they were talking about._

_“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe . . .” She looked around, and her eyes landed on someone behind his back. He turned around, and standing one row away were Bree and two of her friends, watching them. Bree was twirling her keys in her hands and had a satisfied smirk on her face._

_“It’s not that big of a deal,” Clarke said._

_No, it was, though. Nobody in that school would have the balls to key_ his _vehicle, to come at him the way Bree was coming at Clarke. Bree was just jealous he wasn’t paying any attention to her anymore, even though they’d never been anything serious. Bree had to put Clarke down to lift herself up. She was a bitch._

_Leaving Clarke standing at her car, Bellamy marched right over to Bree and asked, “Mind if I borrow these?” He grabbed her keys out of her hand without waiting for an answer and headed a few spaces down to where his own truck was parked. Right on the driver’s side door, he keyed the exact same words that now marked Clarke’s car. S-L-U-T. They keys made a horrible sound against the metal, one that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but once he was done, he nodded his head in approval and brought Bree’s keys back to her. She just stared at him with this dumbfounded look on her face._

_Similarly, Clarke looked a bit surprised when he walked back over to her. “If you’re a slut, I’m a slut, too,” he said with an unabashed shrug. Climbing into the passenger’s seat, he decided he was more than willing to ride home with her. “Let’s go,” he said, already conjuring up a whole lot of ‘slutty’ things they could do together this afternoon._

****

When the water got too cold, Bellamy shut it off and just stood there with his hands pressed against the tile, trying to resist the urge to reach down and jerk himself off, thinking of Clarke the whole time. He didn’t wanna be that type of guy, the kind who was so focused on sex that he couldn’t think about anything else. Clarke needed him right now, as a friend. So that was what he needed to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Having already told Raven the news, Clarke’s next logical step was to tell Harper. She invited both of them over for lunch, but they didn’t even end up eating everything. Instead, they sat down at the table, and Clarke told her other close friend everything.

At first, Harper was speechless. Either she didn’t know what to say or didn’t know how to say it. Raven had had a similar reaction, so Clarke knew she just had to wait out the stunned silence.

Finally, Harper managed some words. “Oh my god,” she said in astonishment. “So you’re . . . you’re really . . .”

“Pregnant, yes,” Clarke filled in. She had to get used to saying the word, because she’d be saying it and thinking about it for months to come. She was still only in her first trimester, after all.

“When did you find out?” Harper asked.

“A little over two weeks ago,” she replied.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Raven quickly jumped in and said, “Don’t worry, I just found out, too.”

“I was keeping it a secret until I told Finn,” Clarke said. She really hadn’t meant to tell _anyone_ , but then Bellamy had come back all bearded and sexier than ever, and what with the sleeping with him and everything . . . she’d sort of owed him an explanation.

“Oh god, Finn,” Harper said. “How’d _he_ react?”

Clarke looked down at her lap, almost embarrassed that it’d been such a shit show. Maybe there had been a way to handle it better.

“Oh, well, don’t worry, Clarke, I’m sure he’ll . . . he’ll come around,” Harper assured her. “He just needs a little more time to process everything.”

“It _is_ a lot to process,” Raven said. She’d stayed up with Clarke until 4:00 a.m. last night, just talking about everything, being a good best friend. Clarke was so relieved that both of her closest friends knew now. It was like the weight of keeping it a secret was slowly being lifted from her shoulders.

“So how’d it happen?” Harper inquired.

Sensing an opportunity to lighten the mood, Clarke said, “Well, Harper, a girl’s vagina is like a garden, and a boy’s penis is like a snake. Now when his snake gets in her garden . . .”

Harper rolled her eyes. “No, I know _how_ , but . . . I thought you guys broke up at the start of summer.”

“We did,” Clarke confirmed, nodding. Yet another thing she was feeling embarrassed about was the _way_ this baby had been conceived. “We made up. For one night.”

“Oh,” Harper said. “ _Oh_. Well, that’s okay. My parents conceived me on their fourth date in the backseat of my dad’s car.”

“Yeah, and my biological mom and dad barely knew each other,” Raven put in. “Hence my adoption.”

That word triggered something in Clarke, part of her conversation with her ex. “Finn told me I should put the baby up for adoption,” she said. She and Raven had talked about many things last night, but not that.

“Would you do that?” Raven asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Sure, it’d worked out for Raven, and she and her dad Sinclair were like two peas in a pod. But it hadn’t worked out for Finn, and to be honest, she was surprised he’d even suggest it after all the foster homes he’d been through. “No, I . . . I know it’s a good thing, and it can really work out like it did for you,” she said, “but . . . I just can’t.” She almost felt like she didn’t even have the right to pass such a huge responsibility as raising a child off onto someone else. Choices had consequences, and . . . there were consequences to the choice she’d made.

“That’s understandable,” Harper said. “And you’re twenty-two. You’re an adult. You have this beautiful house. You can do this.”

“On my own, most likely,” she grumbled. If yesterday’s talk with Finn had been any indicator . . .

“You won’t be on your own,” Raven said, standing up. She walked behind Clarke and hugged her.

Harper did the same, adding, “You have us.”

Clarke smiled as both her friends embraced her, making her feel loved and supported and not quite as terrified as she could have been. She was very grateful for them, but the sad fact was, there were limits to how far their support could go. Having friends wasn’t the same as having a partner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Flowers all pretty much looked the same to Bellamy. He couldn’t really tell one type apart from the next. So when he entered the flower shop on main street, he had no idea what he was doing. The florist asked him what he was looking for, and he had no idea, so she asked him who he was getting flowers for. He just said, “A girl,” and she smiled and said, “Oh, I see.” It didn’t matter that that girl could have been his mom or his sister—it wasn’t—but that seemed to be all the info the florist needed to direct him to some pale pink flowers that she called peonies. He took a smell of one of them and said, “These are nice. I’ll take a bouquet.” She did her thing and arranged it for him, put a couple white ones in there to give it a little diversity, and it looked nice. But when she told him how much it was going to cost, he nearly choked on his own spit. Sixty-seven bucks for a bouquet of flowers? He couldn’t afford that. They ended up making the bouquet smaller, and he got out of there paying only thirty-four dollars instead.

That evening, he drove over to Clarke’s house, hoping she was at home and not working. If she was at the bar, he’d go surprise her, give the flowers to her there. No special occasion, really. He just wanted to do something to put a smile on her face. The macaroni and cheese he’d made yesterday just wasn’t enough.

His phone rang when he was only about a minute away, and as if by fate, it was Clarke’s name on the screen. “Hey, perfect timing,” he answered.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about you.” He turned onto her street.

“I was thinking about you, too,” she said.

“Oh, yeah? Dirty thoughts?” he couldn’t help but tease.

“No, the innocent kind.”

_Damn_. Well, he was thinking enough dirty thoughts for the both of them then, because . . . he had ended up jacking off in the shower, and he’d pretended his hand was hers.

“I was just . . . I was thinking about how lucky I’ve been to have you back,” she went on. “These past couple weeks . . . you’ve just been amazing. I don’t know how I would have gotten through all this without you.”

He pulled up outside her house, shut the car off, and picked up the bouquet. “Just trying to do whatever I can to help.”

“You have helped,” she said. “You’ve helped a lot. Just being with you yesterday, being able to cry and let it all out . . . you have no idea how much I needed that.”

“I wanna be there for you.” He got out of the car, flowers in hand, and took one more whiff of them. Yeah, they still smelled pretty good. He’d never really been the type to get a girl flowers, but Clarke deserved them, especially with everything she was going through. “I care about you, you know?” 

“I know,” she said. “But I finally told Raven and Harper, so now you won’t have to deal with me so much.”

About to head up to her front door, he froze. “What?” What did she mean by that?

“Yeah, you can go back to living your own life instead of worrying so much about mine,” she said. “You don’t have to be the one to help me through all of this anymore.”

He frowned, not sure why she would make it sound like she’d been such a burden. He _liked_ being there for her; he liked helping her out. Not that he expected her to keep it a secret from anyone else, nor did he want her to. It was good that she’d told Finn, good that she’d told her friends. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still talk to him about it, that she couldn’t cry to him about it if she needed to. He was more than willing to go with her to her next doctor’s appointment if she didn’t want to be alone, but . . .

But she wasn’t alone now. So maybe . . . maybe that meant that _he_ was.

“Bellamy?”

He lowered the bouquet, feeling like he shouldn’t go give that to her now. “Yeah, I’m here.” He was _literally_ here, at her house, thinking he’d go ring her doorbell and surprise her with these stupid flowers. Like flowers would be enough to get her mind off of everything else.

“I just wanted to thank you again,” she said. “For everything.”

For what? He felt like he hadn’t even done that much. Not as much as he could have done, at least. “No problem,” he said, opening the car door again.

“Goodnight.”

Inwardly, he winced as he said that word. “Goodnight.” He waited until she ended the call to lower his phone from his ear. Then he tossed the bouquet back into his car, watching them land uselessly on the passenger’s seat. What a dumb idea.

He got back in the car, started it up, and drove off, figuring he could still give the flowers to his mom. She’d probably know he’d meant them for Clarke, but she’d still like them anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day was a rude awakening for Clarke. Her doorbell rang out shrilly, and only seconds later, it rang out again. It kept going and going, and it was annoying as fuck. Sometimes little kids came around selling stuff for school and all their activities, and if she had the misfortune of answering the door for one of them, she usually felt obligated to buy whatever they were selling, even if it wasn’t anything she actually wanted.

She sat up and pressed a button on her remote to flip on the TV and see who was standing out there. Kane had insisted on a great home security system when she had moved into this house by herself, and it was pretty handy, though she hardly ever remembered to use it. The images through that outside camera were always a little blurry, but it was plain to see that the annoying kid on her porch was Finn.

She got up and flew downstairs while the doorbell continued to ring. He wasn’t even taking breaks in between anymore. It was just one ring right after another. He’d probably break the damn thing. When she finally opened the door, he came right inside and blurted, “We need to talk.”

They did, and the fact that he’d shown up here on his own perhaps boded well. But she didn’t want to get her hopes up. “We needed to talk Saturday, but you slammed a door in my face,” she reminded him as he came inside.

“I was freaking out, alright? I needed to calm down.”

Closing the door, she surveyed him, the bags under his eyes, the clearly unwashed hair, the early signs of stubble from not shaving for a couple days. “Are you calm now?” she asked skeptically. “‘cause you don’t look very calm.”

He paced around her living room for a few seconds, then stopped, put his hands on his waist, and said, “I wanna see the ultrasound.”

She lowered her head for a moment, feeling bad that she hadn’t let him know prior to having that done. She’d went ahead and saw the first images of the baby without him, heard its heart beat for the first time without him by her side. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” she said, heading towards the kitchen. She’d put the pictures up on the refrigerator, just because she didn’t know where else to put them. Pushing the magnet aside, she took the images off and brought them to him. “You can come to the next one,” she told him.

He stared at the photos in disbelief, shaking his head as he took in the beginning of what would become a baby. _Their_ baby. “Who went with you to this one?” he asked her. “Your mom?”

“No, I . . .” She wasn’t about to tell him that her _other_ ex-boyfriend had gone with her, so she quietly lied, “I went alone.” What Finn didn’t know about her and Bellamy right now wouldn’t hurt him.

“Holy shit,” he swore, shaking his head in astonishment. “And you say you’re two months along?”

“Eight weeks. Almost nine now.” She felt like she was going to start showing soon. Hopefully not noticeably, but it’d probably be the kind of weight gain where people didn’t know if she was pregnant or just getting fat.

Finn looked at the photos a little more, then handed them back to her and growled, “I want a paternity test.”

A . . . “ _What?_ ” she shrieked. When he’d said they’d needed to talk, she’d assumed he’d meant talking about what to do next, not . . .

“I just wanna know if it’s mine,” he said.

“Well, I’m telling you, it is.” There was no paternity to test. He was the one and only option. Plain and simple.

“I wanna be sure.”

He wasn’t raising his voice or getting mad, but the things he was saying still made _her_ mad. Not only was he insinuating that she may have slept with someone else, but he was casting doubt on her character in the process. “I’m _not_ lying!” she yelled at him.

“I just wanna know.”

“You know! You know because I’m telling you! You’re supposed to believe me!” Open-mouth, she grunted incredulously, shocked that he didn’t feel like he could trust her. Or maybe . . . maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe it was something else. “But you don’t wanna believe me, do you?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “You’re so desperate to be off the hook here that you can’t even step up and take responsibility.”

“I don’t think I’m asking for much,” he said.

“A paternity test? Are you serious, Finn?” That was like Maury Povich stuff. It was ridiculous.

“I can cover the cost, at least half of it upfront,” he volunteered. “I’ll have to save up for the other half.”

“Oh, you’ve already looked up the cost?” She snorted. “Unbelievable.” That meant he’d done his research, that he’d come over here today bound and determined to demand this. “Fine, you know what? We’ll do a fucking paternity test,” she decided, just so he wouldn’t have any reason to doubt her claims anymore. “And when you find out this baby’s yours, maybe you’ll have the decency to apologize.”

He didn’t apologize even now, though, for upsetting her, offending her. All he had to say was that he was sorry but thought this was for the best. Something. Anything. But he gave her nothing as he walked right back out that door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke called in sick to work that afternoon. She wasn’t sick, not really. Sick to her heart, maybe, but physically, she actually felt alright. No morning sickness. It was pretty sporadic lately. Sometimes she felt fine, and other times she felt like crap. Today, the only thing that had made her feel like crap was her conversation with Finn.

Luckily for her, when she asked Raven to stop by after work, her friend didn’t hesitate. She showed up, apologized for smelling like a greasy mechanic, and asked how she was doing. Clarke told her all about Finn’s insistence on a paternity test, and Raven talked her down from how upset she’d been feeling all day and got her to think logically. Of course Finn wanted a paternity test. If he was going to help pay for things, he wanted to make sure he was paying for a baby that was actually his. Clarke was still pissed that he didn’t believe her, and she suspected she might always be. But Raven got her to understand that it wasn’t _so_ unbelievable that he’d make such a demand.

They sat on the couch, each of them looking up information on their phones. Clarke had only looked up a few things today, but she’d had to quit when she read that amniocentesis harbored a small risk of miscarriage.

Fortunately, Raven found another option. “Okay, it looks like the non-invasive prenatal paternity test is gonna be your best bet,” she declared.

“Non-invasive,” Clarke echoed. “That sounds good.” That didn’t sound like miscarriage would be a concern.

“It’s ninety-nine percent accurate, kind of a newer method,” Raven went on. She scrolled on her phone, reading, and relayed the information to Clarke. “They just collect blood from you and a cheek swab from Finn, and then they analyze it.”

That sounded so simple, almost too simple. “How does that work?”

“Well, the baby’s DNA is already in your bloodstream,” Raven explained. “It says it can be done any time after the eighth week.”

_In my bloodstream_ , Clarke thought. _Wow_. “How much is it?” she asked.

“It says anywhere from $700 to $1000,” Raven said, cringing. “But some other sites I looked at said it could be more.”

Great, she probably couldn’t afford that without some help from her mom then. She didn’t quite believe Finn when he said he’d be able to cover half the cost upfront.

Setting her phone down, she slouched back on the couch and lamented, “What did I ever see in him, Raven?” She felt like such an idiot.

“A cute guy,” Raven said, setting her phone down, too. “A rebound from Lexa.”

She shook her head. “He wasn’t a rebound. Lexa and I ended on good terms.” Truth be told, she’d never really understood what Finn had been to her. First, there had been Bellamy, and that had been . . . well, at the time, it’d felt like everything. And then years later, with Lexa . . . that had been real and serious, too. But with Finn . . . they used to say ‘I love you,’ and part of her _did_ love parts of him as a person, despite what a huge jerk he’d been lately. But she’d never quite felt that spark of being _in_ love with him. Ever.

“You wanna know what I think?” Raven said, giving Clarke a serious look.

She nodded, eager to get the perspective of someone she trusted implicitly.

Raven folded her legs up underneath herself and said, “Okay, I’m gonna be honest with you. You dated Bellamy, had this amazing year of high school. And then after that, you were single for a while.”

“For two years.” Junior and senior year had been so much different than her sophomore one.

“Yeah, and when you finally started dating again, it was with a girl. Quite the change,” Raven went on. “But when that ended, you found Finn. And I’m not saying you didn’t like him, because I know you did. Sometimes. And you were with him for a really long time. But part of me always wondered if you were so determined to make things work with him just because . . .” She trailed off suddenly.

“Because what?” Clarke prompted. Whatever Raven had to say, she could handle it.

Hesitating briefly, Raven finally finished up her thought. “Because you wanted to feel like you’d finally moved on from Bellamy.”

Her chest and stomach tightened upon hearing that. No, that . . . that couldn’t be right. “Raven, I didn’t see or speak to Bellamy for five years,” she pointed out. She’d moved on as much as she could have.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean you got over him,” Raven pointed out.

_Dammit_ , she thought. As per usual, Raven was right. Of course he hadn’t ever _really_ gotten over Bellamy. That was why she’d been so excited to get that text from him. That was why even a looming pregnancy test hadn’t been enough for her to stay at home and not go out to meet him at the bar. That was why she hadn’t been able to resist sleeping with him, even though she knew it wasn’t fair to him, because he wanted more than what she could give him now.

“Not to get too heavy or anything,” Raven said, “but . . . what happens with Bellamy now?”

“What do you mean?” Nothing was _supposed_ to happen anymore.

“Well, ironically, he chose now of all times to move back home,” Raven said. “And I _know_ you guys didn’t just stop at one hook-up.”

God, was she really that obvious? She’d been determined not to say anything about the second one. “Just one other night,” she mumbled.

“See? You’re insatiable. You guys want each other.”

“No, we’re just friends,” she insisted. There was nothing else they could be anymore. That time had passed.

“So that’s gonna be your future with him?” Raven said. “Friends?”

What else was it supposed to be? It wasn’t fair to expect Bellamy to come to her rescue every time Finn decided to be a jerk, or to expect Bellamy to help her through something life-changing when it wasn’t even his responsibility. “Raven, I can’t really think about that right now,” she admitted. The truth was, as hard as she was trying to be _un_ selfish with him, this whole friends thing wasn’t easy. She would have loved for it to be able to be something more, but . . . it just couldn’t be.

“Right,” Raven said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Feeling like she needed a distraction, something to look at in order to keep from looking so damn worked up about Bellamy, Clarke leaned forward and grabbed her phone off the coffee table. She typed in _non-invasive paternity test_ to educate herself about the procedure and stay focused on the bigger issue at hand.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

Even though she was dead on her feet, Clarke tried to perk herself up for work. When she walked into the bar, someone chirped, “Hey, Clarke,” and she said, “Hey,” in response without even looking to see who it was. Probably somebody from class. Or a former class. Or somebody from her LGBTQ+ group. God, they had a meeting this week, didn’t they? She didn’t have the energy for that.

Despite how lethargic she was, there was one thing—or rather person—who managed to wake her up a little bit. And he was sitting in the same booth she’d grown accustomed to finding him in, not too far away from the bar. He’d become a regular.

“You look tired,” Bellamy said as she approached.

“I am.” All the apps she’d downloaded said it was perfectly normal to have less energy at this point in the pregnancy. That coupled with the fact that she couldn’t drink any caffeine was wearing on her. She wasn’t much of a soda drinker, but coffee used to be part of her morning routine. “It doesn’t seem to matter how much sleep I get. I just have no energy,” she groaned. “And I’m waking up and peeing every couple hours. It’s awful.”

“You didn’t wake up when you were lying in bed with me,” he pointed out.

“Well, I was extra comfy.” Slipping into the back room for a moment, she popped open her locker, stashed her keys inside, and tied her apron around her waist. She checked to make sure her order pad and a pen were in it, then lumbered back out into the bar. “So what’ve you been up to?” she asked him, heading behind the counter to grab him another can of beer.

“Not much,” he said. “Went to work today.”

“Oh, yeah? How’d that go?”

“Well, I didn’t break anything or injure anyone, so I’d say I did alright.”

She laughed, popping open the tab on the new can before she handed it to him. As she loomed over his table, though, she noticed that someone else appeared to be sitting with him. There was a nearly empty Budweiser bottle and a bowl with some pretzels in it. And on the seat of the booth was . . . a woman’s purse. “Oh, are you . . . here with someone?” she asked, trying to keep any hints of jealousy out of her voice.

“No,” he said. “This girl from high school came in, sat down and started talkin’ to me. She’s in the bathroom now.”

So he hadn’t shown up with someone, but someone had shown up and spotted him. Interesting. “Which girl?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too nosy.

“Roma,” he answered.

“Roma.” She let that name roll over her tongue, and it sounded familiar right away. “The girl you lost your virginity to?”

Before Bellamy could answer, out of the bathroom came a tall, confident brunette. “That’s me,” she declared. “His freshman year. He got into his first game, ran for the winning touchdown, and I knew I had to have him. So I did.” She walked around Clarke and slid into the booth, downing the rest of her drink in one big gulp.

“Clarke, Roma. Roma, Clarke,” Bellamy introduced them quickly.

“Hey,” Roma said with a slight head nod. She didn’t seem interested in Clarke at all, though—why would she be?—because she immediately said to Bellamy, “So how much do you remember about that night?”

“Oh, it’s all kind of a blur,” he admitted. “I remember partying after the game, gettin’ pretty wasted, feelin’ you up.”

“Once we started fucking, you didn’t last very long,” Roma told him.

“I was fourteen,” he reminded her.

“It’s okay. You got better.” She grinned at him, as if she’d been the one to teach him.

_Just like he taught me_ , Clarke thought, feeling very out of place, almost like she was interrupting something. Bellamy and Roma had had a connection once. Maybe not as intense or long-lasting of a connection as she’d had with him, but still . . . it was there. And maybe he wanted to explore it again. “Well, you guys probably have some catching up to do,” she said, awkwardly backing away from the table, “so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Oh, hey, could you bring me another one?” Roma asked, holding up her now empty bottle.

_I have to wait on her?_ Clarke thought, cringing inwardly. “Sure,” she said, forcing a friendly smile as she took the bottle from her. She headed back behind the counter, tossed it, and took her sweet time getting her another. First she wiped down the counter. Then she did a little rearranging in the beer fridge. It wasn’t a mess or anything, but she figured things could be alphabetized and they’d be a lot easier to find. Plus, keeping busy with that gave her a chance to eavesdrop on Bellamy’s conversation with his first ever fuck friend.

“So what’ve you been up to?” Roma asked. “Besides looking so good.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, hoping she didn’t sound so desperate when she flirted with Bellamy.

“Nothing much,” he answered. “Just traveling.”

Roma grunted. “That’s a hell of a lot more than what I’ve done.”

“What did you do?”

_Please be boring_ , Clarke thought as she moved Corona onto the other side of Busch. _Or unimpressive_. She could settle for something unimpressive.

“Got knocked up,” Roma blurted. “Had a kid.”

Clarke’s eyes bulged. Bellamy’s must have been doing the same, because he sounded surprised when he said, “Oh, really?”

Well, that definitely wasn’t boring. But it wasn’t it wasn’t, like, tempting, either.

“Yeah. He’s five years old now,” Roma said. “I’m supposed to be at his soccer game right now, but fuck that. I hate soccer.”

Clarke frowned, feeling sorry for her son. Yeah, a lot of people hated soccer, but if her kid was playing . . . what kind of mom would just bail on him like that?

“My mom went to all my football games, even when I was little,” Bellamy said, and Clarke couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard a little bite of judgment in his tone.

“Well, your mom’s a saint,” Roma said. “It’s torture. Nobody ever scores, you get bleacher butt, and it’s just an all-around miserable time.”

_And you’re an all-around miserable date_ , Clarke thought, finally giving up on the fridge long enough to take a bottle opener to Roma’s beer and bring it over to her. “Here you go,” she said, noting the tension in Bellamy’s shoulders. He didn’t want to be sitting there with her right now. There would be no reconnecting with him and Roma, physical or otherwise. What a relief.

“Thanks,” Roma said. She took a drink, a big one, then said, “Do yourself a favor, Bellamy. You, too, Claire.”

“Clarke,” she corrected.

“ _Never_ have kids,” Roma advised emphatically. “They drain the life out of you.”

Clarke shot Bellamy a look, and he shot one right back up at her. Neither one of them said anything about it, and Roma didn’t seem to notice.

For the next half an hour, Clarke tried to focus on the other customers. It was just her and her boss on duty, and Monday nights were actually pretty crowded. It was more of the work crowd instead of college kids, older men who liked to stop and have a drink before heading home for the night. One of them decided he had the right to slap Clarke’s ass, so she turned around, grabbed his hand, and told him if he ever did that again, she’d rip his dick off and throw it in the ocean. He apologized, and she didn’t anticipate having any issues with him again. This was the kind of job where you had to have a zero tolerance policy with guys like that, not let them get away with anything, otherwise they’d just keep doing it.

_Finally_ , Roma got up to leave. Bellamy walked her out to her car, and Clarke watched through the window as they said goodbye. She wasn’t a body language expert by any means, but it sort of looked like Roma was sending some signals, perhaps asking if he wanted to come over for a while after she went and picked up her son. Whatever she was saying, Bellamy was shaking his head and shrugging, probably trying to let her down easy. They didn’t hug goodbye. Roma just ended up getting in her car and driving off. But Bellamy came back inside and came right up to the bar.

“So . . .” she said. “That was Roma.”

“Yep.” He sat down on a stool and leaned forward, elbows on the counter as he raked his hands through his messy hair. “She’s a lot different than I remember her.”

“Hmm. No offense to her or anything, but . . . I hope I don’t become like her when I’m a mom,” Clarke said. “I’d rather be supportive and involved, like your mom.”

“You will be,” he predicted.

“You sound so sure of that.”

“Well, I am sure.” His eyes stared straight into hers, and he said, “You’ll make your son or daughter feel really special. I know that.”

“And how do you know?” Personally, she only knew what she was hoping for, not what would actually be.

When he responded with an ultra-serious, “Because you made me feel that way,” she nearly lost her balance and stumbled backward. So often when she thought about their past, she thought about how he’d made _her_ feel, because that was what she’d experienced. But he’d felt things, too. And it seemed like he still did.

****

_Clarke had to hand it to Bellamy: He seemed determined to keep kissing her, even though her hands had found their way to his zipper. She tugged down, reaching inside to handle him through his underwear. His cock was, like, throbbing or something. Like it needed attention._

_Moving down on the bed, she kissed a path on his chest, in between his pecks and over his abs. When she got down to his groin, she stopped, sat up, and pulled his pants down. He helped by pulling his legs out of them, and she was so impatient to get him in her mouth that all she did was peel down the waistband of his boxer briefs so his cock could spring free. Gripping the base of it in her hand, she lowered her head, engulfing as much of him as she could right from the start._

_“Yeah . . .” he groaned as his hips bucked off the bed. He kept them down after that, though, seemingly content to let her take control of this and do whatever she wanted to him. Really, all she wanted to do was make him feel good._

_She bobbed her head up and down his length, thoroughly coating him in her saliva. The musky, masculine scent of him filled her nose, and the taste of his pre-cum dribbled down the back of her throat._

_“Oh, fuck yeah,” he ground out, reaching down to tangle his hand in her hair. It must have been hard for him not to move her head up and down, because he was pretty used to being in control. But what she liked about Bellamy was that he didn’t mind relinquishing some of the control, either. And now that she was feeling more confident in the bedroom, more experienced, she didn’t mind taking it._

_“Shit, Clarke,” he swore, and when she sneaked a peek up at him, his head was pressed back hard into the pillow, eyes shut, his Adam’s apple bobbing._

_Releasing him from her mouth with a loud pop, she teasingly asked, “Are you gonna cum or what?”_

_He looked down at her through hooded eyes and said, “Yeah, I’m gonna cum. Keep goin’.”_

_Already prepping herself for an onslaught of semen in her mouth—she was_ going _to swallow this time—she resumed sucking on him, applying some pressure with her mouth and with her hand at the base of his length. Every squeeze or suction made him grunt or groan, and his voice was so low and sexy that it_ really _tuned her on. With her free hand, she reached down to rub her pussy through her leggings._

_“Oh fuck,” he said again. “Oh . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut and almost grimaced as he came right into her mouth, almost as if it were painful even though it was pleasurable. She stilled her head and let him coat her mouth, her throat, her tongue. It was warm, sticky, and sort of salty tasting. Definitely an acquired taste, but the more she did this, the more she was acquiring it._

_It got a little sloppy as she tried to lift her head. Some of his cum seeped out the sides of her mouth, and she wasn’t able to get it all off his cock. First, she swallowed what she had, then she carefully licked at the underside of his cock, then the tip, and finally, his stomach, cleaning up anything that had spilled there. She didn’t want to leave a drop. Whenever he went down on her, he always seemed disappointed there wasn’t more of her to taste when she came._

_Slowly slithering back up his chest, she smiled at him, enjoying the dazed look on his face. “You’re gettin’ so good at that,” he told her._

_“Practice makes perfect.” She straddled his stomach, bending down to murmur against his lips, “But I think I should practice some more.”_

_“Fine by me.” They kissed, and Clarke wondered if Bellamy could taste himself on her lips. His tongue darted out to brush against hers, and she felt like he_ had _to taste that. How could he not?_

_When he pulled back, he was surprisingly soft with her as he tucked her hair behind her ear and ran his thumb over her cheek. “I’m havin’ so much fun, you know that?”_

_“Me, too.” It wasn’t going to be fun when she broke curfew tonight, but oh, well. Her parents were already mad at her for losing her virginity—well, mostly her mom was—so it really didn’t matter if they got mad about smaller things, too._

_As nice as it would have been to just keep fooling around with him, in the back of her mind was a to-do list of things she needed to accomplish tonight, and at the top was world history. “Ugh, I have a test tomorrow,” she lamented, “and I really need to study.” She repositioned herself so that she was sideways, halfway dangling off the bed so she could reach down into her backpack and search around for her notebook._

_“No, let’s keep having fun,” he said, smoothing his large hands over the curve of her ass._

_“You can quiz me,” she said, pulling out a blue spiral notebook. “And every time I get one right, I get a kiss.” She flipped to the right page and handed him her notes, hoping he’d be generous with_ where _he kissed her._

_“Okay, that does sound kind of fun,” he admitted._

_“Right?” She reached down and pulled his underwear up over his now limp cock, just so she didn’t have any unnecessary distractions, then settled in beside him. “Just give me the definition and I’ll say the term.”_

_First he held her notebook close, squinting at what she’d written. Then he held his arms all the way out so that it was farther away. Again, he squinted._

_“What?” she said. “Is my handwriting that sloppy?”_

_“No, it’s . . .” He set her notebook down on his stomach and grumbled, “I can’t read.”_

_Maybe that explained the thick, dark-rimmed glasses on his nightstand then. She reached over, grabbed the glasses, and put them on him. “Better?” she asked, taking a moment to appreciate how cute and nerdy he looked. So very different from the stud on the football field._

_“No,” he said without even trying to make out her notes again._

_“No?”_

_He sighed frustratedly and took the glasses off. “It’s not my eyesight, Clarke; it’s . . . I just can’t read very well.”_

_“What do you mean?” He’d said stuff about reading before, but just barely._

_“It’s stupid,” he mumbled, sliding out of bed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He even grabbed his jeans off the floor and stepped back into them._

_“Whoa, Bellamy.” She sat up, not sure what was happening here. “What’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing.” He picked up her notebook again, took one quick glance at it, and shrugged. “Look, I just can’t read, okay? It takes me forever. The fuckin’ letters get all scrambled up when I look at ‘em. They look backwards and out of place and . . .” He trailed off, tossing her notes onto the foot of the bed as if he were mad at them. “It just sucks.”_

_What he’d just described definitely sounded familiar. And not all that uncommon. “What, like . . . dyslexia?” she asked unsurely. Maybe it was something he’d been diagnosed with, but maybe not._

_That look on his face was so unlike Bellamy. He looked . . . resigned. Maybe even a little embarrassed. She was so used to Bellamy being confident and sure of himself that seeing him look anything but was kind of head-spinning._

_“That’s okay,” she said, climbing out of bed. “Lots of people have dyslexia.”_

_“Lots of dumb people,” he muttered._

_“No. Walt Disney and Picasso and even Albert Einstein.”_

_He gave her a confused look, like he didn’t understand how she knew that stuff._

_“I did a project over this in fifth grade,” she explained. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Bellamy.”_

_“Yeah, well, I don’t really talk about it.” He wouldn’t even look at her. Instead, he kept looking off to the side._

_“You can talk to me,” she told him. She wasn’t just here to give him blow-jobs. She could be here for other stuff, too._

_It took him a minute of contemplation, but finally, he did start talking. And he looked at her as the words left his mouth. “I almost got held back in second grade because my reading was so bad,” he admitted. “They had me on an IEP until middle school. Then my mom got me off it ‘cause I didn’t want people to know anything was harder for me. And I still don’t, so don’t tell anyone.”_

_“I won’t,” she promised. It was nobody else’s business, probably not even really hers._

_“People just think my grades suck because I’m too busy with football and girls,” he said. “Which is kind of true, but . . . hell, even if I studied, they still wouldn’t go up.”_

_“You do study, though,” she pointed out. “Monty tutors you.”_

_“Yeah, so I can stay eligible.” He exhaled heavily and shook his head. “It just sucks, you know, ‘cause I really like history. Sometimes I think that’s what I want my major to be. But I hate reading about it, ‘cause it takes me forever. So pretty much everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from videos.”_

_“There’s nothing wrong with that.” She tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled it away._

_“It just kinda makes me feel like a dumbass.”_

_It broke her heart to hear him say that about himself. “Bellamy, you are_ not _dumb,” she told him. “And so what if reading’s not your strong point? There’s a lot of other stuff you can do that other people can’t.”_

_He snorted. “Throw a football.”_

_“No, it’s more than that.” Sure, his athleticism was a skill, but he had plenty of other skills, too. “You’re not just the quarterback; you’re the leader. People look up to you. They listen to you. They wanna be like you. Think of Jasper.”_

_“Oh, that kid . . .” He shook his head. “He doesn’t know which way’s up.”_

_“Yet you befriended him anyway.” Now that they’d started their own lunch table, things were kind of rearranging in the cafeteria, with Miller and Raven and Zeke of course coming to sit with them, but the other day, Bellamy had invited this scrawny freshman to sit with them, too. Apparently he’d convinced him to join the football team._

_“So what you’re saying is, I might not be able to read for shit, but I’m still a decent guy?” he summarized._

_She reached for his hands again, and this time, he let her take them. “You’re a good guy,” she told him. “And a good boyfriend.” As soon as that word left her mouth, she felt like she’d screwed up. This thing between them, whatever it was . . . she’d been very conscious about not referring to him as her boyfriend to anyone. Let alone to him. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I know we said we weren’t gonna attach any labels to this.”_

_He could have freaked out on her, and some guys might have. But much to her relief, he just smiled at her, intertwined their fingers, and said, “You’re a good girlfriend, too.”_

_Her knees got all weak when she heard that word._ Girlfriend? _He’d never called her that before._

_It wasn’t something they needed to make a big deal out of, so she tried to play it cool and just stood up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. Any insecurities he’d had about his dyslexia seemed to vanish the instant their lips met, and he was back to being the same old Bellamy again. Back to being . . . her boyfriend._

****

Charmaine Diyoza was a blessing of a boss. She noticed that Clarke was dragging and let her leave early. It was still 9:30 before she got out of there, but hey, that was an hour and a half earlier than when she usually got to head home. She’d take it.

Even though she had no energy and just wanted to go home and crash and fall asleep, Clarke had done some thinking today about what her next steps needed to be. At this point, all the most important people in her life knew . . . except for her parents. Her dad was going to have to find out by phone, unless he spontaneously and miraculously decided he wanted to come pay her a visit. But her mom . . . that was a conversation that needed to happen face to face, and it needed to happen sooner rather than later. Now that Finn knew, there was no telling who he’d let it on it. If word started to spread and her mom found out from someone else instead of directly from her, that’d be awful.

Instead of going home, she went to her mother’s house. She used her key to let herself in, and she both saw light and heard voices in the living room. As it turned out, her mom and Kane were cuddling on the couch, watching some cheesy movie on the huge flat-screen mounted on the wall. Kane was the first one to notice her. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Oh, hi, Clarke. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“I was quiet,” she said, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

“What’re you doing here, sweetie?” her mom asked. “It’s late.”

“I know. I just got off work, and . . .” She let out a nervous shy, trying not to lose her resolve. “I thought I’d come see you guys.”

“Oh, well, here, sit down,” her mom said, patting the couch.

Slowly, Clarke slid down from the arm of the couch onto the cushion.

“We were just watching this Hallmark movie,” her mom said. “It’s not very good.”

“They never are,” Kane mumbled.

“I think you like them more than you let on,” her mom teased him.

“I only watch them because I know you like them.”

Her mother smiled sheepishly. “I do. I do like them. I try not to, but it’s just so nice knowing it’ll have a happy ending.”

_Yeah_ , Clarke thought, envious of the obnoxiously sweet couple on the screen. _That would be nice_. Whoever these characters were, they were kissing in the park now, and it was raining and looked all romantic.

“What did we watch on Netflix the other day?” her mother asked Kane, distracted from the movie now. “Oh, what was it called?”

“I can’t remember,” he said.

“Well, anyway, I thought it was gonna be a sweet romance. Turns out, it was this tragedy.”

_Like my life_ , Clarke thought dismally. That was probably over-dramatic as fuck, because there were plenty of people who were a lot worse off than her. But seriously, what kind of cruel twist of fate was it that her first ex-boyfriend finally came back into town not long after her second ex-boyfriend had gotten her pregnant?

“I need to tell you guys something,” she said quietly, hoping she’d feel better and lighter once the big secret was out.

“Was it called _Let Me In?_ ” her mom asked Kane, apparently not hearing her. “ _Leave Me Be?_ I can’t remember.”

“Mom . . .” Clarke really needed her to focus here.

“Maybe it didn’t even start with an L. I don’t know.”

“Mom, I’m pregnant,” she blurted, knowing _that_ would get her attention.

And it did. Her mother’s head whipped towards her, a sharp look on her face, panic in her eyes. “What?” she spat.

_You heard me_ , Clarke thought. No need to say it again.

Her mother stared at her in shock, and all she could manage was, “Clarke . . .” Her bottom lip quivered, and tears immediately filled her eyes.

“I’m in my ninth week now,” Clarke informed her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how.”

Her mom threw her hands up in the air. “I knew it. I knew this would happen. Bellamy Blake comes back to town, and you end up pregnant.”

“Mom, Bellamy hasn’t been back that long,” she pointed out.

“Then—then who’s the father?” she sputtered, sounding horrified now. “Do you know?”

“Yeah.” At least she had that much figured out. “It’s Finn.”

“Finn?” her mom echoed, wrinkling her forehead as she tried to puzzle it out. “But I thought you broke up with him. I . . .” She stopped abruptly as the pieces connected in her head. “Oh. I see.”

That was, like, everyone’s reaction, it seemed. Assume it was Bellamy, then be confused as to how it could be Finn when they were no longer together. Then be upset, but try not to show it.

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke apologized, knowing this had to come as a major disappointment.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Kane piped up.

“Yes, she does,” her mother snapped, taking on quite a different tone. “Clarke, how could you be so irresponsible? How could you let this happen? Weren’t you still getting the shot?”

“Yeah, but I spaced it and--”

“You can’t do that!” her mom yelled. “How many times did I tell you there can’t be any lapses?”

“I know. I know you did.” She blinked back tears, feeling like _such_ an idiot. It really had been irresponsible. She should have known better.

“And condoms . . .”

“Yeah, you told me about that, too.” Most of the time, she and Finn had used condoms, just to be extra cautious, but he’d always hated it. “I was careless,” she acknowledged.

“Why? Why after all the talks we had about being care _ful_ would you . . .” Her mom looked like she was about to pull her hair out as she shot to her feet. “I don’t understand!”

There wasn’t an explanation, not one that would make a whole lot of sense. It’d just been one night, and she’d been drunk and lonely, and Finn had just been there, and . . . “Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said, her voice shaky. “And Finn’s already reacted badly enough, so I just really need you to support me right now.”

“But what does this mean for you?” her mom asked, pacing around in front of her now, looking completely frazzled. “You’re supposed to be going to med school next fall and . . . how are you gonna do that with a baby? And is Finn gonna help you, or are you on your own?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Mom.” That was all too much to think about right now. “I’m just trying to take it day by day.” Right now, her priority was getting this damn paternity test done so Finn could shut up about all his doubts.

“Abby,” Kane said, his voice soft and calm, probably the same tone he took when mentoring one of his troubled youth, “I think what Clarke needs--”

“No, _I_ need a little space,” she said. “I—I’m sorry, I just can’t . . .” Crying, she ran up the stairs, and Clarke heard her bedroom door open and then slam shut. Even with the movie still playing on their huge TV, she could hear her mom just wailing. Sobbing. Bawling.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Kane said, getting up. He gave Clarke’s shoulder a supportive squeeze and said, “Congratulations, kiddo,” before he went upstairs after Abby.

_Yeah, congratulations_ , she thought bitterly. During the ultrasound, things actually managed to feel congratulatory, but during moments like these, it felt anything but.

She had a feeling it was going to take Kane a while to talk her mom down from her hysteria, and she didn’t really want to just sit there and wait around. She felt way too close to crying her own eyes out, so she decided it was best to just leave without saying goodbye.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far, everyone!
> 
> This chapter contains very brief snippets of lyrics from "Promise" by Ben Howard (which plays in the Pilot of The 100), as well as lyrics from "I Will Always" by The Cranberries.

_Chapter 14_

Construction wasn’t easy. The first day had been hard work, and the second day was shaping up to be more of the same. As of right now, Bellamy was mainly shadowing this guy named Roan. Roan was a pretty gruff guy, liked to smoke every chance he got, and he had the scratchy, husky voice to prove it. He had long hair that he wore in a half ponytail, and he had some scars on his face that Bellamy kind of wanted to ask about. But he didn’t want to offend the guy or anything. Maybe there was a story there that wasn’t any of his business.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Bellamy asked him as they hauled some plywood beams out of the back of a semi-truck.

“Three years, give or take,” Roan answered.

The beam was pretty large and pretty heavy, but Bellamy didn’t want to appear like it was any big effort for him, so he kept talking while they carried it towards the existing pile. “You like it?”

“Pays the bills,” Roan said, glancing back over his shoulder at him. “I’m hoping Emerson makes me project manager for the next big job. That pays better.”

If it’d been three years and he’d never been the project manner yet, Bellamy was sure it would take just as long for him. Hell, he was still learning the trade here. “So did you go to college then?” he wondered. He’d assumed there would be a lot of guys there without a degree, or at most just a technical one or an associate’s.

“Nah. I screwed myself up with drugs after high school,” Roan openly admitted. “Lived on the street for a couple years, went to jail. By the time I got out, I was clean, but nobody wanted to hire me. I was lucky to get this job.”

Bellamy was relieved when they were finally able to set the board down. So far, this was shaping up to be a far more strenuous workout than any weightlifting at the gym would have been. “It turned your life around,” he said, glad that he’d never let himself do more than just get high a couple times. Drugs really would have screwed up his athletic career. Not that he’d ended up having much of one anyway.

“Yeah, and now I got some motivation,” Roan said, motioning for Bellamy to follow him back to the truck.

“You wanna keep your job.”

“Have to. I got two little girls,” Roan revealed. “They depend on me.”

Bellamy had figured that this guy was a couple years older than him, but for some reason, he hadn’t pictured him with kids. “How old are they?” he asked.

“Four. They’re twins.” Roan stopped at the truck, his face taking on an entirely differently expression when he spoke about his daughters. “They’re, uh . . . they’re pretty amazing. And I just wanna make their lives easier than mine.”

_Damn_ , Bellamy thought. Yesterday, he and Roan had mostly just talked about the job, but now that he was getting to know him a little better . . . mad respect.

“What about you?” Roan asked as he climbed back up into the truck. “What’s your story? Heard you used to be the big shit around here. Football or something.”

Bellamy climbed up with him and tried to downplay his reputation. “Yeah, I was pretty good.”

“Not good enough to play in college, though, huh?”

“No, I played, for one season.”

Roan bent down to pick up his end of the board. It didn’t even look like it was hard for him. “What happened? You get injured?”

Bellamy picked up his end, too, straining a bit under the weight. “No.” And that was all he cared to say about that.

After they’d hauled that board over to the others, Bellamy was feeling gassed, and it was twenty minutes past their lunch break. He needed food, he needed to rest, and he needed those things now. “Hey, I think I’m gonna go get something to eat,” he announced. “You wanna come?”

“I’m good. Wife packed my lunch,” Roan said.

So the guy was married, too? That was some full-fledged adulthood shit right there. If anyone had packed Bellamy’s lunch for him, it would’ve been his mom, and . . . well, that just would’ve been fuckin’ embarrassing.

Since the job they were doing was on campus, it seemed only logical to eat there, too. He strolled on up to the student union, craving Subway, but when he spotted Clarke, all thoughts of food fell to the wayside. She was sitting out by a big fountain with her pants rolled up to her knees, feet in the water. Her focus was solely on whatever was in her lap. She was writing something down. Or maybe drawing.

He made his way towards her, really hoping that she was drawing, and when he got closer, he noticed that she was. “Glad you like the sketchbook,” he said, standing over her. He created a shadow over her and her sketch.

She had to shield her eyes against the sun as she looked up at him. “Yeah, it was a great gift.”

He took a closer look at what she’d been drawing and couldn’t help but notice that it definitely wasn’t G-rated. “What’s that?” he asked, even though it was pretty plain to see that she’d drawn a breast with a hand on it. A male’s hand. A little bit of a darker skin tone like his.

“Oh . . . nothing,” she said, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Just a doodle.”

“Is that supposed to be my hand?”

“Your hand. Please,” she scoffed. “It belongs to Ahmed, a very charming exchange student I met during a routine fire drill a couple years ago.”

He had to laugh at the ridiculous specificity of that. Bending down, he held up his hand right next to the drawing and sarcastically said, “Yeah, you’re right. It looks nothing like mine.”

“Just a doodle, like I said.”

“Hmm. Pretty sexy doodle.” Man, if he could’ve drawn, he would’ve drawn them doing all sorts of dirty things.

Closing her sketchbook, she asked him, “What’re you doing on campus?”

“I’m at work,” he replied.

“Oh, you’re working on the library?”

“Yeah. One of my least favorite places on earth.” He rolled his eyes. The irony of him working on a place full of books, a place he would probably never venture, was not lost on him.

“It’s actually really nice in there,” she said. “I’m glad they’re expanding it.”

“Well, right now I’m takin’ a break from expanding. Gonna go get some lunch,” he said. “Wanna join me?”

He must have caught her on a break in between classes, because she smiled at him and didn’t even hesitate. “Sure.”

He held out his hand for her, then stood and helped her up along with him. He took her backpack from her, even though she swore it wasn’t too heavy and she could carry it just fine. No need for her to be doing any more heavy lifting than necessary.

Luckily for him, Subway was fine with her, too. He got himself a turkey bacon wrap, and she got something else altogether. He was pretty sure it wasn’t even a sandwich. She blended so many different toppings and ingredients together, and it ended up looking absolutely repulsive to him. Even the sandwich maker kept asking her if she was _sure_ she wanted certain things on there. And she was sure. She had it toasted, and when they sat down to eat, he was sort of amazed at how fast she was woofing it down.

“So I take it turkey sandwiches actually do still sound appetizing,” he said. The main thing in there was turkey, so at its core, that was probably what it was.

“Yep,” she said, swallowing another big bite. “Ham sandwiches . . . not so much.”

She was eating olives and shit he’d never seen her eat before, but it all probably boiled down to those pregnancy cravings, he supposed.

She paused eating only long enough to take a drink. “So guess what?” she said. “I told my mom last night.”

“Yeah?” That was a big step. “How’d she take it?”

She shook her head. “Not well. I thought she wasn’t gonna wanna talk to me for a few days, but this morning she sent me all these texts with information about what I need to have done and this doctor here at the local hospital who she recommends.” She made a face, pulled a piece of onion out of her sandwich, and set it down on his wrapper in case he wanted it. “And she doesn’t even know it, but now I have to get a paternity test done, too.”

“What? Why?”

“Because that’s what Finn wants.” She shoved in the rest of her sandwich, stuffing her mouth a little too full.

“You’re shittin’ me,” he said. “He doesn’t believe you?”

Cheeks full of food, she shook her head. Once she had it all down, she wiped her hands on her napkin and said, “I don’t think he wants to believe me. He dropped out of college after his sophomore year, he lives with his friends . . . he’s not ready to be a dad.”

“Well, he’s gonna have to _get_ ready.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Hopefully he will after we get the results back.”

He felt bad for her having to deal with one more huge stressor in addition to everything else. “How long’s that gonna take?”

“After we get it tested? At least three days. But sometimes it can take weeks.”

“Weeks?” In this day and age, that just seemed ridiculous. “Don’t they just have those home kits you can use?” He’d seen stuff at Walgreens for cheap.

“Yeah, but if you want something that’s admissible in a court of law, you can’t just do that. You have to have it done through an accredited facility,” she explained. “I think I’m actually gonna have to go to this lab in Baltimore, get everything collected, and then they send it off somewhere for testing, and _then_ I get the results back.”

It all sounded so technical and clinical, not the way a pregnancy was supposed to be. “You’ve done your research,” he said, impressed.

“Yeah, now I just gotta call and schedule an appointment.” Folding her arms atop the table, she admitted, “It’s kind of stressful.”

Hell, it stressed him out just hearing about it. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like for her. “You want me to go with you?” he offered. If he had the day off work, it wouldn’t be a problem.

She seemed to think about it for a moment, but her response wasn’t what he’d expected. “No, you’d better not. If Finn’s there and you’re there . . . that could just get weird. Plus, I’ll probably go visit my dad afterwards, might stay there for the night.”

He thought about suggesting that she take either Raven or Harper with her, but maybe she was already planning on that. “I just wish there was something more I could do,” he said, feeling sort of useless.

“There is something more,” she said.

“What?”

With a hungry look in her eyes, she glanced at the remaining half of his turkey wrap.

“My sandwich?” he said. “You want my sandwich?”

“Just a couple bites.”

He would’ve given it to her even if she wasn’t pregnant. He had a bag of chips to munch on, and right now it was more important that she ate up to her heart’s content. He handed her what he had left, and her whole face lit up. “Thank you,” she said, taking a big bite without even hesitating. He had to laugh, because he’d never known Clarke to eat so much so quickly. But this was what happened when she was eating for two.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The LGBTQ club meeting ended up being a day earlier than Clarke had anticipated. She would have forgotten about it altogether had Lexa not texted her and asked if she was going. She really didn’t feel like it, but chances were she’d have to miss more meetings and events the further along in her pregnancy she got, so she dragged herself to the union at 7:30 that night and hoped there was a decent reason to be there.

There wasn’t. They ended up sitting in a ‘discussion circle’ and talking about fundraiser ideas.

“We could have a bake sale,” somebody suggested. The new girl. What was her name again? Jane? Jamie? Clarke couldn’t even remember.

Their club president, Anya, shot down that idea immediately. “We are not having a bake sale.”

“Why not?” Jane whined.

“Because bake sales are stupid.”

Miller grunted and said, “You think everything’s stupid.”

“Because everything is.” Anya looked harshly at all of them and expectantly asked, “Any other ideas?”

_This is torture_ , Clarke thought. Back when she’d joined this club as a freshman, it’d been about something. Spreading awareness, educating. But ever since Anya had taken it over, it was more of a hassle than anything else. Anya wasn’t even a lesbian, bisexual, or part of the acronym at all. She claimed to like girls, but Clarke had spotted her on more than one occasion making out with boys—never girls—right in the middle of campus, so something wasn’t adding up there.

“What about a car wash?” Miller proposed. He looked like he wanted to get out of there just as badly as Clarke did.

“In October?” Anya scoffed. “Next.”

The discussion—if it could even be called that with a dictator like Anya in charge—continued after that, with ideas ranging from “bounce house” to “karaoke night.” Clarke had nothing to add, so she turned to Lexa and muttered, “I’m so bored.”

“Me, too,” Lexa agreed as her thumbs dance quickly over the screen of her iPhone. “I’m texting dirty things to Costia as we speak.”

That wasn’t surprising. Lexa and her girlfriend were doing the long-distance thing, so there was a lot of action that had to happen over the phone. “You guys are coming up on the one-year mark, aren’t you?

“Yep.”

“That’s exciting.” Clarke had never actually made it to the one-year mark with anyone before. Almost with Lexa, but they’d fallen just two weeks short. And with Finn, they’d never even nailed down an actual anniversary because they’d been so on/off her sophomore year.

“Clarke? Lexa?” Anya glared at them. “Any bright ideas over there?”

“Nope,” Lexa said, not even bothering to hide her disinterest. “Not a one.”

Clarke really didn’t want to get on Anya’s bad side, so she opted for a bright idea that no one would oppose. “I think we should take a break and eat.” People had brought food, and hell, she’d been all about food today. She’d lost a few pounds at her first doctor’s visit, but by now, she’d probably gained them right back.

“Now there’s an idea I can get behind,” Miller said, making the first move to get up and go prepare himself a plate.

Although food had sounded good, Clarke rethought her idea when she actually went up to get some. It was . . . taco night. Somebody had brought taco meat, and it was likely that somebody else had brought the hard shells and soft shells. And there was a vast array of toppings, too: cheese, lettuce, sour cream, guacamole, and salsa. It was a lot.

“Mmm, this looks good,” Lexa said as she scooped a generous amount of taco meet onto her tortilla. “Who brought all this?”

“Who knows?” They alternated when it came to food. Clarke’s month had been August, so she was done for another year.

“Aren’t you gonna get one?” Lexa asked, noticing as Clarke moved through the line without putting anything on her plate.

“I’m not really that hungry,” Clarke lied. Food actually did sound good right now. Just not _this_ food. In fact, the smell was sort of making her nauseous.

“You were the one to suggest eating,” Lexa pointed out as she took some lettuce out of the bag.

“Yeah, but that was before I knew we were having tacos.”

“But you love tacos.”

She did. Normally, she really did. Besides macaroni, tacos had probably been her favorite food. But she knew she might never feel the same about them after this, and that was a painful thought. “I’ll just eat some cheese,” she said, sprinkling a small pile of shredded cheese onto her plate. That would have to do.

She sat down at a table and began eating the little pieces of cheese one by one, garnering a curious look from Miller. But he didn’t stare too long, because he was too busy chatting with a guy named Malcolm, whom he’d supposedly broken up with but would probably still hook up with later tonight.

“Here,” Lexa said, plopping down beside her. She set a fully-wrapped tortilla down on Clarke’s plate and said, “I’m not letting you go through a body-conscious phase. Eat up.”

It had nothing to do with feeling self-conscious about her body, though. Yeah, she did feel kind of bloated, especially in the underbelly area, but she wasn’t showing yet. She knew she could tell Lexa, but she didn’t feel like doing it in the middle of this club meeting, so she said, “Looks so tasty,” and picked up the taco. She took just a small bite, trying to force down the seasoned meet, the spicy salsa, and everything else Lexa had put in there for her. It just didn’t taste the way it should have, though, and she couldn’t possibly stomach it. Spitting it up into a napkin, she said, “Ugh, no, I can’t.” It tasted like roadkill. Not that she knew what roadkill tasted like, but close enough.

“What’s up with you?” Lexa asked, giving her a suspicious look.

“Nothing, I just . . .” Clarke burped and clasped one hand over her mouth. Crap, that one taste and the potent smell of these tacos was just too much. She couldn’t handle it anymore. “I don’t really feel so well,” she said, pushing her chair back. “I’ll be back.” Bolting into the bathroom, she barely made it in time before she threw up.

It was gross, because it was always gross. But it was something that she was accustomed to dealing with in the morning by herself, not in the evening like this. If her morning sickness lost its ability to tell time, that was just gonna suck even more.

“Oh, god,” she groaned, wiping off her mouth with some toilet paper. How was she supposed to gain weight when she kept puking like this?

She flushed the toilet, got up, and washed off her hands. To rid her mouth of the taste, she scooped some water into it and swirled it around a bit. God, she was so sick of this nausea. So sick of it.

When she opened the door to head back out, Lexa was standing right there, waiting for her. “Something you wanna tell me?” she asked, a knowing look on her face.

_Nothing you don’t already suspect_ , Clarke thought. But yeah, it was time for her ex-girlfriend to hear what was going on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy’s car was low on gas, so he drove his mom’s that night. He thought about swinging by Octavia’s dorm room, just to surprise her ( _and_ to make sure she wasn’t doing anything dumb with Lincoln), but he opted not to. If he actually did interrupt the two of them, that’d be horrible, and if he didn’t, she’d be mad at him for checking up on her. Besides . . . he had something else he really wanted to do, so he made the arrangements to go do it.

He turned on the radio, and some soft music came through the speakers. Not the usual stuff he liked to listen to, but it reminded him of the songs Clarke used to sing.

****

_By the time he wrapped up his tutoring session with Monty, Bellamy only had ten minutes left of study hall. Ten more minutes until football practice started. Ten more minutes to actually take a break._

_“Good job today,” Monty told him._

_“Thanks.” It’d taken him that whole time just to get his English assignment done, but it was better than nothing. And Monty, despite being a year younger than him, was a really big help. He wouldn’t have been eligible to even play right now without the kid._

_He slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the library, always happy to get out of there. He wandered around for a few minutes, trying to think of where Clarke would be right now. She, too, had study hall at the end of the day, but she usually didn’t come in the library when he was there. Didn’t wanna get him unfocused and all that._

_On his way to the locker room, he walked past the music room. Or was it the band room? He really wasn’t sure, because he’d never set foot in there. But he slowed down and backed up when he heard singing. It sounded like . . . Clarke was singing._

_Quietly, he opened the door to the music room, and there she was, by herself sitting on a chair in the front row of the small theater-like room. She was playing her guitar, and her eyes were closed as the lyrics to some soft song he didn’t recognize left her mouth._

“Who am I, darling to you?  
Who am I  
To tell you stories of mine?  
Who am I?”

_He smiled, wondering how long he could stand there and watch her without her knowing he was there._

“Who am I, darling for you?  
Who am I  
To be a burden in time?  
Who am I to you?”

_She trailed off, her voice fading into a whisper, gave the guitar one last strum, and then startled when she opened her eyes and saw him there. “Oh, god, Bellamy,” she gasped. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”_

_“Why not?” He’d enjoyed every note._

_“Nobody’s supposed to hear it yet,” she said as he sidled towards her. “It’s just something I’m playing around with for the winter concert.”_

_Winter concert? He’d never been to one of those. “That’s still a ways away,” he said, setting his backpack down on the floor. He sat down beside her, not concerned about the time. If he was a few minutes late to football, he was a few minutes late. He’d just tell his coach tutoring ran long._

_“Mr. Johnson wants me to sing a solo this year,” she said, tapping her hands against the guitar. “And I’m really nervous about it.”_

_“Why? Your voice is really good,” he said._

_“Thanks.” She repositioned her fingers on the chords and asked, “You wanna hear what else I’m working on?”_

_“Sure.” He glanced up at the clock. The final bell of the day was about to ring. Screw it. He could hang out here for at least ten more minutes without getting in trouble._

_She took a deep breath, strummed out a note once, and then started playing and singing, the chorus to some song that played on his mom’s 90s music stations sometimes._

“I will always go beside you  
You will always understand it.”

_She laughed self-consciously. “Yeah, that’s pretty much all I’ve got of that one.”_

_“It’s really pretty.” Not his type of music_ at all, _but he liked it when she sang it. “You’re . . . really pretty.”_

_It was always fun to make her blush, and when he said that, her cheeks got red. “What’s your favorite song?” she asked him. “Maybe I could sing it.”_

_“Oh, ‘Where Is My Mind?’ by The Pixies,” he answered without hesitation._

_“What? I don’t even know that one.”_

_“You don’t?” She must have never seen_ Fight Club _then. “It’s good.”_

_“Hmm, sorry, I can’t sing that one,” she said. “Maybe I’ll just go back to what I was practicing before.”_

_He leaned back, put his arm on the back of her chair, and stretched his legs out. “Mind if I sit here and listen?” he asked right before the final bell of the day rang._

_“No, that’s okay.” Once the bell was done chiming, she started singing the song he didn’t recognize again._

“Who am I, darling to you?  
Who am I  
To tell you stories of mine?  
Who am I?”

****

The address Raven had texted him was really easy to find, so Bellamy pulled up outside her apartment at 9:00 and waited for her to come out. It only took her a few minutes, but when she climbed into his car, she had this look of dread on her face. “I feel like we shouldn’t be doing this,” she said.

“Why not?” He shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but . . . without Clarke’s permission?” She cringed. “I don’t know.”

“Just tell me where to go.” She didn’t have to do anything here except get him to Finn’s house.

“Up to the corner, then take a right,” she navigated.

Finn’s house was a little hard to find, mostly just because he’d forgotten some of these streets over the years. He probably could have found it on his own, but he would have driven around in circles for a while.

“Here we are,” she said when they pulled up out front of a run-down white two-story. “Casa de Finn.”

“Looks kinda crappy,” he noted. The paint was peeling off, there were some shutters missing, and one window upstairs was boarded up. “Then again, I’m one to talk,” he muttered. “I live with my mom.”

Raven pulled the sleeves of her long-sleeved shirt down over her wrists and shivered. “What’re you gonna say to him?”

“I’m gonna tell him there’s no way this kid’s mine, try to get his head out of his ass.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna work,” Raven warned him.

“We’ll see about that.” He got out of the car, feeling like he might be able to talk some sense into this guy. One man to another or something like that. Not that he knew anything about fathering a kid or ending up in this position, but . . . he knew a thing or two about being father _less_.

“I’ll just wait here,” Raven called after him as he headed up the porch steps.

First he tried the doorbell, but since that didn’t work, he knocked. Nobody came to open the door, and there was some pretty loud music playing from inside, so he decided to try the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, so he just walked right in. The same guy he’d seen hanging out with Finn at the bar last week was there, sprawled out on the couch while a girl on her knees sucked his dick.

“Hey, don’t you knock?” he snapped, putting a pillow over his lap.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, trying to picture a baby in this home. It was loud in there, smelled like pot, and this girl looked like an actual prostitute. “Is Finn home?” he asked.

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Bellamy had barely turned his back to them and started heading up when he heard some slurping sounds start up again, followed by groaning. He loved a blow-job as much as the next guy, but that girl looked trashy as fuck.

Upstairs, the doors to all the rooms were shut, so he tried his luck with the one that had some light coming out from underneath it. When he walked in, he interrupted another couple. This time it was Finn and a girl with bleach blonde curly hair. They weren’t going at it yet, but clothes were partially hanging off, and the girl immediately covered herself up. “What’s this?” she yelped. “I’m not into threesomes.”

Finn shot him an annoyed look and grumbled, “This isn’t one.”

“I need to talk to you,” Bellamy told him. He really didn’t care if he was cock-blocking. Finn could put his sex plans on hold, because there was more important stuff to deal with. Besides, did he really need to be hooking up with anyone right now when he already had a kid on the way?

“Okay, I’ll just go then,” the girl said, scrambling to retrieve her jacket and her shoes. “See you around, Finn.” She looked embarrassed to have been walked in on and didn’t seem like she could get out of there fast enough.

Finn sat up on the side of his bed and buttoned up his shirt. “Did Clarke send you?”

“No, she doesn’t know I’m here,” he said. “I wanted to clear the air about some stuff.”

Standing up, Finn flapped his arms against his sides. “Such as?”

“Well, you thinking this baby could be anyone else’s but yours, for starters.”

Finn motioned for him to shut the door, probably didn’t want his roommate to overhear.

“I’ve only been back for three weeks,” Bellamy told him as he closed the door. “Clarke and I didn’t hook up ‘til then.”

“But you did hook up, though?” Finn narrowed his eyes at him.

_Oh . . . crap_ , Bellamy thought. Of course Finn hadn’t known about that, and now he’d gone and told him like a fucking idiot.

“That’s what I thought.” Finn walked over to his dresser, picked up a lighter and a carton of cigarettes, and lit one. “Did you know that, one time when we were goin’ at it, she said your name instead of mine?” he said, laughing angrily. “I don’t even think she knows she did it. But she did.” He blew a puff of smoke into the air, right in Bellamy’s direction.

Bellamy forced himself to ignore that for now, because he couldn’t think too much about it, about what it might mean. “My point is, this kid’s yours,” he said simply. “So step the fuck up and take some responsibility.”

“How do I know she didn’t sleep with anyone else between me and you, huh?” he protested. “Did you ever think of that?”

“She says she didn’t. Why don’t you just trust her?”

“Because it’s my fuckin’ life we’re talking about here!’ Finn roared. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“You already know it.” He found it pretty sad that, even after five years apart, he still knew Clarke better than this guy did. He _knew_ she was telling the truth. “What happens when those results come back positive, huh?” he challenged. “What happens when you can’t deny it any longer? Are you gonna be there for her, or are you just gonna let her fend for herself?”

“I’ll . . . cross that bridge when I come to it,” Finn said with a shrug.

Bellamy grunted, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” There really was no guarantee that he’d take responsibility for this, was there? He wondered if Clarke knew that, or if she was hoping for the best. “You can’t just make her do this alone,” he said, so pissed off to even be having this conversation. Guys who just knocked chicks up and then went on with their lives like nothing had changed drove him nuts.

“I didn’t say I was going to,” Finn said. “Cut me some slack here. I’m handling this the best I can.”

“By handling that girl who just left?” He wasn’t handling anything; he was just being an ass. “Cut the crap, alright? You’re gonna be a dad. Clarke’s gonna be a mom. Now I grew up with a single mom who bent over backwards to give me everything she could. But Clarke deserves better than that. And your kid deserves a dad who actually gives a damn,” he growled. “So man up and be there for her.” He shook his head in disgust, opened the door, and left. As he trundled down the stairs, he couldn’t help feeling like he hadn’t gotten through to this guy the way he’d hoped. But maybe something would resonate if Finn thought about it a little longer. Maybe, hopefully, something he said would strike a chord.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just when Clarke had managed to fall back to sleep after getting up for the third time that night to go to the bathroom, her phone rang. Groaning, she rolled over onto her side, reached over to her nightstand, fumbled around, and picked it up without even looking to see who was calling. “What?” she growled impatiently. She just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Hey, next time you wanna try to make me feel like shit, do it yourself instead of having your boyfriend come over.”

There was such anger in Finn’s voice that she could barely even recognize it as his. “What—what’re you talking about?” she stammered, sitting up.

“Oh, like you don’t know.” He snorted. “Bellamy paid me a little visit tonight, had some choice words.”

“Bellamy?” What the hell? Bellamy had talked to Finn? About . . .

She touched her stomach.

“Yeah, he basically told me I should just forget about the paternity test and raise this kid, no questions asked,” Finn ranted. “Interrupted a perfectly good night I had planned, too, not that you’d care.”

Why had he done that? She hadn’t asked him to say anything. “Finn, I . . . I didn’t know anything about that.”

“Oh, you didn’t?”

“No.” She wasn’t sure whether he believed her or not, but . . . well, he didn’t believe her about a lot of things.

“Then I guess it isn’t such smooth sailing between you two after all,” he grumbled before he ended the call.

“Wait, Finn . . .” She really wanted to talk this through with him, but it was too late. He was pissed, and he wasn’t going to be hearing it. He probably wouldn’t wanna hear much of anything from her until they got the paternity test results back.


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

It was a good thing construction was one of those jobs that allowed a person to learn while he worked, because the more Bellamy worked, the more he realized he knew so little. He slammed a hammer down on his thumb while simply trying to pound a nail, and it hurt like a motherfucker and got all purple. Roan took it upon himself to show him how to properly hammer a nail.

“See, you wanna hold it closer to the nail head for better control,” Roan explained as he demonstrated. “But don’t hit it too hard or you’ll smash your fingers again. Just gentle at first, and then pound it down.”

“Like sex?” Bellamy equated.

“Yeah, exactly.” Roan chuckled, then looked at something over Bellamy’s shoulder. “Ooh, speaking of . . .” He pointed.

Bellamy turned around, surprised but also fucking delighted to see Clarke coming his way. She must have been either on her way to or from class, because she had her backpack on her shoulders and was moving quickly.

“Is that your girl?” Roan asked.

_Used to be_ , he thought wistfully. But she sort of still was . . . wasn’t she? At the very least, she wasn’t anyone else’s. “I’ll be a minute,” he said, taking off his work gloves and hard hat before he walked towards her. “Hey, you missed it,” he said. He couldn’t suppress a dumbass grin as he revealed, “I was just learning how to pound things.”

She didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes, and her tone was almost an accusatory one as she asked, “Did you go and see Finn last night?”

_Finn?_ She knew about that? “How’d you . . .” There were only two people who might have told her, so he went with the more likely guess. “Did Raven say something?

“ _Raven_ went with you?” she spat.

Oh, crap, she sounded upset, and now he’d just implicated her friend in the whole thing, too, which probably just upset her even more. “She just rode with me,” he said. “I talked to him alone.”

“Well, what exactly were you hoping to accomplish, huh?” she growled. “Because you only pissed him off even more.”

“I--I told him it’s not my kid and he needs to step up and take responsibility,” he answered, feeling like . . . there was nothing wrong with that. He was just trying to look out for her. “‘cause I don’t want you to have to do it alone like my mom did,” he mumbled, looking downward.

She sighed heavily, and everything about her just seemed so frustrated. “Bellamy . . . he’s not gonna change his mind about this paternity test. I don’t like it, either, but it is what it is. You just made things worse.”

He frowned, kind of spun by all of this. When he’d seen her coming this way, he’d assumed that they might go grab lunch or something. But that didn’t seem likely to happen.

“Now he knows we slept together again, and he probably thinks we’re . . . more than we are,” she fretted. “I mean, this whole thing’s already complicated enough. I really don’t need some soap operatic love triangle to deal with, too.”

He hadn’t been trying to make things harder on her. That hadn’t been his intention at all. “I was just trying to help,” he mumbled.

“I know.” She looked him in the eye and shook her head sadly. “But you shouldn’t have said anything.”

_I’m sorry_ , he thought, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. He was sorry he’d upset her, but it was hard to apologize for looking out for her. Maybe he hadn’t gone about it the right way, but . . .

Feeling like he’d just been punched in the gut—they’d never really fought that much—he watched her walk away, a noticeable tenseness still in her shoulders and written on her face. Looking at it from her perspective, he could understand why she was upset. But he wanted her to understand where he was coming from, too. He cared about her, so much, and it killed him to see her dealing with this shit right now. And it was even worse to see her dealing with it on her own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Perfect timing. Clarke was just approaching the large front door of her mother’s house when it opened and her mom stepped out. She was in normal clothes, but she had her work badge pinned to her shirt, so she was probably on her way into the hospital.

“Clarke,” she said, slowly pulling the door. “What’re you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. My class got cancelled this morning, and . . . well, I wanted to talk to you,” Clarke said. “Do you have a minute?”

Her mom replied, “A few,” and reached for the doorknob again. “Do you wanna go inside or just talk here?”

“Here’s fine.” She sat down on the porch steps, doing a quick check of her mid-section to see if her stomach was pooching. Not yet. At least she still didn’t _look_ pregnant.

Her mom sat down beside her and said, “I’m sorry we haven’t, uh, spoken these past couple days. I’ve just been trying to process everything.”

Clarke nodded, understanding that everyone was going to react to this differently. Some people were just going to be happy for her, and other people, like Finn and her mom, were going to feel blindsided. She was just going to have to try to be patient with everyone. “Thanks for sending me the info you did,” she said. “I really wanna start doing all my doctor’s appointments here. I wish I could do today’s here.”

“Today?” her mother echoed. “What’s today?”

“Um . . .” It left a bitter taste in her mouth to even say it out loud, but she wanted to be honest with her mom about what was going on. “Paternity test.”

Abby’s eyes bulged. “But I thought you said you knew--”

“I do,” she cut in. “I do know. But _he_ just wants to know. For sure.” She was _really_ trying to be understanding of that, too but demanding this test of her still kind of felt like a slap in the face.

“Did you look into it thoroughly?” her mom asked. “Are you doing the non-invasive kind?”

“Yeah. I have to drive up to Baltimore this afternoon. Figured I’d stop in and see Dad.”

Her mom’s default reaction these days whenever someone mentioned Jake seemed to be to grunt and roll her eyes, which was exactly what she did here. “Are you gonna tell him?” she asked.

“I think so. We’ll see.” He was really the only notable person left in her life who had yet to find out, so she was really hoping the anxiety of keeping it a secret would fade completely once he knew.

“I just can’t believe this is happening,” her mom said, covering her face for a moment. She sniffled, shook her head, then removed her hands and blinked away tears.

“I know,” Clarke said, wishing she was a few years older, settled down and in love with the person who’d fathered her child. “But think of it this way,” she said, trying to remain as optimistic as possible. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m twenty-two years old. I’m gonna graduate this year. I can do this.”

“And what about med school?” her mom asked. Of _course_ her mom would ask about med school.

She wasn’t about to admit that that so wasn’t even a priority in her life right now, so she just went with, “That might have to wait.”

“And Finn? You think he’ll help you?”

She inhaled shakily and said, “I hope so. Once we get these test results back, I think he’ll come around.” Finn had never been the world’s greatest boyfriend, but he hadn’t ever been a completely bad guy, either. Although she was worried about Atom’s influence on him and the fact that he was basically living in a pot-house, she felt like being a father might get him to shape up and grow up. For real. “But I’m gonna need your help, too,” she told her mom. “If you don’t mind.” It wasn’t just the medical advice that she needed her mom for. It was all the other stuff, the guidance and support, the love and encouragement. Her mom, despite being a source of frustration for her at times, had _always_ had her back. Always. She needed her to have her back now, probably more than ever.

“Oh, Clarke . . . of course I don’t mind,” her mom said as a few tears spilled over. She opened up her arms and said, “Come here.”

Clarke leaned in towards her mom, hugging her, feeling a much-needed sense of comfort, the kind only mothers could provide.

“I will always be there for you,” her mom promised, and Clarke, better than anyone else, knew just how true that was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The DNA Diagnostics Center in Baltimore was a totally average-looking building. For some reason, Clarke had expected it to look more like a hospital, but it was right there on Franklin Street, a plain brick building that was actually really easy to miss, because there weren’t any elaborate signs advertising it. Made sense, she supposed. Nobody wanted to walk into a DNA testing center with a big neon sign hanging over it. These kinds of tests were confidential and personal, probably very stigmatized.

Clarke walked in with her head held high, determined not to feel embarrassed about having this done. It wasn’t necessary—she hadn’t gone out and slept with multiple men in the same time period or anything—but it was just . . . helpful. It’d be helpful to Finn to see the truth rather than to simply hear it from her.

As she approached the front desk, she said, “Hi, I’m Clarke Griffin. I’m here for a . . .” Even though she didn’t _want_ to feel embarrassed, she still lowered her voice and mumbled, “. . . paternity test.”

It wasn’t a very long wait, thankfully. They called her in after only about five minutes, and it was a simple blood draw. Well, as simple as her blood draws could be. Medical people always said that they had problems finding her veins, which was a good thing, aesthetically speaking. Sometimes, however, that meant the less experienced nurses would hit a muscle. The one she had managed to locate a vein, though, and get it with just one little poke. Clarke looked the other way while the vial filled up and thought about . . . well, Bellamy, oddly enough. She wondered what he was doing today. Probably working again.

As the nurse—or was it a sample collector? She wasn’t sure—wrapped up the middle of her arm in a blue gauzy thing, Clarke inquired, “So will somebody call me with the results, or will they be online?”

“They’ll be online, on your secure account.”

“Do they get mailed?”

“You can request a letter. But that will take longer to arrive.” The nurse—she was just going to think of her as a nurse, because that sounded a lot friendlier—looked at her sympathetically and said, “I know it’s stressful having to wait, not knowing.”

“Oh, I know,” Clarke said. “The father just wants proof.”

“Ah, I see.”

Yeah, there was no uncertainty about it, at least not for her. So it wasn’t something that stressed her out so much as it made her feel . . . impatient.

When she walked back out to the front, Finn was sitting on the couch, waiting, fiddling around with something on his phone. He glanced up when he saw her but didn’t say anything.

“I did my part,” she said, motioning to the wrap on her arm.

He made a face. “Do they have to take my blood, too?”

“No. Just a cheek swab.” God, guys had it so easy sometimes. Losing their virginity didn’t hurt, getting a paternity test was painless, and they didn’t have to go through childbirth. So lucky.

She sat down beside him, figuring she had to take whatever chance they had to try to talk to him, maybe re-establish some positive lines of communication. However, before she could even try to say something to lighten the mood, he complained, “I don’t understand why we had to come all the way up here. I could’ve just don’t that myself and mailed a sample in.”

“Because everything has to be done by the book for the results to be legally defensible in court,” she explained. Yeah, she had done her research on this.

“Who said anything about court?” he huffed. “You think that’s where we’re gonna end up?”

“No, I meant . . . just in case.”

“In case what?” he spat. “I’m a deadbeat dad?”

Oh, she hadn’t meant for any of this to come out that way, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about the worst case scenario. If for some reason Finn did refuse to step up and do his part, she wasn’t letting him off the hook. He’d have to pay child support. Or . . . maybe it was better if he didn’t. Because then she could just make every baby-related decision on her own.

“I already told you I think you should put the baby up for adoption,” he muttered.

“And I told you that’s not happening.” There was nothing wrong with adoption, when it all worked out the way it was supposed to. But she just couldn’t do it. “Look, Finn . . . I know we didn’t plan for this, and it caught both of us off guard,” she acknowledged, trying to remind him that she was dealing with this new reality of theirs, too. “But I don’t want things to be so strained between us. Especially not right now. Do you?”

He didn’t have the chance to respond before the same nurse who had drawn her blood came out and said, “Finn?”

Groaning, he rose to his feet. “I just wanna get this over with.”

Clarke sat there like a kicked puppy as he headed back to ‘get it over with.’ But it wasn’t going to be over with just a cheek swab. She knew that; apparently he still didn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were normal houses, and then there was Clarke’s dad’s house. She’d only ever stayed over there a couple of times, but it was so massive that she had yet to explore the whole thing. It made her mom’s house look small in comparison. He had a four car garage—and yes, he actually _had_ four cars in there—a perfect lawn maintained by a professional landscaper, and he lived in a gated community, so all the houses around his were large and beautiful, too. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worked for his life of luxury, though. He was a petroleum engineer and had a master’s degree, and his many years of experience in the field had resulted in a pretty high annual salary. It was a demanding job, one that required him to travel all around the world and work some excessively long hours at times. He’d missed some of Clarke’s music recitals growing up because he’d been off and away discovering or extracting oil and natural gas. He hadn’t been there for her first night as a Rockets cheerleader, and he’d even almost had to miss her high school graduation. His taxing work schedule was one of the reasons her mom claimed to have divorced him, but Clarke knew better than to believe that had been the only reason.

“Hey, kiddo!” he exclaimed when she showed up there. “What a surprise.”

“You buzzed me through the gate,” she reminded him as she stepped inside.

“But that was still surprising.” He gave her a hug and said, “Good to see you. Come on in. We were just getting ready to relax for the night.”

“We?” she echoed curiously, following him through the foyer, which was this absolutely beautiful room with vaulted ceilings and a gorgeous staircase that wound up both sides to a balcony. Her dad had helped design this house after he’d inherited some family money after his uncle’s passing. The plan had been to move here with her mom after Clarke had graduated, but of course plans had changed, and he’d ended up building his dream house and moving there alone.

But apparently he wasn’t alone right now.

When they rounded the corner into what her dad liked to call the den, Clarke immediately spotted a head of shiny blonde hair sitting on the couch next to the indoor pool. (Yeah, her dad had a ridiculously nice indoor pool, but she’d never bothered to swim in it.)

“Clarke, this is Alyssa, my girlfriend,” her dad introduced the two of them. “Alyssa, this is my daughter Clarke.”

“Hi.” Alyssa didn’t bother to stand, but she did beam a smile up at Clarke and say, “So nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hi,” Clarke said, trying to disguise her gut reaction to all of this. She’d known her dad had a new girlfriend, but she’d just assumed that she’d be like the last girlfriends in that she’d be close in age to him. But this girl . . . she looked like she was in her twenties. People probably thought she was his daughter whenever they went out.

“I . . . didn’t know you were here,” Clarke said, feeling like she was intruding. “I’m sorry, I should’ve called first instead of just stopping by.”

“It’s fine,” her father assured her. “We were just gonna sit by the pool a while, listen to some music, have some drinks.” He went back behind the bar—because of course he’d had to design himself an in-home bar in addition to the indoor pool—and resumed putting some drinks together. He had all the things that a real bartender had, including that thing where they mixed and shook drinks around before pouring them in the glass.

“Yes, please join us,” Alyssa invited. “I’ve been harping on your father for the past two months to invite you over. I wanna get to know you.”

Clarke forced a smile and ventured over her dad’s way. Sliding onto a barstool, she quietly said, “Two months?” She hadn’t gotten one invite in all that time.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, pouring his concoction into a champagne glass.

“Oh, I’ll bet you have been.” She glanced back at Alyssa, who, she had to note, was dressed in only a thin white slip. “She’s, like, half your age, Dad,” she hissed.

“She’s thirty-three,” he corrected.

Older than she’d thought then, but still young enough to be considered a gold-digger. “And you’re fifty-one. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“I really like her,” he said as he poured another drink.

“Yeah, I can see why.” Alyssa was _obviously_ surgically-enhanced, and while there was nothing wrong with that, it all just seemed so transparent to Clarke. A beautiful young woman had romantic interest in a wealthy man who traveled a lot? Yeah, right. There so had to be an ulterior motive there.

“Stop,” he said, almost scolding her. “When you started dating a girl, which of your parents was the most open-minded?”

Reluctantly, she admitted, “You.” Her mom had nearly shit a gold brick.

“Then don’t you think you should be open-minded about this?”

She couldn’t help but feel like it was different, though. Her bisexuality wasn’t a choice. His decision to date someone who was only eleven years older than his daughter was. Of course, looks sometimes _were_ deceiving, so Clarke swallowed her resentment and got up so she could go sit by her dad’s new girlfriend. “So, Alyssa,” she said, sitting down on the adjoining couch, “where are you from?”

“Oh, the middle of nowhere Illinois,” Alyssa replied. “I moved out here with a boyfriend when I was young, got to be a Ravens cheerleader for a couple years. I hear you were a cheerleader, too.”

The Arkadia Rockets didn’t exactly compare to the Baltimore Ravens, so she said, “Just for two years in high school. Freshman and sophomore.”

“Why’d you quit?” Alyssa asked her.

She shrugged. “I just wanted to focus on other stuff.”

Her dad came to the couches with not two but three drinks in his hands. “Clarke graduated salutatorian in her class,” he boasted. “And she’s had straight A’s throughout college.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Alyssa said, taking a glass when he held it out for her. “I got straight B’s in junior high, and my mom was thrilled. That’s the best it ever got for me.”

Clarke nodded, trying not to be suspicious, but . . . this girl seemingly didn’t have any college education, and hell, maybe she didn’t even have a high school diploma. Maybe she Anna Nicole Smith-ed her way through life by latching on to men like her dad who were too distracted by her breasts to see that she was just using him.

“Here, you’re old enough,” her dad said as he handed her a glass.

_Oh, crap_ , Clarke thought. Was this really how she was going to tell her dad, by awkwardly not drinking anything? Was she really going to tell him right here by his pool with this Alyssa chick here? Telling her dad was supposed to have been a private thing between the two of them. Three was a crowd.

“Should we toast?” Alyssa asked as Jake sat down close to her and kicked his feet up on the table in front of them.

“Sure,” he said. “To the two most important girls in my life finally meeting each other.” He held his glass up, and Alyssa tapped hers against it and took a sip.

Clarke set hers down and quickly got to her feet. “Actually, I can’t stay,” she said. “I still have to drive home, and it’s already getting late.”

“You can stay here tonight if you want,” her dad offered. “We’ve got plenty of room.”

That was the fucking understatement of year. He’d once told her he’d lost count of all his guest rooms. “I have a test early in the morning,” she lied. “I really gotta go. But it was nice to meet you . . . Alyssa.” The words sort of burned her throat as they came out.

“Yeah, you, too,” she said.

“You want me to walk you out?” her dad offered.

“No, I got it. Bye, Dad.” Leaving the drink she couldn’t consume behind, she scurried up past the bar, around the corner, and back out into that massive foyer. That had been a bust.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With Halloween drawing closer, everything in town started to get more festive. Bellamy wasn’t much of a holiday guy himself. He liked Thanksgiving, since it was all about food and family, but Christmas was commercial as fuck these days, Valentine’s Day was even worse, and Easter . . . well, Easter was alright as long as he could do an adult egg hunt and bar crawl.

Even though he didn’t particularly _want_ to go to Arkadia’s Frightfest & Pumpkin Patch, he sort of relented and agreed to go when Jasper begged him to come along. Jasper, as it turned out, had kept talking to and flirting with Maya, and now he had a date. But he was too nervous to go alone. Bellamy tried to get out of it by assuring Jasper that the nerves would fade, but Jasper didn’t seem to believe him. Bellamy knew he was right, though. When two people _really_ liked each other, it just felt natural.

****

_When the door to the changing room swung open and Clarke stepped out in a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader costume, Bellamy almost passed out. She’d entertained him by trying on a lot of sexy costumes this afternoon—Britney spears schoolgirl get-up, Catwoman jumpsuit, and Playboy bunny just to name a few—but this look . . . this was_ the _look right here. Her Rockets cheerleading uniform was hot as hell on her, but these white shorts were little more than underwear, and this long-sleeved blue midriff made her breasts look like they were just about ready to pop right out. And the boots . . . oh the white boots. They made her legs look longer than they actually were._

_“Ta-da,” she said, striking a few poses. “What do you think?”_

_He just sat there, mouth open, tongue practically hanging out, speechless._

_“I take it you like it?” she deduced._

_“I love it.” Even though her parents would never let her out of the house dressed like that, he didn’t see any harm in purchasing the costume anyway. Maybe if they needed to spice things up sometime, she’d wear it for him._

_“I feel like my ass is hanging out,” she admitted as she tried to tug down on the shorts._

_“Here, let me help you out with that,” he readily offered, standing up. He backed her into the dressing room and went right in with her, shutting the door and sliding the lock into place._

_“Bellamy!” she squealed._

_“Shh,” he said, pressing his index finger to her soft lips. He sank down to his knees and grabbed the waistline of her shorts, pulling them down over the curve of her ass. With how small they were, she couldn’t wear any underwear underneath, so he was immediately greeted with the sight of her pussy. He gave it a few strokes just to get her all wet and wanting, then lowered the shorts down over the boots so she could step out of them._

_“We can’t do this here,” she whispered._

_“Why not?” It was one of those doors that went all the way down to the ground, so unless someone had seen him duck in there, no one had to know._

_She didn’t have an answer to that question, but she did have a nervous look in her eye._

_“Do you trust me?” he asked her quietly, grabbing her ankles to try to spread her legs open._

_She allowed him to do that, looked down at him, and let out a shaky exhale. “I trust you,” she said._

_God, hearing her say that was a fucking rush. Girls like Bree talked dirty to him, which he didn’t hate, but . . . hearing Clarke say she trusted him was somehow an even bigger turn-on._

_First he kissed her stomach, right below her bellybutton. Then he kissed his way down to her inner thigh, switching from one to the other as she pressed her hips outward from the wall. Once she’d really opened herself up to him, he moved in practically underneath her, kneeling right in between her legs, and sloshed his tongue up into her, trying to keep it as quiet as he could. But if anyone got in close to their door and heard the sounds this was making, or heard his heavy breathing, they’d know. Hell if he cared, though. He had a cheerleader to pleasure, and nothing was going to stop him._

****

Located on the edge of town, Frightfest was bustling when Bellamy and Jasper got there on Thursday night. It was the end of the quarter, so the high school students didn’t have school the next day. And it wasn’t like they had anything better to do, so they all went and hung out there. The pumpkin patch would remain open all year, but the haunted house set-up, a seasonal business, would only be open for a couple weeks. It was something different for the town, just like the carnival had been. It broke up the mundane routine. And Bellamy had to admit, his routine had gotten _very_ mundane these past few nights. The night he’d gone over to Finn’s had been the last night he’d even gone out. Last night, since his mom had gotten home from work earlier, they’d stayed up until midnight watching the Game Show Network together. The _Game Show Network_. He felt geriatric.

“So when’s Maya gonna show up?” he asked Jasper as they waited by the fire pit, where some people had chosen to roast marshmallows. It wasn’t a super cold night, but roasted s’mores were always good.

“Any minute now,” his friend said. “She said her car’s a piece of crap.”

_Welcome to the club_ , Bellamy thought. He’d had trouble getting his started this morning. “And this is your guys’ first date?” he asked.

“It’s not a date. We’re just . . . hanging out,” Jasper corrected.

“Then why am I here?” There was a Family Feud marathon on tonight. He and his mom liked to play along to that one.

“You know how, when a kid learns how to ride a bike, they use training wheels?” Jasper said.

Bellamy shook his head. “No, I never used training wheels.”

“Oh, of course not. Well, I did,” Jasper said. “I used training wheels for three years.”

Had he ever even graduated to an actual bike with just two wheels then? Jasper had usually walked to school when it was warm out, so . . . probably not. “So Maya’s the bike you wanna ride . . .” he said, figuring out the comparison, “and I’m you’re training wheels?”

Jasper patted him on the back. “Exactly.”

He made a face. “No, I’m gonna be the third wheel. I don’t even know the girl.”

“Relax,” Jasper said. “I invited someone for you, too.”

“Who?” If it was Bree, he gonna have to get a body guard. If it was Roma, he wasn’t sure he could listen to her bitch and complain about her kid all night.

“Your favorite bike to ride,” Jasper said, waving at somebody. “Clarke!”

Bellamy spun around and spotted Clarke picking her way through a particularly rambunctious group of middle school boys. Or at least they looked like middle schoolers. They’d all gotten some cotton candy from the concession stand and were chasing each other and sticking it in each other’s hair.

“Hey, Jasper,” she said as she sidled up to them. “Bellamy.” She didn’t smile when she saw him like she usually did. In fact, she seemed surprised to see him. “What’re you doing here?”

He shrugged, still not completely sure of the answer himself. “Jasper wanted a wing-man.”

“But I thought he might wanna hang out with you,” Jasper added, “while I’m hanging out with Maya.”

“Maya?” Clarke echoed.

“Yeah. She’s a sophomore, nursing student, somehow not completely repulsed by me, and--”

“On her own way over here right now,” Bellamy said when he noticed that dark-haired girl coming their way.

“What? Oh, shit.” Jasper immediately started to panic, tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt, and did a breath check. “How do I look?” he asked them. “Do I look okay?

“You look great, Jasper,” Clarke told him.

“Just play it cool, man,” Bellay advised.

“I don’t know how to be cool,” Jasper said, but he plastered on a smile when Maya got to them. “Hey, Maya!” he exclaimed.

“Hey,” she said. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay. Maya, these are my friends Bellamy and Clarke,” Jasper introduced them. “Guys, this is Maya.”

“Hi,” Clarke said.

“Hi,” Maya echoed.

It took a nudge from Clarke for Bellamy to remember to say, “Nice to meet you.”

“Thanks,” she said. An awkward silence descended upon the four of them until she motioned to the haunted house and said, “Should we go in there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jasper said, “that sounds good.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Clarke said. “You two go ahead.”

Jasper shot Bellamy a semi-scared look, but Bellamy just nodded. The kid had to realize that he didn’t need a wing-man. He could hang out with Maya tonight and be just fine. It could be an actual date, just the two of them. Maybe she was already hoping that was what it was.

When Jasper and Maya had gotten in line for the haunted house (annoyingly dubbed the Mystery Manor), Clarke turned to Bellamy and said, “I didn’t know he invited you.”

“I didn’t know he invited _you_ ,” he said, just to make it clear that he hadn’t been a part of this.

“Do you think he’s trying to set us up?” she asked.

“Like on a date?” He grunted. “Who knows? He says this isn’t even a date with Maya.” Raven or Miller was probably a lot more likely to lure them into a double-date scenario than Jasper was, but Jasper wasn’t stupid. He may have had a plan in mind here, too.

Clarke looked so gorgeous tonight. She had on ripped jeans and a loose, long-sleeved white top. On anyone else, it may have looked plain, but on her, it just looked phenomenal. There was barely enough of her short hair to put up in a half ponytail, but she managed it. He used to love her long hair, so he’d hoped she would never cut it, but now that she had, he really dug this look, too.

“I’m kinda surprised you came,” he said, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he was ogling her.

“Why?” she said.

“Just . . . pregnant girl, haunted house . . .” He wasn’t really sure where he was going with that. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“Nothing, just--”

“What am I supposed to do, just sit home and watch game shows?” She huffed. “No, come on, let’s do this haunted house. I’m not scared.” She marched off towards the back of the line, and he followed her, wondering if she was still pissed at him about going to see Finn or if the wild pregnancy hormones were kicking in. She seemed snippier than usual, maybe a little on edge. He wasn’t about to accuse her of having mood swings or anything, but . . . it seemed likely.

Frightfest was split into three separate ‘haunted areas.’ Mystery Manor was the biggest, but there was also the so-called Spooky Shack behind it, as well as the Whispering Woods. Bellamy hadn’t come here for years, and although not much had changed, he still got startled when people jumped out at him. He tried not to be a wimp about it, though, especially since Clarke moved through the house in front of him completely unfazed. A guy dressed up like a vampire started to walk alongside her, but she just flat-out told him, “That’s annoying. Stop following me.”

Next, they went through the Spooky Shack, which Bellamy found to be ten times creepier because it was almost pitch black in there. When someone in monster mask jumped out at them, he yelped a little bit, but Clarke just said, “Ooh, so scary,” sarcastically and continued on. He gladly stayed behind her, happy to let her take the lead.

He would have been fine—more than fine—with just doing those two, but she mumbled that they might as well do the Whispering Woods trail while they were out there, and he gulped as he followed along behind her. He remembered this trail. People with fake chainsaws chased you. They were literally getting paid to try to scare you, and even though those chainsaws weren’t real, they _sounded_ really, and it made him flash back to every scary movie his mom had forbade him from watching but he’d watched anyway. _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ among them.

When he heard the chainsaws, Bellamy just wanted to run, but Clarke maintained the same pace, walking leisurely as people scrambled around them. He kept looking back over his shoulder, afraid that somebody would come at him from behind, and he was so busy doing that that he didn’t even notice somebody jump out of the trees right in front of them. Clarke did, though, and she kicked him right in the nuts.

“Ah!” he cried, dropping his chainsaw as he doubled over in pain. “Jesus Christ, lady! What’d you do that for?”

“Well, that’s what you get for jumping out at people,” she said. “Come on, Bellamy.” She kept right on walking, and Bellamy felt like he had no choice but to follow her.

“Sorry, bro,” he said on his way past. No time to stop. The end of this trail was within his sights now, and he couldn’t wait to get off of it.

Clarke was hungry after that, so they headed over to the concession stand to get some food. He wasn’t sure where Jasper and Maya had wandered off to, but he hoped they were somewhere either making out or fucking.

With her arms crossed over her chest, Clarke waited in line with him, not saying much.

“You don’t seem like you’re having fun,” he noted.

“Raven dragged me here last year,” she said. “Wasn’t scary then, isn’t scary now.”

Wasn’t scary? He’d almost pissed his pants in the shack. “Well, I bet Jasper and Maya are having fun,” he predicted.

“They don’t even need us here,” she said. “It was totally a set-up. Jasper and Raven and all our friends from high school . . . you know they’re gonna expect us to get back together.”

Yeah, he knew, but . . . something about the way she said that made him frown. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, Jasper doesn’t even know I’m pregnant,” she pointed out. “He doesn’t know why we . . . can’t.”

_Can’t?_ What the hell kind of word was that? They _could_ if they wanted to. It just wasn’t gonna be as easy as it may have once been. “Why can’t we?” he challenged, staying still as the line inched forward.

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, then groaned, “Oh, come on, Bellamy,” and walked out of line.

“What?” Once again, he followed her, just like he’d been doing all night. “Why are you so pissed at me?”

She stopped at the fire pit, where the flames were truly roaring now. It almost looked like more of a bonfire. “I’m not pissed,” she claimed.

“Yes, you are.” Maybe there were pregnancy hormones involved, but he couldn’t chalk it all up to that. They hadn’t called each other, seen each other, or even texted each other for a couple days now, and that had all started because of one thing. “Is this still about me talking to Finn?”

“Well, I’m still not thrilled about that,” she admitted. “Look, Bellamy, I’m so on edge right now. It literally takes nothing to set me off.”

_I noticed_ , he thought. So had the chainsaw guy.

“I’ve had a stressful week, and trying to figure things out with you isn’t making things any less stressful,” she ranted. “I mean, I thought we were on the same page about all of this. Just friends. Right?”

Maybe he’d agreed to that, but . . . “I don’t know.”

“What?” she shrieked. “What do you mean you don’t _know_? Bellamy, we _said_ \--”

“I know what we said!” he yelled back, realizing that they were starting to garner some stares from other people around the fire now. “But I don’t know how to just be friends with you, Clarke. I don’t know how.”

“You just have to figure it out,” she said, like it was that simple.

“Like you have?” he countered. “You got it all figured out? When you look at me, do you only see a friend now?”

She looked _right_ at him, and her bottom lip quivered.

“Didn’t think so,” he said.

“Bellamy, we have to _try_ ,” she insisted vehemently.

“I’ve been trying! But I don’t know what to do.” He’d limited it to a cheek kiss at the carnival, and he’d made her mac-and-cheese, and he’d gone to lunch with her and just _talked_ , and the talking was great and all, but he wanted so much more. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to flirt with you, or if I’m allowed to touch you, or if I’m touching you too much,” he carried on. “I don’t—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Clarke. But I know what I _wanna_ do and . . .” He trailed off as thoughts of his wants clouded his mind. “Dammit.” She looked so pretty right now, and this firelight just illuminated her whole face in this warm glow.

“What?” she pressed, throwing her hands up in the air. “What do you wanna do?”

His fingers felt like they were burning, even though they weren’t close to the flames. “This,” he said, cupping her face as he kissed her without any second-guessing or regard for the consequences. It just felt so fucking right, her lips latched with his, fitting together perfectly. She must have been caught off-guard, but she still kissed him back, and she didn’t make any effort to push him away. Not even in the slightest.

The fire roared behind them, and Bellamy felt like he wasn’t gonna be able to stop at kissing. At least not tonight.

They barely made it back to her place before tearing each other’s clothes off. Their mouths continued to mate together as he thrust into her at a steady pace. It felt good to feel her lips beneath his, pressed into an giddy, lustful smile as he made love to her. Felt good to feel her breasts sticking to his chest because of how sweaty the both were. And her hands on his arms and back, her legs coiled around him to pull him in deeper . . . that was amazing. Being inside her was like nothing else he’d ever experienced. With anyone. Anywhere.

He grinned against her mouth and cheek as he continued to kiss her. Being with her right now, on top of her, writhing with her . . . it made him feel so damn lucky. And happy, too. God, he felt so fucking happy.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_

Staying awake in bio was a real challenge the next day. Try as she might, Clarke couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open. Whenever they fell shut, she sort of jolted and squirmed around to try to stay awake, but eventually that tactic stopped working. While Professor Jaha talked about . . . something, she sat in the back of the lecture hall, nodding off. She didn’t even know class was over until the person next to her slammed his book shut and got up.

She’d read about fatigue on several of the pregnancy apps she’d downloaded. It was to be expected, especially when she’d stayed up late last night with Bellamy. It didn’t help that her bladder was still calling her to the bathroom every couple of hours at night, either. She only got to sleep in spurts.

As she was leaving the classroom, intending to go find a comfy chair in the student union and nap until her next class, Professor Jaha called to her. “Clarke. Do you have a minute?”

_Oh, no, am I in trouble?_ she wondered as she turned back around. Falling asleep in class was super disrespectful.

“Is everything okay?” he asked her once everyone else had pretty much cleared out.

Well, everything was pretty chaotic, so she refrained from giving him an actual answer and instead responded with another question. “What makes you ask?”

“You slept through my lecture,” he noted. “Again.”

Oh god, how many times had it happened? She’d been a little drowsy last week, too, but she thought she’d managed to stay awake. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I haven’t been sleeping soundly these past couple weeks and . . .” She probably just could have squashed the conversation by revealing that she was pregnant, but if she told Jaha, Jaha would tell Wells, and Wells would either get a hold of her to congratulate her or tell more people in their graduating class about it. “I’ve got some stuff going on,” she told him vaguely, “but I’ll try to do better.” On average, only twenty-five people graduated Arkadia State with an academic record of straight A’s. She intended to be one of them even with a baby on the way.

“You should visit the health center here on campus,” Jaha advised. “They’ve got some over-the-counter medications for insomnia. That might help.”

She really doubted they would, and she didn’t want to take anything over-the-counter without a doctor’s approval. But she said, “Yeah, I’ll . . . do that,” anyway. “Thanks.” She headed to the door, managing to slip out of there before her professor once again asked if she’d nailed down her plans for medical school. Once she was showing, it wouldn’t even be necessary to tell him med school was going to have to wait.

As she walked down the hallway, still feeling tired and for some reason craving Doritos and yogurt, Clarke thought about wandering past the construction site at the library, just to see if Bellamy was working. He’d left early this morning—something about his mom needing a ride to work because her car wouldn’t start—and she’d been so drowsy that she’d barely managed to say goodbye. She didn’t want to distract him while he was on the job, but . . . they probably needed to talk about what had happened last night.

When she was halfway down the hallway, she felt the need to visit the bathroom again, so she stopped, turned back around, and ducked into the nearest one. There were only three stalls, and all of them were full, so she patiently waited her turn. By the time one opened up, she could barely hold it. She sat down on the toilet and actually closed her eyes while she peed, because just getting to relieve her bladder felt so nice and, for the moment at least, relaxing.

When she glanced down at her underwear, that feeling of relaxation vanished. And it was replaced by something that felt very much like dread. Because there was a brownish-red patch of dried blood in her underwear. Just a small circle of it, but it was there. And it wasn’t like these were period panties, either, so there was no reason for it to be there. _No_ reason.

A nervous tingle zig-zagged up her spine, and she immediately stood up, checking the toilet for more blood. There was none, but still . . . there was blood in her underwear. There was _blood_ in her underwear, and she was pregnant. Did that mean . . . couldn’t that mean . . .

_No_ , she thought, trying not to let the horrible thought cross her mind. But it did, and it terrified her.

Pulling her underwear and leggings back up, unable to stand the sight of that blood anymore, she reached into the side of her backpack for her phone. Frantically, with shaking fingers, she pressed a few buttons to call her mother, then moved around the stall, waiting for an answer.

It just kept ringing.

“Mom, pick up,” she whispered. “Please, pick up.” She didn’t know what to do. Obviously something wasn’t right, but she didn’t know what was wrong. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to do anything to make it worse.

Unfortunately, her mom’s voicemail came on, which meant she was probably at work right now. Clarke whimpered, didn’t bother to leave a message, and nearly dropped her phone because her hands were trembling so much. She was so worried she was bleeding even more right now, even though it didn’t feel like she was. All she could picture was that little fuzzy blob on the sonogram somehow leaving her body, and it made her feel like breaking down.

_Hold it together_ , she told herself, trying to come up with a plan. She couldn’t just stay in that stall. She had to walk to the parking lot, get in her car, and get to the hospital right now. It wasn’t far away. Nothing in Arkadia was. She could be there in ten minutes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Usually, the only reason Clarke went to the hospital was for her yearly physical, to get a flu shot, or to see her mom. Even though she wasn’t there very much, she knew a lot of the people who worked there from her mom’s charity events, and they all knew her, too. When she spilled in the big double doors at the emergency entrance and approached Gaia at the front desk, Gaia beamed a smile and greeted, “Hi, Clarke. You here to see your mom?”

“No, I’m bleeding,” she blurted out as tears stung her eyes.

Gaia stood up a bit to peer over the counter. “Where?” she asked.

Maybe it wasn’t visible, but it was _there_ , and she needed someone to tell her what was going on. “I’m pregnant, and I’m bleeding,” she explained as calmly as she could. “So I need to see someone about it. Now.”

“Oh, okay, slow down,” Gaia said, her expression shifting into one of sympathy. “How far along are you?”

“I’m in my tenth week.” She knew the first trimester was when she was at her highest risk for miscarriage, and the first trimester lasted until week twelve. She wasn’t out of it yet.

“And are you bleeding heavily?” Gaia asked her quietly.

“No. It was just a little bit,” she replied, her voice cloaked with unshed tears. “It was . . . dried.”

“And are you in any pain?”

“No, but I’m worried.”

“Okay, let me get a hold of Dr. Tsing,” Gaia said, already picking up her phone. “We’ll make sure you get examined today.”

Clarke’s lower lip quivered, and she had to ask, “Is my mom around?” Because yeah, it really _would_ make her feel better to see her.

“She’s with patients,” Gaia said. “As soon as she’s free, I’ll let her know you’re here, okay? Why don’t you just sit down and wait?”

_Wait?_ she thought bitterly, reluctantly slumping into the waiting room. _Wait for what? To find out if I’m still pregnant?_

The seats in the waiting room weren’t particularly comfortable, but at least no one else was in there, so Clarke didn’t have to feel embarrassed about reaching down in between her legs to check and see if her leggings were damp. They weren’t, so she didn’t seem to be bleeding right now. That didn’t mean everything was alright, though. Why the hell was she bleeding at all if she was pregnant? What if it was the start of a miscarriage and she’d bleed more heavily later? What if she couldn’t stop it?

“Is she out here?” she heard her mom ask a few minutes later. Gaia pointed into the waiting room, then spoke in hushed voice to her. When Clarke’s mom rounded the corner, she wearing her long white doctor’s coat and had a stethoscope around her neck. Her eyes shimmered with worried tears, too. “Clarke,” she said, coming to sit down beside. “Oh, honey, they told me you were here. Are you okay?”

Clarke wiped her eyes and mumbled, “I don’t know.” If she knew the answer to that question, she wouldn’t have had to come. “Did anyone tell you what’s going on?”

“Yes,” her mom said, looking at her sadly. “When did you notice?”

“Right after class.” Had it happened while she’d just been sitting there sleeping? “I didn’t know what to do, so I just came straight here.”

“You did the right thing,” her mother assured her, gently rubbing her back. “How much is it? About the size of a quarter? Or more than that?”

Clarke made a circle out of her thumb and pointer finger, about the size of a quarter, and mentally compared that to what she’d seen on her underwear. “Maybe just a little bit more,” she said. “Is that bad?”

Her mom was silent for a moment, then said, “It could be anything.”

“But am I having a miscarriage?” It was horrible to feel so powerless, like something might be happening to that baby and to her body right now, something she couldn’t prevent.

“I hope not,” her mom said. “You don’t feel any cramps, do you?”

“No.”

“Then that’s good. That’s a good sign.”

It was? Was there even such a thing as a good sign right now? Wasn’t it all just bad?

“This happens all the time, Clarke, to so many women,” her mother assured her. “Sometimes it’s serious, but sometimes it’s not. Everything might be just fine.”

Clarke took that in and nodded, allowing herself to be comforted just a little bit by those words. “How can we tell?” she asked.

“Well, Dr. Tsing’s going to come in. It might take her a while to get here. She rotates hospitals, so she was out of town today,” her mom explained. “But she’s an OBGYN. She can do an ultrasound and check and see what’s going on in there, and she’ll be able to put your mind more at ease than I can. Alright?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, really wishing he mom could just do an ultrasound right now. But her mom was a general surgeon. She didn’t know how to do an ultrasound. She was lucky there was a doctor in Arkadia who was qualified, otherwise she’d have to go out of town to the imaging center again.

“So I just have to wait,” she said, curling her legs up onto the seat.

“Until she gets here, yes.” Her mom stroked her hair lovingly and advised, “Just try to stay calm, okay? I know that’s hard to do right now, but getting worked up won’t help anything. You just stay calm for the baby and say some prayers.”

Clarke sometimes prayed for stupid things, like an A on a test or a pair of jeans that would fit just right. This sort of put things in perspective, though. This was the kind of thing she should be praying about. This was life or death.

“Abby,” Gaia called into the waiting room. “They said they need you back in surgery now.”

Clarke’s mom sighed.

“Do you have to go?” Clarke asked. She’d feel so much better waiting there with her mom instead of waiting there by herself.

“Yeah, I do,” her mother replied. “Are you gonna be okay?”

_Don’t be selfish_ , Clarke thought. She wasn’t the only one in that hospital who needed her mom right now. For all she knew, whatever surgery was going on could be a serious one, just as serious as this. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Her mom nodded sadly—it was probably hard for her to do her job on top of worrying about her daughter—and promised, “I’ll be back out as soon as I can.” She kissed the side of Clarke’s head, then got up and headed out, waiting until she was rounding the corner to let her tears fall. Clarke didn’t see them, but she heard the sniffling. Her mom could sit here and console her and try to make her feel as reassured as possible, but they both knew that there was a chance that something was seriously wrong.

Clarke wasn’t sure where this other hospital was and how far Dr. Tsing would have to travel to get back to Arkadia. She wasn’t sure how long it would take, and she didn’t get a chance to ask Gaia, because the phone rang, and she had to take the call. A solitary tear rolled down Clarke’s right cheek, and she felt like more were going to follow. She didn’t want to sit there, crying by herself for what might end up being hours. She needed someone to be there.

Even though she’d left her backpack in the car, she’d at least had the sense to grab her phone and bring that in with her. She pulled it out of her pocket and went to her contacts list, scrolling down past Bellamy’s name to Finn’s. She knew she should call him, because even though they were still waiting on the official paternity test results, this was his baby. If something was going wrong, he deserved to know.

Her thumb hovered over his name, but she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Instead, she moved her thumb downward, scrolling up on the screen. She stopped at Bellamy’s name and again hesitated. It wasn’t Bellamy’s baby. Yet, he knew more about it than Finn did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy stood in line with Roan at Arby’s, looking up to survey the vast array of sandwiches on the menu. “I feel like I’m gonna get fat with all this fast food for lunch,” he said.

“Don’t sweat it,” Roan said. “You have any idea how many calories we burn on an average day of work? Our jobs aren’t easy.”

“That’s true.” Bellamy felt like he wasn’t going to have to worry about the gym anymore, at least not when it came to lifting. Roan was jacked, and he’d been doing construction for years.

As they shuffled closer to the front of the line, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Grabbing it, he saw he had a text. From Clarke.

At first, he blinked in confusion as he read what it said: _Can you come to the hospital?_ He wondered if she was having another ultrasound until she sent him a clarifying message that read, _I might be having a miscarriage._

His heart sank in an instant.

“What is it?” Roan asked.

That last word just stared up at him, and he felt like it was just getting bigger and bolder. _A miscarriage._ “Something’s wrong,” he said.

“What, your mom?” Roan asked. “Your sister?”

He gulped.

“Your girlfriend?”

Bellamy quickly texted back that he was on his way, then pocketed his phone and shot out of line. “I have to go,” he said, heading for the door. “Can you tell Emerson?”

“Yeah, sure,” Roan said, “but what’s wrong?”

He shoved open the door.

“Bellamy!”

Running outside, he felt like he couldn’t get in the car and start it up fast enough. He drove over the speed limit, getting to the hospital as quickly as he could. He went in the wrong entrance, though—he went in the clinic—and had to run outside around to the emergency room. The automatic doors slid open for him, and he spotted Clarke in the waiting room right after he walked inside. She was just sitting there with her head lowered, her hands in her lap, and didn’t even look up at him. Maybe she didn’t hear him come in.

“Hey, Princess,” he said softly.

She lifted her head, and her eyes met his. Tear tracks stained her cheeks.

Every inch of him just ached. It was like, whatever pain she was feeling, he felt it in that moment, too. He sat down beside her, wishing he could take it all from her, that he could bear it all so she didn’t have to.

“Thanks for coming,” she mumbled. “I know I probably shouldn’t have texted, but . . .”

“No, I’m glad you did.” He couldn’t imagine just being at Arby’s with Roan while something like this was going happening. “What’s going on?”

“Well . . .” It took her a moment to choke out, “There was blood in my underwear. Not a lot, but . . . enough to freak me out.”

_Oh, shit_ , he thought, trying not to wince or grimace. That wasn’t good, though, right? That was what happened when women had miscarriages. “Did you talk to a doctor?” he asked her.

“Just my mom for a little bit,” she said. “She says it might be nothing. _Might_ be.”

He wasn’t that knowledgeable when it came to pregnancies, on account of only being five years old when his mom had given birth to Octavia, so he couldn’t really offer up any alternative explanations. “What else might it be?” he asked, wondering if her mom had told her anything specific to try to keep her calm.

“I don’t know. I’ve been too afraid to look anything up,” she said. Facing away, she mumbled, “I feel like I’m getting punished.”

“What?” That just didn’t make any sense. Clarke was a good person. She didn’t deserve this. “What would you be getting punished for?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Clarke . . .” He reached over and took one of her hands in both of his, holding it tightly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She looked back over at him, meeting his eyes again. Hers were just full of worry. “What if it’s not?”

“It’s gonna be,” he persisted, even though he couldn’t be sure of that. “So what happens now?”

“I have to wait for this other doctor to get here. She’s gonna do an ultrasound,” she explained. She smiled sadly and recalled, “Remember the last one? We heard the heartbeat. That was pretty cool.”

He remembered that. It’d sounded like a thunderstorm or like an army marching rapidly or something. It _had_ been pretty awesome. “You’ll hear it again today,” he assured her. Right now, she had to believe that. He didn’t want her just automatically assuming the worst.

“You don’t have to stay if you have to get back to work,” she said, her voice cracking.

He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Bellamy--”

“ _Clarke_.” It wasn’t an option. He was staying. “I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, leaving no room for debate.

She didn’t try to argue it further, and he saw the look of relief on her face. It was pretty obvious she didn’t wanna be alone right now, so there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to leave her that way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dr. Tsing had always looked like a slightly older version of Princess Jasmine to Clarke. She had that long, dark, cascading hair and a darker complexion. She was the kind of doctor who wore high heels and had perfect make-up, the kind of doctor one saw on the medical dramas on TV. She was very pretty, but more importantly, she was very comforting. She started off first by giving Clarke a routine examination, taking her weight, her blood pressure, her temperature, all of which she noted were within the normal range. Then she had Clarke pull her pants down to show her the spotting in her underwear. Nothing had changed from earlier in the bathroom. It was still the same reddish-brown color and still the same size. Clarke had to pee so badly, though, that they had to pause the examination and let her do that before continuing.

When she came out of the bathroom, relieved that there hadn’t been any blood on the toilet paper or in the toilet itself, it was time for the ultrasound. Dr. Tsing dimmed the lights and told her to lie back on the examination table. Her mom stood behind her, a quiet but supportive presence.

“I remember when you used to come in and job-shadow your mom,” Dr. Tsing said as she lifted Clarke’s shirt, “back in high school.”

Yeah, that’d been easier to do than job-shadowing any artists or musicians.

“They had to do a certain number of hours of that every year,” her mother told her colleague.

When Clarke first felt the cold goopy gel on her stomach, she had flashbacks to the last time she’d had this done, and when she thought of that, she thought about whose hand she’d been holding. “Mom, I want Bellamy in here,” she blurted. She just felt like she needed to hold his hand again.

“Is he the baby’s father?” Dr. Tsing inquired.

“No,” her mom answered quickly.

“But I want him in here,” Clarke said. “Please?”

A bit reluctantly, her mother said, “I’ll go get him,” and stepped out of the room.

Dr. Tsing continued to smear the gel around Clarke’s stomach, and to her credit, she didn’t prod about who Bellamy was or why Clarke was so insistent on having him back there. Instead, she asked, “Have you had an ultrasound before?”

“Yeah. One.” The pictures from it were still up on her refrigerator.

“So you kind of know what to expect. We’ll do a vaginal one after this, just to confirm everything we’re seeing.”

Clarke swallowed hard, still bracing herself for the very real possibility that this ultrasound might be . . . different. “What if we don’t see anything?”

“Well, I’m hoping we will.” The door to the room opened, and Dr. Tsing smiled pleasantly when Bellamy walked in with Clarke’s mom. “Hello there,” she said.

“Hi.” He didn’t pay the doctor much attention and instead came right to Clarke, asking, “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m scared,” she whispered, holding her hand out for his. He clasped it, and somehow, that simple touch made her feel just a little bit better.

Her mom returned to standing behind the examination table, and she smoothed Clarke’s hair away from her face. She told her she was doing so good, and all three of them watched on the monitor as Dr. Tsing navigated around what was inside her belly, gradually producing a clearer image. Clarke remembered that black areas meant fluid, so she knew that if she saw too much black, that wasn’t a good thing. But she thought she could make out the outline of a baby even before the doctor pointed it out.

“There it is,” Dr. Tsing said happily. “There’s the baby.”

Clarke could see it, the big head, the small body. It looked even more like a tiny human than the last time she’d seen it. “Is it okay?” she asked, still worried. What if it was in there but it wasn’t even alive anymore? Could that happen?

“Looks like it’s developing nicely,” Dr. Tsing said, doing a quick measurement. “See how it’s got some little feet now, and even little knees?”

_Feet and knees_ , Clarke thought, staring at the fuzzy image in astonishment. It did have feet and knees. She could sort of see them.

“Does it look a little bigger than last time?” Dr. Tsing asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” One of her apps had said it was the size of a kumquat now. Whatever that was.

“Do you see the heartbeat, Clarke?” her mom asked, pointing up to the screen. “Do you see that flashing?”

“Uh-huh.” A few tears seeped out of her eyes. If there was flashing, then that meant her baby was very much alive.

“Let’s listen to that,” Dr. Tsing said. Just like last time, she was able to do something that allowed them to pick up the sound of the heartbeat. It was a little slower this time, but Clarke had read that that was how it was supposed to be. “That sounds strong. Right where we want it to be,” Dr. Tsing said. “You can’t see it yet, but your baby’s got fingernails and toenails forming now, Clarke. And the vital organs are developing. Brain, liver, kidneys . . .”

Clarke watched as the little blob on the screen changed shape a bit. “Is it moving?” she asked.

“Yeah, it is.” Dr. Tsing laughed a little, and it moved some more. “Look at that.”

“That’s so cool,” Bellamy said quietly. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, but she was pretty sure he was smiling.

“So everything looks okay?” her mom asked.

“Everything looks completely normal,” Dr. Tsing confirmed.

“Then why was I bleeding?” Clarke questioned. That just didn’t seem normal to her.

“Well, it’s not uncommon.” Dr. Tsing kept moving the transducer around her abdomen, exploring other parts of her insides now. “They say anywhere from twenty to twenty-five percent of mothers experience bleeding in the first trimester. There wasn’t much blood, and it wasn’t a deep color. No tissue expelled. I’m not very concerned at all, Clarke. It could just be related to hormonal changes, or cervical changes.”

“Cervical changes?” Clarke echoed, not exactly sure what that meant.

“Some women have spotting after exercise or physical activity,” Dr. Tsing explained, “or after sexual intercourse.”

Clarke’s eyes got wide, and that time she _did_ look over at Bellamy. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You think that might be it?” Dr. Tsing guessed.

It was an embarrassing thing to own up to with her mom standing right there, but oh, well. It was what it was. “Yeah, possibly,” she said.

“Possibly,” Bellamy agreed quietly.

Dr. Tsing looked like she was suppressing a smile, like she was perhaps amused by the two of them, then lifted the transducer off of Clarke’s stomach. “We’ll still do a vaginal ultrasound,” she said, “but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Just monitor it for the next few days, come back in if it continues or gets any heavier.”

“So . . . so should I not be having sex while I’m pregnant?” Clarke asked. “Did I do this?”

“Oh, no, sex is perfectly normal and even healthy during pregnancy,” Dr. Tsing assured her as she wiped the gel off her stomach. “It can help you sleep better, lower your blood pressure, reduce stress. All those things are good for you _and_ your baby. You might feel some cramping after an orgasm, particularly later on in your pregnancy, but it’s completely normal. I’d say _all_ of this is completely normal. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Clarke felt an overwhelming surge of relief, like a wave crashing onto the shore. “So everything’s okay?” she said, repeating her mom’s question.

“Everything’s okay,” Dr. Tsing confirmed. “I would like you to abstain from sex for a few days, just to see if the bleeding stops. But as long as you go a few days without any symptoms like cramps or fever or more bleeding, then you’re free to start back up again.” She gave Bellamy a look after she said that, a smiling one, but Clarke had a feeling he was getting a much different one from her mom. Maybe not a glare, exactly, but . . . not a smile, either.

Clarke didn’t care, though. _She_ smiled, for the first time in hours. Waiting for this second ultrasound had been torture, and she hadn’t anticipated having one done today. But seeing that flashing heartbeat and getting to watch the baby actually _move_ meant the wait had been worth it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was pretty late by the time they left the hospital. Waiting had taken up most of the afternoon. Bellamy ended up going to get some dinner with Abby and Clarke. He was hungry as hell—the only lunch he’d ended up having was a bag of Doritos out of the vending machine, and Clarke had eaten half of it—but being around Clarke’s mom was so nerve-racking that he couldn’t even fully enjoy his food. It wasn’t that Abby had ever outright hated him or anything; it was just that he never felt like he’d fully gotten her approval. And even nowadays, that feeling hadn’t changed.

He didn’t really say a whole lot while they ate, mostly because he didn’t have much input when it came to maternity bras, and that was the topic of conversation. Clarke complained that her current bras were starting to feel really uncomfortable, so her mom said they could go to Kohl’s or Target and get some better ones that weekend. He felt like _such_ a guy, because while they talked, all he could do was picture her already large breasts growing a size or two larger. Last night, he _had_ noticed that they were bigger. He hadn’t said anything, of course, but . . . he’d enjoyed it.

After dinner, her mom headed home with the instruction, “Call me in the morning. I wanna check in with you.” She thanked Bellamy for being there today and made a point of telling him that he was a good friend. Never mind the fact that it’d been glaringly apparently today that he and her daughter had been a little more than friendly with each other last night.

“You want some company?” he asked Clarke before she could get in her car.

“Sure,” she said, smiling softly. It made him feel good to know that she’d wanted him there today and that she still wanted him around tonight.

He followed her to her place, and when they got inside, the first thing she did was walk over to her refrigerator and put the new ultrasound pictures up alongside the first ones. It almost looked like she was . . . proud. Which she deserved to be.

****

_When Bellamy walked into the gym with the rest of the team, it was utter chaos. The cheerleaders were hosting their annual junior cheer camp for all the elementary school girls. There must have been about seventy of them there. They were supposed to be learning cheers to ‘perform’ at the game tomorrow night, but mostly, it seemed like they were just running around screaming and pulling each other’s hair._

_Most of the guys high-tailed it into the locker room, but Bellamy hung back until Clarke caught sight of him. She ran his way and dramatically wailed, “Oh, Bellamy save me. These kids are so annoying.”_

_“Oh, no, you’re on your own,” he said. “I don’t want any part of that.”_

_She grunted. “Some knight in shining armor you are.”_

_“Hey, this is a_ cheerleader _event,” he reminded her. Then, motioning to himself, he said, “Football player.” Motioning in between the two of them, he said, “Football player, cheerleader. Football player, cheerleader. You see where I’m going with this?”_

_“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “Well, can you at least give me a kiss to help me make it through?”_

_“Oh, yeah.” He could pretty much give her a kiss no matter what._

_Their lips had barely even touched when a high-pitched, “Ew!” rang out. “You’re kissing a boy!”_

_Clarke looked over her shoulder at a little girl who was pointing at them and making a face. “There’s nothing ‘ew’ about it,” she said. “Look how cute he is.”_

_“Gross!” the little girl yelled, darting away._

_“What the . . .” He huffed. “Huh. I’ve never actually been called gross by a girl before.”_

_“Aww, poor thing,” she pretended to sympathize._

_He chuckled._

_“Clarke!” Raven shrieked suddenly. Bellamy looked over to the other side of the gym and saw that a group of little girls was trying to de-pants Raven. “A little help here!”_

_Clarke groaned._

_“Go,” he urged, turning her around. “Rescue Raven.” He had to give her a little push to get going, but eventually she started trudging that way. He didn’t envy any one of those cheerleaders right now. Kids were annoying._

_When he got into the locker room, a couple of the guys were showering, but most refused to shower with Miller in there. Rumors were starting to spread about his best friend—ones Bellamy knew were true—and some of his teammates were being pricks about it. Most of them were just changing directly from their uniforms into their clothes, but Bellamy planned on rinsing off. His mom might not have gotten the water bill paid on time, so it was possible he’d go home and not be able to shower there._

_“Gettin’ ideas?” one of his linemen, Dax, said to him._

_“Huh?” He sat down on the bench to take off his shoes._

_“You and Clarke,” Dax said. “You guys gonna add a little rugrat to that mix out there someday?”_

_What the fuck kind of question was that? They were way too young. “Yeah, right,” he said, not sure he’d ever have kids. That just seemed like a lot of responsibility._

_“Clarke’s hot, man,” a guy named Roger, a consistent benchwarmer, agreed. “I’d do her.”_

_“Yeah, me, too,” Dax agreed. “In fact, whenever you’re done with her, feel free to toss her on over to me.”_

_“And me,” Roger said._

_Bellamy wasn’t even sure who it was who said, “I’ll get in line for that,” but somebody did. He tried to ignore them, but they didn’t let up._

_“Does she give good head?” Dax asked. “‘cause she looks like the type of girl who’d give good head.”_

_“I think I’d fuck her tits first,” Roger said. “You done that yet?”_

_It wasn’t unusual for the guys to ask him about the girls he’d slept with, and honestly, sometimes he told them what they wanted to know. But he didn’t like them asking about Clarke, and he wasn’t gonna brag about his sex life with her. Even though it was lit. “Why don’t you guys shut up about Clarke, okay?” he suggested impatiently. “Don’t talk about her.”_

_Everyone fell silent for a moment until Dax apologized, “Sorry, man. We just thought, since you used to tell us about other girls . . .”_

_“Yeah, well, Clarke’s different.” At this point, Bree had sucked off half the football team, but Clarke wasn’t one of those girls. She was classier than that, and he wasn’t going to let her be the subject of locker room talk. Because locker room talk got pretty graphic sometimes._

_“Uh-oh,” Roger said teasingly. “Is Bellamy in love?”_

_Everyone laughed._

_“No,” he denied. “But I like her. A lot.” He rose to his feet, and that immediately shut the other guys up. “And I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you guys talk about her like she’s a thing,” he growled. “And if anyone tries, I’ll fuckin’ kick your ass. Got it?”_

_His teammates, many of them actual friends to him, all cowered a bit, and nodded or mumbled something in response. Yeah, they got it. Good._

****

Clarke sat down on the couch, sighing. “What a day.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sitting beside her. Hadn’t gone the way he’d expected it to, but it had all turned out fine. They could be grateful for that.

“I’m sorry I ruined your whole day,” she said apologetically.

“No, you didn’t ruin anything.” He would have hated being at work while all this was going on, not knowing. “I’m glad you texted me,” he told her, even though that text had worried the hell out of him. He was glad she’d had him come back in the examination room, too. After being there for the first ultrasound, it was kind of nice to be there for this one, too. “Can I ask you something?” he said, staring at her seriously.

She looked him in the eye and nodded.

There was something he’d been wondering about all afternoon, but it just hadn’t seemed like the right time to ask. Now, though, it did. “Why’d you get a hold of me instead of Finn?”

She thought about it for a moment, looked down at her lap, and mumbled, “Because I knew you’d come.”

“And you don’t think he would’ve?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

How was that even possible? Finn had been her boyfriend once, just like Bellamy had been, but unlike Bellamy, this was actually his kid. But he still hadn’t heard his kid’s heartbeat yet. Maybe he didn’t even want to.

“You can call me or text me anytime,” he told her. “Whenever you need anything.” It didn’t matter whether he was at work or with his mom or his sister or with friends. He’d drop whatever he was doing to be there for her. Someone had to be.

“I was so scared today, Bellamy,” she admitted quietly.

“Everything’s okay, though,” he reminded her.

“I know. But when I thought it wasn’t . . .” She trailed off, shuddering as she inhaled.

“Hey, shh,” he said, rubbing her back. “It’s alright.”

She nodded tearfully, sniffling. “I know this baby was technically an accident,” she said, “and when I first found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t . . . I wasn’t _happy_ about it.”

That was understandable, though. If she felt guilty about that, there was no reason to.

“But even though it wasn’t planned and I don’t know how it’s all gonna turn out,” she went on, “today made me realize that . . . I _don’t_ wanna lose it. I wanna have this baby.” She touched her stomach and repeated the words. “I _want_ this baby.”

He gazed at her intently, amazed and impressed by how brave she was being about all of this. His own mother had been brave like that once, and she’d ended up being the best parent he ever could have hoped to have. “Come here,” he said, putting his arm around Clarke’s shoulders. He pulled her to his side, and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Lightly stroking his fingers up and down her arm, he told her, “You’re a good mom.”

“I’m not a mom yet,” she responded.

Worrying about her kid? Focusing all her energy today on making sure he or she was okay? Putting its picture up on the refrigerator? That all sounded pretty mom-like to him. “Yeah, you are,” he said, giving the top of her head a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter well before Bob and Eliza ever spoke publicly about the tragic miscarriage they endured. Just wanted to say that my heart still breaks for them, and I hope and pray they have their baby someday.


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17_

Clarke decided to tell her friends about yesterday’s scare when they had coffee the next day. (Well, Harper and Raven had coffee. She was avoiding caffeine, even though it was supposed to be okay in moderation.) She sipped away on some tea that tasted like tar and told them what had happened, how scary it had been in the moment.

“Oh my god, Clarke,” Raven gasped. “That’s so nerve-racking. But you’re sure everything’s okay now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “The doctor sounded really sure.”

“Well, what caused it?” Harper asked.

For a split second, she thought back to being underneath Bellamy, moaning loudly as he thrust into her. “There’s a lot of stuff that can cause it,” she replied vaguely.

“Such as?” Harper prompted.

“Yeah, I mean, if you went to see a doctor, you should get some definitive answers,” Raven said.

These girls were her two closest friends, so if she couldn’t tell them, then who could she tell? “Sex,” she blurted. “Sex can cause it.”

“You had sex?” Raven’s face lit up as realization dawned on her. “With Bellamy? Again? Oh my god, I love this for you.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Harper questioned. “Are you back together or what?”

“No. Not really.” That didn’t exactly explain why they’d been _fucking_ together, though, so she added on, “I don’t know. It’s confusing, alright?”

“And does he know about all of this?” Harper asked.

“Yeah. He came to the hospital and--”

“He came to the hospital?” Raven interrupted. “He is _such_ a supportive boyfriend right now. Clarke, I can’t even.”

While Raven spun off into real-life shipping mode, Harper remained a bit more logical about everything. “Wait a minute,” she said, “so he was there . . . but where was Finn?”

_Not there_ , Clarke thought glumly. But then again, she hadn’t even bothered to call him. “He’s still not even a hundred percent convinced this is his child,” she mumbled.

Raven snorted. “What an ass. Sounds like Bellamy’s been more of a father to this baby than he’s been.”

Clarke wasn’t sure what to make of that remark. Because on the one hand, yeah, it was true. But on the other hand . . . it probably shouldn’t have been.

Her phone dinged, signaling her to a new email, and when she checked it, she saw it was exactly the one she’d been waiting for. “That might be about to change,” she said, holding up the screen so her friends could see what had just come in. “Test results.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For half an hour, Clarke waited to see if she got a phone call from Finn. He had access to the secure testing portal, too. They were both supposed to be able to see the results. But maybe he didn’t have his phone with him, or he hadn’t checked his email, or maybe he was still asleep or something. Because he didn’t call or text her.

She left her friends at the coffee shop in the middle of a conversation about what Raven and Murphy were planning on wearing for Halloween and drove over to her ex’s place. She found him outside, stuffing a huge bag of trash into the trash can next to his mailbox. Some of it was spilling out and going everywhere.

“Hey, you got a minute?” she said as she got out of her car.

He barely even looked at her. “I gotta be at work in half an hour.”

Finn had a job now? That was . . . encouraging. “Where are you working?” she asked.

He didn’t say anything.

“Come on, you can tell me,” she urged.

Bending down to pick up some cups and fast food wrappers that had fallen out, he muttered, “I’m a janitor, alright? On campus.”

Oh. She sort of understood why he hadn’t been very eager to tell her then, but it was still better than nothing. “Well, that’s fine,” she said, just happy that he was actually working. “It’s a job. I mean, look at me, I’m working at the bar.” They were probably gonna have to ask her parents for a little financial assistance with this baby was born, but she didn’t feel like they would deny her of that.

“Is there something you want?” he asked impatiently as he tried in vain to close the lid atop the trashcan.

“Did you check your email?” she asked him in return.

“No.”

“You should,” she suggested. “The test results came in.”

Finn’s eyes got wide, and he immediately whipped his phone out of his pocket, tapped around the screen a bit, and then just stared down at it as he took in that results document that had been sent their way. “I don’t . . . I don’t get this,” he finally said.

“It’s kind of confusing,” she agreed, moving closer to him. “But see, these are basically all the little DNA pieces that they tested.” She motioned to the two columns, one for the baby, one for the ‘alleged father,’ glad that she’d taken the time to really look at it so she could accurately explain it to him. “The baby gets half its chromosomes from the mother, half from the father. So it should always have at least one of these numbers in common with you. And it does.” She pointed out just a few of the similarities, feeling like it was easier for her to understand since she was a biology major. “So then down here it shows the probability of paternity. It’s almost a hundred percent.”

“Almost,” he said.

“It never shows a hundred.” Theirs was 99.9998 or something. A longer number than that. But it was about as high as it could be without actually being one-hundred.

“What does this mean?” he asked, zooming in on the screen. He read at the bottom of the document, “‘The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested child.’”

“It’s just the way they phrase it,” she said. “ _Not excluded_. If it wasn’t you, it’d say you _were_ excluded.”

“But I’m . . . not excluded,” he said. The reality of what this all meant seemed to be descending on him. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

She decided she wasn’t going to hold it against him for not being more enthused. Hell, she’d cried when she first found out. “So there it is,” she said. “I’m sure you can call the lab if you wanna know more, but . . . there’s the proof you wanted.” It’d sure as hell cost a lot of money to have this done, but at least now he couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t involved anymore.

He swallowed hard, closed out of the results, and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“We don’t have to hash everything out right now,” she said, figuring he might need a little time to deal with it, “but . . . maybe in a couple days, we can sit down and talk?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” he said, sounding a bit stunned. Had he really expected to not be the father when she’d been so insistent that he was? Or was that just what he’d been hoping for?

“Okay.” Trying to keep reminding herself that she hadn’t initially been thrilled about this whole thing, either, she turned and started back to her car. She stopped after only a few steps, though, spun back around, and told him, “Oh, by the way, yesterday I had to go to the hospital. I was bleeding a little bit, so they did another ultrasound.”

His eyebrows arched. “And?”

“And everything’s fine.”

Everything about him kind of just sagged downward again, and she wondered . . . did that disappoint him? Would he have rather she had a miscarriage? She felt horrible for even pondering the thought, but . . . it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

“It was probably just because of . . . hormonal changes,” she said, using only one of the possible explanations Dr. Tsing had provided her. “But we got to see the baby move and hear the heartbeat again.”

“We?” he echoed.

_Oh, shit_. She really didn’t want him to know that Bellamy had been with her, so she quickly covered it up with a half-truth. “Well, my mom was there.” It wasn’t technically a _lie_. She had been there yesterday. “You can come with me to the next appointment, if you want.” She wasn’t quite sure what that appointment was going to be, but it’d be here in town. Her mom wanted Dr. Tsing to keep doing her ultrasounds from here on out, and there was another doctor she wanted Clarke to start seeing, too.

“Yeah, maybe,” Finn said, sounding completely non-committal to that idea. “See ya, Clarke.” He turned and headed up the sidewalk onto his porch and into his house. He looked like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

_Maybe?_ she thought, feeling let-down. It wasn’t that she’d expected him to be jumping for joy and to immediately shift into some kind of hidden dad mode, but still . . . _maybe_ he’d go to the next appointment with her? She knew she had to be patient with him, because he wasn’t going to handle this the exact same way she was. Hopefully, with a little time to get accustomed to the idea, though, he’d start handling it better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Clarke got a text from Bellamy that asked, _Wanna come over for dinner tonight?_ she didn’t even hesitate to text back, _Yes_. She wasn’t too keen on the thought of spending the night alone. It’d been kind of a turbulent week between the spotting scare, dealing with Finn, and meeting her dad’s new girlfriend. She hoped that dinner with Bellamy (and his mom, she presumed) would be the starter to a better weekend.

When she got over there, she was surprised to find that Bellamy was the one cooking. He said he still wasn’t a great chef but had learned a few things traveling the world and wanted to let his mom have the night off. Octavia came by shortly after, warned Bellamy not to accidentally poison them, and then hung out with Clarke in the living room while they waited for the food to be done. She broke out an old photo album, and Clarke was able to look at a bunch of pictures of Bellamy as a baby. He’d been adorable even back then.

Since Aurora had given birth twice, Clarke figured she could talk to her about what had happened yesterday. One of her apps had said that, as she approached the end of the first trimester, it was a good time to start having conversations with other moms about what they’d gone through and what she could expect going forward. And it just seemed easier to talk to Bellamy’s mom than to talk to her own mom about that.

“So did you ever have any bleeding when you were pregnant, Aurora?” she asked as she flipped past a page in the photo album where baby Bellamy was sitting in his high chair, playing with his food.

“Oh, a couple times,” Aurora replied as she moved back and forth between the kitchen and the small enclave where they had their table. “Not when I was pregnant with Bellamy, but when I was pregnant with Octavia, I had some early on. Just spotting, but it was enough to make me think it was my period, you know? So I didn’t even realize I was pregnant with her until probably around the eighth week.”

Octavia shrugged. “What can I say? I’m sneaky like that.”

“They said it was implantation bleeding,” Aurora recalled as she set their plates on the table. “Did they have any ideas for what yours might be?”

Standing at the stove, Bellamy quickly answered, “Hormonal changes.”

“Right. Hormonal changes,” Clarke readily agreed. That was the excuse they were going with.

“It’s probably ‘cause of sex,” Octavia blurted.

Clarke didn’t say anything, and Bellamy poked his head out of the kitchen and gave her a look. Which pretty much said it all.

Octavia laughed. “I knew it.”

“Oh, I never felt like having sex when I was pregnant,” Aurora said as she set out their silverware. “I looked like a blimp, felt like a blimp. Didn’t feel desirable.”

Clarke still felt kind of sexy, even though she was definitely conscious of a little bump now. It was kind of at the point where she just looked and felt really bloated, so anyone could mistake it for fat.

“Supposedly it’s really beneficial,” Bellamy piped up from the kitchen.

“Of course he would say that,” Octavia mumbled.

“No, he’s right,” Clarke backed him up. “I looked a lot of stuff up online. It has a lot of benefits.” Some of the benefits were more physical, others more emotional, but all in all, it seemed like a good thing to be doing as long as she was still enjoying it.

“Well, then you two can go ahead and _benefit_ each other all you want,” Octavia said with a knowing smirk.

“Octavia!” her mother hissed.

“What? We all know it’s happening.”

Bellamy emerged from the kitchen then, potholders on both hands, dramatically held them out to the side, and announced, “Dinner is served.”

Clarke closed the photo album and got up from the couch, feeling hungry enough to eat a hippo. Her appetite came and went in spurts. Her digestive system was all out of whack, so constipation was one of the many not so fun pregnancy effects she was dealing with. But when she wanted food, she wanted _food_ , and luckily, what Bellamy had concocted smelled pretty good.

Pregnancy may have dampened her appetite for tacos, but pasta still hit the spot. She wasn’t sure how Bellamy had known that—maybe she’d told him—but he’d prepared spaghetti with marinara sauce _and_ penne noodles doused in alfredo. Plus, there were some garlic rolls that were calling her name.

“Mmm, this is really good, Bellamy,” Clarke said as they all ate up.

“I know. I’m practically Italian,” he boasted. “Might as well start callin’ me Bellissimo.”

She laughed.

“Where’d you get the recipe for this sauce?” his mom asked him.

“Uh, from one of my fellow gondoliers.”

“Really?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “He’s lying, Mom. It’s just straight outta the jar.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, really?” She plucked a roll out of the basket and hurled it at him, but he caught it like the football player he was and threw it right back.

Aurora sighed and gave Clarke a look. “Some things never change.”

_No_ , Clarke thought, amused by the siblings. _Some things don’t_. On their own, they were both pretty grown-up, but around each other, they were utter children again. She appreciated it, though. In fact, she appreciated all of this. Bellamy’s family was so easy-going. They made it so easy for her to feel welcomed.

****

_“Clarke! Bellamy!”_

_Clarke pushed open the door, pulling her shirt down. “Coming!” The word would have taken on a double meaning if her parents knew what she and Bellamy had just been doing._

_Bellamy zipped up his pants and told her, “That was good.”_

_“Yeah,” she agreed. They’d made it a quickie, and a very quiet quickie at that, but it was the first time they’d actually done anything in the house while her parents were home. Sure, they were downstairs getting dinner ready, but still . . . it was kind of a rush getting away with it._

_As they headed downstairs, she saw just how much food her mother had prepared. It looked like someone was catering a graduation party or something, not just hosting a dinner for four. “Wow, Mom,” she said in amazement, “how much did you cook?”_

_“A lot,” she acknowledged. “We may have leftovers, but that’s okay. We can send some home with Bellamy.”_

_Clarke halted momentarily. What was that supposed to mean? Or was it supposed to mean anything? She wondered if there was some sort of hidden insinuation there, like Bellamy and his mom didn’t have enough money to afford food or something._

_“Looks really good,” Bellamy remarked, walking right past her. He started to take a seat next to her dad, but her mom motioned to the chair next to her instead, so he scooted one over. Clarke sat down beside him, having to admire his courageousness for doing this family dinner with them all over again. The first one hadn’t exactly been horrible, but it wasn’t like it’d been a real great time, either. He was being a good boyfriend, though. Maybe if her parents—particularly her mom—got to know him better, these dinners would start to feel a little more relaxed._

_“Let’s, um, say a prayer first,” her mom suggested as Bellamy started in on his fruit salad. He set his fork down, and the four of them joined hands. He didn’t seem quite sure of what to do, Clarke mouthed to him, ‘Close your eyes,’ and he did._

_“Dear God, thank you for this food we are about to eat,” her mother started in, “and thank you for giving us this time to spend together as a family. With Bellamy.”_

_Clarke frowned. What was that? Was she purposefully trying to make him feel excluded?_

_“And please help look after the people in this house and guide them to make the right choices and live responsibly,” her mom finished up, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel like that was directed at her. “In your name we pray. Amen.”_

_“Amen,” she and her dad echoed, but Bellamy was a second late with it. They all released hands, but he looked a little hesitant to pick up his fork again. He only did that when Clarke picked up his and took her first bite of the fruity concoction on her salad plate. She doubted Bellamy would like it very much, because he wasn’t a huge fruit-eater. But it was sort of his strawberry gelatin thing with a crunchy bottom, almost more of a desert than a salad. She and her dad both loved it._

_“So Bellamy,” her mom said as she started passing the veggie tray around, “are you and your family religious?”_

_“Not really,” he said, taking only one piece of celery off of it before he passed it on to Clarke. “I mean, I believe in God, but to be honest, the only thing I pray for is winning the next football game.”_

_Clarke cringed inwardly. That probably wasn’t the right thing to say. “We’re not super religious, either,” she pointed out._

_“Sure we are,” her mother insisted. “We go to church.”_

_“Sometimes.” Often, her mother was working, though, or her dad was out of town._

_Thankfully, the topic didn’t stay on religion for long. Her dad cleared his throat and said, “Bellamy, I forget, when are you going on your UCF visit? Next month?”_

_“Yeah,” Bellamy said with a nod. “After state.”_

_“Hmm.” Her mother scooped some casserole onto her plate and gave Bellamy a questioning look. “You feel pretty confident the team’s making it to state then?”_

_“Oh, yeah. We fell one game short last year. I’m not gonna let that happen again.”_

_Clarke smiled at him, sharing his confidence. “We’re the number one seed in the playoffs,” she informed her parents. “So that’s pretty exciting.”_

_Her mother gave her a confused look. “Since when do you like football so much, Clarke?”_

_“Well, I’ve never_ dis _liked it,” she answered._

_“But you weren’t this into it last year.”_

Because last year I wasn’t dating the quarterback, _she thought. Wasn’t it obvious? “Well, now I understand it better,” she said. “Bellamy drew out some plays for me. It’s kind of interesting.”_

_An awkward silence settled onto the four of them, but as plates began to fill up with food, that was at least a good distraction. “Food’s good,” Bellamy remarked, doing his best to diffuse the tension._

_Abby smiled tightly at him and said, “Thank you.”_

_Clarke shot her mom a quick glare. Did she have to be so . . . standoffish? She was a doctor. Her job was to interact with patients on a daily basis and put them at ease. Why couldn’t she do the same with Bellamy?_

_Later that night, long after dinner was done and Bellamy had gone home, Clarke got up, headed downstairs, and filled up a glass of ice water. Sometimes she had naughty dreams that left her feeling hot during the night, so she needed some water at her bedside to cool down._

_On her way back up the stairs, she heard conversation coming from her parents’ bedroom, starting with her dad saying, “Abby, we just have to wait this out.”_

_“And how long’s that gonna take?” her mother shot back. “The entire year?”_

_Clarke crept towards the door, listening closer._

_“Maybe,” her dad responded. “But you’ve heard the boy. He’s gonna go to school somewhere else; he’s not gonna stay here.”_

Bellamy? _They were talking about Bellamy?_

_“You’re right,” her mom said. “He’ll go be a football star in college, probably forget all about Clarke when he’s got dozens of other girls fawning over him.”_

_Clarke frowned as she leaned towards the door, careful not to press against it or make any noise that would alert her parents to her eavesdropping. She wanted to hear this conversation, even if she wasn’t meant to._

_“And if they try to stay together, it won’t last,” her father predicted. “They’ll break up once he realizes he wants to play the field. That’s how it always happens.”_

_“And then Clarke can move on to somebody better,” her mom said. “Somebody who isn’t banking his whole future on being able to score touchdowns. Somebody who comes from a better background and a better family.”_

A better family? _She felt offended on Bellamy’s behalf. There was nothing wrong with his family. His mom was really nice._

_“Exactly,” her dad said. “This whole thing that she’s doing with him . . . it’s just a phase.”_

A phase? _Clarke wanted to slam open the door and scream at them that this wasn’t just a phase, that she did have genuine feelings for Bellamy and he had genuine feelings for her. Maybe it wasn’t going to last beyond high school, but that didn’t make it meaningless now. And what the hell was up with her dad saying all of this? She’d assumed her mom would be determined to be judgmental, just because she hated the thought of Clarke being sexually active. But her dad . . . she thought her dad had been developing a better opinion of Bellamy than this. But apparently it was all just an act._

_She was so mad at them that she had no desire to stay there the rest of the night. Instead of lying back down, she got dressed, grabbed her keys, and slinked downstairs and out the front door. She got in her car and drove right off, hoping neither of them heard her but not really caring if they had. If they tried to ground her, she’d just pretend to go along with it, but in reality, she’d probably try to sneak out again._

_At a little past midnight, she found herself over at Bellamy’s, and although his mom was a lot more laid-back when it came to him having someone of the opposite gender in his room, Clarke still didn’t feel like knocking on the door. So she went around to his bedroom window and tapped on it a couple times before he pulled back the curtains and looked out. He was shirtless, only wearing boxers, and he immediately smiled when he saw her._

_“Hey,” he said after he pushed open the window. “What’re you doin’ here?”_

Escaping, _she thought, feeling like she’d sleep much better with him next to her than she would with her parents in close proximity. “Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t mind._

_He didn’t ask why she was over there, didn’t even hesitate to step aside and let her in. That night, she curled up in bed with him, his arm around her, his heart beating steadily beneath her cheek. And she ended up sleeping really soundly._

****

Octavia pulled Clarke into her bedroom after dinner, despite both her mother and her brother suggesting that she help do the dishes. “Okay, now that we can have some girl time,” she said, “I wanna talk to you about something.”

“What?” Clarke asked.

“Sex.”

“Oh, Octavia . . .” She knew this girl liked to tease her and Bellamy, but really, she didn’t want to go into detail. “It’s only happened three times with your brother since he’s been back, and I really don’t think this is something we should be talking about.”

Octavia made a face. “No, not you guys having sex. Me. Me having sex. With Lincoln.”

“Oh.” That made a lot more sense. “ _Oh_.” This wasn’t like a birds-and-the-bees talk, was it? Sure Aurora had given her one of those a long time ago. “That’s happening?”

“Not yet, but it’s going to.” Octavia’s whole face glowed with excitement. “I decided I’m ready.”

“Oh. Okay.” Clarke _really_ wasn’t sure what to say, so she tried to approach the situation like an older sister would. “Well, are you on birth control?”

“Yeah. I’m on the pill.”

“That’s good.” That definitely wasn’t the most effective type, though. “You have to remember to take it every single day, though. And with the shot, if you ever switch to that, you can’t ever be late with it. I mean . . .” She touched her slightly rounded stomach and muttered, “Unless you wanna end up like me.”

“Yeah, he’ll wear a condom, too, so it’ll be totally safe,” Octavia added.

“Good.” She’d thought this through then, at least. “Does Bellamy know you’re planning to do this?”

“ _No_ ,” Octavia answered emphatically. “And you have to promise not to tell him. I’m only telling you because I need advice. And I can’t talk to my roommate about it, because she doesn’t believe in sex until marriage, and I can’t talk to my mom because, well, she’s my mom. I mean, I had a boyfriend in high school, and we did . . . _stuff_. But never full-on sex. So . . . got any tips?”

“Uh . . .” Once again, Clarke scrambled for a response. In a weird way, she almost would have _rather_ talked about her and Bellamy’s hook-ups. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to go to the bathroom and take a shower beforehand, just so you don’t feel self-conscious about anything,” she told the young girl. “And the first time’s kinda painful, so tell him to go slow. You might wanna put a towel down underneath you just in case you, you know . . . bleed.”

Octavia made a face. “Does that happen to a lot of girls?”

“Oh, yeah.” She’d definitely bled a little the first time, but Bellamy had been so nice and understanding about it. “Other than that . . . just enjoy it. You’ll only ever lose your virginity once, so if you’re sure you’re ready and you’re sure Lincoln’s the one you wanna give it to, then be in the moment.” She smirked, then added, “And remember that it feels better the second time.”

“Hmm.” Octavia laughed lightly. “Alright, well, thanks, Clarke. I love that we can talk about this stuff now that I’m not in middle school anymore.”

Oh god, hearing that made her remember seventh grade Octavia, a little girl who had been more interested in learning how to skateboard than she’d been in paying attention to boys. She felt sort of bad about having this conversation with her behind Bellamy’s back, because maybe he would have wanted her to try to discourage her from losing her virginity to Lincoln. But at least Octavia was _dating_ Lincoln. She’d be such a hypocrite if she told her to wait longer when she hadn’t even waited to make things official with Bellamy before hopping into bed with him.

For about an hour after dinner, she hung around until she started to feel tired and announced that she had to head home. Bellamy walked her out to her car, and as they stood there together, he asked, “So what did you and my sister talk about?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Well, he’d asked for it. “She’s gonna have sex with Lincoln,” she revealed.

“Oh, no.” He covered his face and shook his head dramatically. “No, I didn’t wanna know that.”

“Don’t tell her I told you. She asked me not to say anything.”

Exhaling heavily, he brought his hands down and resigned himself to it. “I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop her,” he said. “She’s not a kid anymore.”

“Nope. And hey, at least she waited until she was eighteen,” Clarke pointed out. “That’s longer than either of us waited.”

“Yeah, four years longer than me. God, my poor mom.”

“Yeah, really,” she agreed.

“But see, with me . . . I’m a guy.”

Clarke scrunched up her nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, my mom always used to say boys were easier to raise, because then you only have to worry about one penis. With girls, you gotta worry about every penis in the world.”

“Huh.” She thought about that, feeling like it actually kind of made sense. “True.”

“See? You remember that if you have a girl.”

“Okay.” Whether she had a son or daughter, she felt like Bellamy’s mom could offer her some good advice. She’d raised a damn good son all on her own, and her daughter . . . well, her daughter was loud and pretty wild these days, but she wasn’t a bad kid, either.

“I had a good time tonight,” Clarke told him, really glad he’d invited her over. “I needed this.” Spending time with him and his family helped take her mind off of everything with Finn. They were a good distraction.

“You know you’re welcome anytime,” he said. He reached out, took both her hands in his, rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles lightly, then moved in closer so he could kiss her.

_This isn’t friendly_ , she thought, even though she allowed herself to kiss him back. _This isn’t friendly at all_. It was at least a pretty chaste kiss, though, which was probably a good thing, since out of the corner of her eye she could tell that there were eyes on them. “Octavia’s watching,” she informed him.

“What?” His head snapped towards the window right as his little sister tried to pull the curtains shut. “O!”

She chuckled, feeling a sense of _déjà vu_. Octavia used to look out the window like that when she’d been younger, too. Nosy.

Although it was tempting to just crawl into bed with him and spend the night there, Clarke knew she should be getting home. So she said, “Goodnight, Bellamy,” hoping she might have a dream or two about him.

“Goodnight, Clarke.” He lifted one of her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, then slowly let go as he backed up towards the house. It was really hard to get in the car after that, because . . . god-dammit, even after all these years, Bellamy Blake still managed to give her butterflies.


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18_

Being on her feet at work was starting to take its toll on Clarke. Her feet weren’t exactly swollen yet, but they were starting to hurt more and more each day. She wasn’t sure how she was going to handle it when they actually did start to swell, or when her back really started to hurt. It was going to get pretty painful, and she’d just have to power through it.

While she worked, her boss gave her a lot of a curious looks, and Clarke wondered if it was because she’d shown up not looking like herself, wearing sweatpants instead of jeans. Her jeans were just feeling a bit too snug these days. She needed something she could breathe in.

When they had a lull in customers, Diyoza sidled up to her behind the bar and said, “Alright, I’m just gonna ask it: How far along are you?”

Clarke stopped wiping down the counter and looked down at her stomach self-consciously. “Eleven weeks.” She really couldn’t hide it anymore, could she? There was a bump, one that was a little too rounded to be mistaken for the common weight gain. When she sat down, it pooched out, and it was pretty obvious what was up.

“When were you gonna tell me?” Diyoza asked.

Clarke shrugged. “I just figured I’d start to get round and people would know.”

“Hmm. I’ve been wondering for a few weeks now. You’re not big, but I can definitely tell.”

“Yeah. My clothes are all too tight,” she lamented. Even the shirt she was wearing right now felt a little more snug than it usually did.

“Well, my sister was pregnant last year. Let me see if I can get you some maternity clothes,” Diyoza offered.

“That’d be great. Thanks.” Since she was trying to be self-sufficient when it came to money matters, she’d figured she would end up having to go to the thrift store to see if they had anything that would fit her in the coming months. But hopefully Diyoza’s sister had some stuff that was actually still cute and fashionable. The thrift store wasn’t known for style.

The conversation turned serious when her boss inquired, “Bellamy’s not the father, is he?”

She shook her head sadly. “No.”

“You know who is?”

The door opened, and almost as if on cue, Finn strolled inside. “He is,” she said, surprised to see him there. For the past couple days, he hadn’t called her or texted her or reached out in any way. It’d sort of seemed like he was avoiding her. “Hey,” she said as he approached the bar.

“Hey,” he returned. “Can we talk?”

“Right now?” She’d sort of assumed they would talk in private, maybe at her place since she really didn’t need to be breathing in secondhand smoke and pot smells while pregnant. Or ever.

“Yeah.”

She cast a questioning glance at her boss, and Diyoza nodded. “Go ahead.”

Grateful to be working for someone who was understanding and didn’t mind giving her an extra break this afternoon, Clarke slipped off into the back room with Finn, figuring it offered at least _some_ privacy. Sure, she could still hear noise and activity from out in the bar, but for the most part, it was quiet, and they were alone. “Are you sure you wanna talk here?” she asked him. “We could meet up tonight, maybe at my place.”

“Here’s fine,” he said.

“But I’m working,” she pointed out. It wasn’t exactly the most ideal time for what was bound to be a serious conversation. They had a lot to talk about.

“I know,” he said. “I just . . . I’ve given it a lot of thought these past few days, and there’s some stuff I gotta get off my chest.”

Off his chest? She wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she was willing to hear him out. “Okay.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looked down at his feet, and mumbled, “I still think you should put the baby up for adoption, Clarke. You and I . . . we’re not ready to have a kid.”

_That_ was his lead-in? That was what he was starting with? Not exactly what she wanted to hear since she thought she’d made it pretty clear that adoption wasn’t going to happen. “I—I think we can _get_ ready, though,” she stammered. “I mean, I’m not even through the first trimester yet. We’ve got a little time.”

“Maybe _you_ can get ready,” he said, still not looking her in the eye. “I can’t.”

He sounded so sure, but . . . how could he be sure of anything? He hadn’t even tried yet. “What’re you saying?” she asked, a bit fearful of where this was going. Her bottom lip quivered.

Flapping his arms against his side almost helplessly, he muttered, “I don’t know what else to say other than . . . I don’t wanna have a baby.”

She winced, wondering if he’d rehearsed this. If so, he should have practiced some different lines. “Well, we’re having one,” she said. There was no backtracking they could do, no do-over they would receive. Choices had consequences, and when you made a choice to do something, you had to live with the consequences. She knew that, so why didn’t he?

“Listen, I just . . .” He paused for a moment and sighed heavily. “I just don’t really wanna be a dad yet. You know?”

No, she didn’t know. Because even though she was still terrified of being a mom, she’d experienced the fear of losing this baby already, and having gone through that . . . she felt attached to it now, in a way she hadn’t before. “Well, I’m having this baby,” she stated assertively. “I’m raising this baby.” Visions of raising it alone filled her head, and her voice was merely a plea when she whimpered, “Aren’t you gonna help me?”

Finn gulped, finally lifting his head to look at her. He had tears in his eyes and a guilty expression on his face. “I can . . . I can pay child support if that helps,” he offered weakly. “But I don’t . . . I don’t wanna be there for all the day-to-day stuff. That’s not what I want in life right now.”

_Oh my god_ , she thought, feeling like the floor was falling out from underneath her. This just wasn’t the way she’d expected this conversation to go. “So you write a check every month, and everything else just falls to me?” she managed to squeak out, her jaw shaking as she tried to hold herself together. “It must be nice to have such an easy way out.”

“I’m not trying to just dump all the responsibility on you,” he insisted.

“But isn’t that what you’re doing?” All that day-to-day ‘stuff’ he didn’t want to be a part of . . . that would automatically fall to her. Waking up in the middle of the night to comfort their crying child, changing its diapers, making sure it had food to eat and clothes to wear, taking it in for all its appointments and getting it into school someday . . . that was all going to be _her_ job if Finn didn’t help out.

“Well, you made the decision to have the baby,” he said. “My input doesn’t matter there. So if I can’t control what happens while you’re pregnant, then at least I can control what happens with my life.”

“And what about _my_ life, huh?” she challenged, staring at him in disbelief. Didn’t it matter at all to him that this was going to affect her, too?

“You’re making a choice, just like I am,” he said. “Look, I know this sounds harsh, but I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

She felt her breathing start to quicken as the panic set in. This wasn’t a bad dream; it was real. Finn was _really_ dumping all of this on her. Child support wasn’t actually a very supportive thing. He’d pay a couple hundred bucks a month, and that was it. He’d be off scot-free.

“No, that’s good,” she said, trying not to just break down and cry in front of him. She didn’t want him to see her get so upset because of him. “I appreciate the honesty. Now at least I know where you stand.” Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to rely on him was better than holding onto the hope that she would. Now she could prepare for . . . everything.

“It’s not like you’ll be all on your own, though,” he said. “You’ve got your parents to help you out.”

She almost laughed at that. Her parents. Yeah, her mom worked over forty hours a week, and her dad lived two hours away. Kane would probably help her whenever he could, and her mom wasn’t going to leave her to fend for herself financially, but if he thought for one second that this was going to be easy on her just because she had a family and he didn’t, then he was sorely mistaken.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” he apologized, lowering his head again, as if he were ashamed. Which he had every reason to be. He sulked out of the room, back out to the bar, and Clarke just stood there, shaking, trying to stay as calm as she could. She didn’t need to get all worked up and stressed right now. That wouldn’t be good for her or the baby. Maybe after she left work, then she could let it all out, but for now, she had to get back out there and do her job.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Oh, Clarke. Don’t worry,” Raven soothed, rubbing Clarke’s back. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Clarke cried, all hunched over, her head in her hands. She’d managed to hold it together after Finn had left, but Diyoza must have sensed that something bad had gone down, because she told her to head home early. Instead of heading home, she’d driven to her best friend’s apartment, in desperate need of some consolation. “I’m a single parent,” she bemoaned, sitting up long enough to grab a Kleenex from the coffee table and wipe the smearing makeup away from her eyes.

“Well, that’s okay,” Raven said softly. “My dad was a single parent, and he did alright.”

She blew her nose, shaking her head. “Your dad had a job. And a college degree. And he didn’t live in his parents’ beach house.”

“Well, his parents didn’t even _own_ a beach house,” Raven pointed out.

“My dad still doesn’t even know,” she wept. “He’s probably gonna get his girlfriend pregnant, and then this baby’s gonna be older than its aunt or uncle.” She dissolved again, bending back over to hide her face. She was an ugly crier, and her crazy hormones were going to ensure that this didn’t let up for a while.

“Okay, now you’re just speculating,” Raven said.

The door to the small apartment opened, and Murphy came in, narrating something. Clarke didn’t even have to look up to know that he was likely filming a vlog. “So finally, I just turned around and said to him, ‘If had a face like yours, I’d fucking sue my parents,’” he said. “Uh-oh, what do we got goin’ on here?”

“Turn the camera off,” Raven hissed.

Hopefully he hadn’t been livestreaming. Clarke hated the thought of this being broadcast to his two-hundred thousand subscribers. Or whatever he was up to now.

Although he wasn’t always the most sensitive when it came to human emotions, Murphy did have the courtesy to ask, “You okay, Clarke?”

The only response she could muster was a loud sob.

“Just go,” Raven told him.

“Banished to the bathroom again,” he mumbled, walking that way.

Clarke waited until he disappeared in there and shut the door to sit up straighter. “If he wants more viewers, you should tell him to film my dramatic life,” she said.

“It’ll calm down,” Raven said, putting her arm around her, pulling her in for a hug. “I promise.”

Clarke really wanted to believe her, and Raven _was_ super smart. She knew a lot of things. But she didn’t know anything about this. She’d never been pregnant before, and when she did get pregnant someday, she and Murphy would probably be married and actively trying, and everything would just go according to plan. Clarke had tried to plan her life out, too, but there were just so many things that hadn’t gone the way she’d anticipated.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a rare thing when Maryland got to play in a primetime Saturday night game, so when it happened, Bellamy wasn’t going to miss it. Sure, the Terrapins sucked at football, and they sucked even more for not even bothering to recruit him. But they were playing Ohio State, and even though there was virtually no chance they would win, the small .01 percent chance of an upset kept Bellamy glued to the screen. Maryland was trailing but still within striking distance when they tried a pass play on third and three instead of handing it off for a run.

“What the fuck kind of play was that?” Bellamy roared, shooting to his feet. “Are you kidding me?” He threw his hands up in the air, fed up with the coach for making such shitty calls.

“Waste of a down,” his mom agreed.

Yeah, and now they had to punt. The Buckeyes were going to get decent field position, too, because their punter couldn’t kick for shit. “See, this is why Ohio State wins all the time. ‘cause the Big Ten sucks,” he ranted, picking up his phone when it rang. It was . . . Raven? Huh. “Hey, you watchin’ this game?” he answered.

“No, but I’m sure it’s a travesty,” she said. “Did you talk to Clarke today?”

“No.” He immediately looked away from the screen. “Why?”

“She and Finn . . .” Raven trailed off, then sighed. “Finn came to see her.”

“And?”

A slight pause, and then Raven told him, “It didn’t go so well. You should probably go check up on her. I think she needs you right now.”

His heart just sank for her, because he could only imagine what that meant. If Raven was calling him about it, though, then it must have been pretty bad. “Yeah, I will,” he said. “Thanks.” He ended the call and took one more look back at the game, not even able to muster up any excitement when Maryland pulled off a fake punt and snuck in for another first down.

His mom, too, was distracted now. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s Clarke,” he said. “I gotta go.”

She just nodded, didn’t ask any questions, so he ducked into his bedroom to grab his keys, then headed straight out. That stupid game didn’t really matter anymore.

He thought about stopping at the gas station and picking up a bag of Doritos for Clarke, just because he’d noticed her eating a lot of them lately. But that was going to take more time than it was worth, and he just wanted to get to her, so he drove directly there. He was at her house in about ten minutes, and he tried to brace himself for what kind of condition he might find her in. Pregnant women were known for huge mood swings under normal circumstances, and whatever was going on with her and Finn didn’t even sound normal.

When she opened the front door, she looked . . . pretty down in the dumps. Her hair was frizzing out to the sides, she had no makeup on, and there were brown crumbs smeared around her mouth, like she’d been snacking on something. She had on a long-sleeved plaid shirt that went down to mid-thigh and covered up her growing baby bump.

“Sorry,” he said, “I know it’s late.”

“No, you’re fine.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside. “I was just watching this game, eating my feelings.”

“Me, too,” he said, wiping his shoes off on the welcome mat.

“You were eating your feelings?”

“No, but I was watching the game.” He glanced up at her flat-screen TV to check the score and groaned in disappointment. “Oh god, it’s even worse.” Apparently the fake punt hadn’t gotten them anywhere, because Ohio State was ahead by three touchdowns now.

“Yeah, they just scored off an interception,” she said, picking up the remote. “It’s all over.” She turned off the TV and bent down to clean up her coffee table, which had some of the same crumbs on it that her face did.

“Oreos, huh?” he noted.

“One of my cravings.” She brought the box of cookies into the kitchen, set them on the counter, and wiped off her mouth with her sleeve. “So what’re you doing here?” she asked him.

It definitely wasn’t just a random drop-in, and he couldn’t very well pretend that it was. “Raven called me,” he revealed. “She said I should come by.”

Clarke nodded slowly, a downtrodden look on her face. “Did she tell you what happened?”

“Kind of.” Even without all the details, he felt like he could speculate on what had happened. “She said you talked to Finn today.”

“Yep,” she practically whispered. That sadness surrounding her just got sadder.

“What’d he say?” Although he didn’t wanna make her relive the whole thing again, the only way he could try to make her feel better was if he knew what had gone down.

“Exactly what I was hoping he wouldn’t say,” she answered. “He doesn’t want the baby, doesn’t wanna be a part of its life. But—get this—he offered to pay child support.” She laughed angrily, shaking her head, and blinked back tears. “Oh, I guess that’s better than nothing, though, right?”

God, that made Bellamy’s blood boil. Child support was a joke these days. The courts didn’t enforce it the way they were supposed to, and lots of guys got away with not paying everything they owed. “How could he do this?” he wondered aloud, more to himself than to her. “How the hell can he just leave you to fend for yourself?”

“Well, I’ve got my parents. That’s another thing he pointed out,” she said. “So apparently between them and his monthly check, it should just all be so easy.” She huffed, blinking rapidly as a few tears spilled over. “God, I don’t know why I ever assumed he’d come around. He’s not the world’s most mature guy, he was never the greatest boyfriend. And you saw where he lives and who he lives with now. His life’s a joke. So . . . so I guess he was right about one thing then: He’s really _not_ ready to be a dad.”

Fuck, that wasn’t fair, though. She was the one who was physically pregnant, so she got stuck with the full burden of this. Just like his mom had. “Then you don’t need him,” he said, closing the distance between them. Hell, he didn’t even know his dad, but he doubted there was anything some deadbeat like him could have ever given him that his mom hadn’t been able to. He didn’t need two parents, not when he had one really good one. Clarke’s kid would be the same.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell myself, but . . .” Her eyes were glossy and full of emotion when she looked up into his eyes. “Bellamy, I’m _so_ scared,” she confessed. “What if I can’t do this?”

“You can,” he assured her, and he wasn’t just saying the words to say them. He really believed in everything he was saying. “You’re strong, you’re tough. You’re a badass. You’re . . .” There weren’t enough words in the world to describe how fucking awesome Clarke Griffin was. “You’re a brave princess,” he said, smiling at her.

She managed a brief smile back, but it quickly morphed into crying. He watched her whole body just crumple and fall forward a bit, so he took her into his arms and held her tightly, trying to be the strength she needed right now, the literal shoulder for her to cry on. She clutched at his shirt and pressed her face into his chest, and her body shook as the tears poured out of her. It was one thing to see her look so sad or sound so sad, but to _feel_ that sadness, to feel it right there in his arms . . . it just broke his heart for her. Especially since he remembered a high school girl who’d been so happy.

****

_Bellamy was beginning to like the library a lot better. All those shelves of books provided a great place for him and Clarke to make out, with little fear of getting caught as long as they were quiet. He loved pressing her back against the shelves, getting to cup her ass with one hand while she hiked her leg up around his waist. And the way she rolled her head to the side to give him better access to suck on her neck . . . it was so fucking sexy._

_“We’re gonna get in trouble,” she moaned breathily._

_“For making out?” He kissed his way back up to her cheek._

_“In the school library? Yeah.”_

_“Sorry,” he said, grinning flirtatiously. “I just can’t resist you.” He gave her mouth one more kiss, then lowered his head and latched onto the other side of her neck, sucking vigorously at her pulse point, hoping he’d leave a hickey there._

_“Uh,” she moaned, tangling her hands in his hair, “I wish we could have sex right now.”_

_That was actually a great idea. His head shot up, and he felt inspired. There were a lot of places in this old building that didn’t have cameras. The bathroom, the janitor’s closet, outside by the busses. “We can,” he said._

_“No, we can’t.”_

_“Why not?”_

_The first bell of the day rang, interrupting them and signaling that it was time to head to class. “That’s why not,” she said._

_“We could skip,” he suggested, “go to my house for a while, do it during first period.” His first class was . . . well, English, which he wasn’t doing so well in, but they probably weren’t doing anything all that important._

_“I have a test,” she said, pouting. “And you can’t miss, because you have to pass your classes so you can play football.”_

_“I hate my classes,” he groaned, lowering his head to her shoulder, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo. Damn, she always smelled so good. “ I like you better.”_

_“Well . . .” Her fingers played with the curls at the back of his neck, and the leg she had around his waist, tightened, pulling his lower body in even closer to hers. “It’d probably be okay if we’re just a couple minutes late.”_

_“Mmm.” He liked the sound of that as he returned to sucking on her neck._

_“Just a couple, Bellamy,” she warned. “Just a couple.”_

_Oh, it’d be more than a couple. For sure._

****

The longer Bellamy held Clarke, the less her body trembled. Her crying started to subside, but she stayed right there next to him, her forehead pressed against his chest, her hands gradually sliding downward, closer to his waist. He tried to remind himself that she was going through a lot right now, that maybe she wasn’t even thinking clearly, and he kept his hands right where they were, on her shoulders and the small of her back. But still, he didn’t object when her delicate fingers popped open the button of his jeans and slid his zipper down a bit.

Did she really wanna do this right now? Or was she just trying to get her mind off of Finn and onto something else? He didn’t get a chance to ask her, because all of a sudden she was up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his, kissing him insistently. Her hands slid right up under his shirt, smoothing over his abdomen and his chest, and before he even knew what was happening, she was grabbing the bottom of it in both hands, tugging it upward. Their mouths broke apart long enough for her to get his shirt off of him, and although it was tempting to just keep kissing as she pressed her whole body against his and sought out his lips, he had to stop her.

“Clarke . . .” He grabbed onto her upper arms, holding her back a bit. “What’re we doin’?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered breathlessly, looking down at his pants, where he could already feel a bulge. Her eyes fixated there for a moment, but then she looked down at her own shirt as she undid the buttons and let it hang open, revealing nothing but a bra, panties, and a slightly rounded stomach underneath. Then looked up at him again and whimpered tearfully, “I don’t know.” There was this look of utter desperation all over her face. Just _all_ over it, in her beautiful blue eyes and on her quivering lips.

Although he wasn’t sure whether he should or not, he gave in to the temptation as their mouths met in a searing kiss. He really never could resist her.

He pushed her shirt off her shoulders, and she shrugged it down to the floor. They were a mess of limbs as they grabbed at each other, both of them unusually uncoordinated and awkward as they stumbled against the counter. Winding his hands around her backside, he considered hoisting her up there for a moment, but she seemed to have other ideas as she spun around and ground her ass back into him, rubbing it against the bulge in his jeans.

“Oh . . .” he groaned, vividly remembering how it felt to fuck her from behind. Because that was what it was when they did it like that, straight up _fucking_. As much as he loved climbing on top of her and just drilling her hips down into the mattress or watching her tits bounce when she rode the hell out of him, he loved doing her in doggy-style. He loved it so much.

Clarke was eager as fuck, almost frantic, as she slid her panties down. They dropped to her ankles, and she stepped out of them, bending right over that counter with her perfectly-curved ass sticking out for him. He quickly got his pants and underwear down to his feet, not patient enough to step out of them. With no need for a condom, he moved in behind her, holding his cock in one hand so he could tease her entrance with it. She was wet, but he wanted to make her even more so. Eventually, it was too much for him, though, and he had to plunge right in.

“Oh . . .” A loud moan rose through her when they first joined. She lifted her head up off the counter, repositioning herself so just her elbows were resting on it, and swiveled her hips around a bit, turning him on more than she knew. He had to pause for a moment and just breathe, afraid that he’d cum just from being inside her. It just felt so good. It always did.

Grabbing her hips, careful not to dig his fingers in too hard, he began thrusting forward, giving her just a taste of how he wanted to fuck her. He didn’t want to go too hard, didn’t want to press her up against the counter too forcefully. But when she whispered, “Oh, Bellamy . . .” he had to pick up the pace just a little bit.

Good God, the view of this was incredible. He loved watching his cock slide in and out of her, filling her up. Her pussy felt so damn tight around him, and it was like it just kept pulling him farther and farther inside.

He slid his hands further around her stomach, cradling her bump, loving the feel of it. Making sure to keep one hand there, splayed across her bellybutton, he smoothed the other up her back. When her hair was longer, he was better able to grab hold of it, but since it was short now, he squeezed her shoulder to get her attention.

Curiously, she peeked over her shoulder. Words weren’t necessary for him to communicate that he wanted her to stand up a bit. He just pulled gently on her shoulder, and she got the message. She pressed her hands down on the counter and straightened out, leaning back against him. Her breathing was coming in heavy pants, so he slowed his pace just a bit, but he elongated his thrusts, really _rolling_ his hips into her. The change in position made it a bit harder to get that in-and-out motion, so she spread her legs a bit more, and that made it easier.

_Oh, fuck_ , he thought, wrapping one arm around her breasts, which were nearly spilling out of her bra. They definitely felt bigger already, but he didn’t squeeze or grab at them too much in case they were sore. He just held his arm around them, held his hand on her stomach, and let himself get lost in her warmth. His head was spinning by the time he brought his lips down to her shoulder, pressing first a sloppy kiss against it, then a gentle bite. She made all sorts of sounds that were sexy as hell— _lots_ of moaning, but not the fake kind—and arched her back and her throat. Her legs were shaking a bit, but it didn’t matter. As long as he was behind her, he’d hold her up.

He kept fucking her, pretty sure this wasn’t what Raven had meant when she’d told him to come check up on her. But he was too caught up to question it. Way too caught up.


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19_

When Bellamy got home the next morning, his mom had already left for work, but his sister’s car was there. He heard the laundry machine rumbling once again right when he walked in.

“Out all night, huh?” she noted, coming out of her bedroom.

“No,” he denied, stepping out of his shoes, “I just woke up and decided to . . . yeah, I was out all night.” There really wasn’t any point in trying to pretend otherwise.

“Hmm, let me guess: You were with Clarke?” She gave him a knowing look, then laughed and shook her head. “You’re so obvious, it’s painful.”

“She’s goin’ through something, okay? I’m just trying to be there for her,” he said, not about to divulge just _how_ he’d gone about being there for her last night. And how many times he’d . . . been there for her.

“Well, you seem to be doing an excellent job,” she teased. “One might even say you’re like her boyfriend again. Would one be right?”

“One . . . might be,” he said unsurely. “I don’t know.” In high school, things had just been simple. They’d ended up dating, referring to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend even though that hadn’t been the plan going in. But this was a lot more complicated. It probably wouldn’t have been without the baby, but . . . that wasn’t the baby’s fault. “I’m really tired,” he said, rubbing his face. “I’m goin’ back to bed.”

“Don’t you have to go to work?” she reminded him after he’d taken only a few steps towards his room.

“Oh, crap.” It was Monday, wasn’t it? He had to be at work in an hour.

“Hey, while you’re there, hand these out, will you?” she said, grabbing a small stack of brightly-colored flyers off the kitchen counter. She shoved them at him and said, “My roommate wanted me to do it, but I don’t even care.” She seemed more than content to hand that job off to him as she disappeared back into her bedroom and shut the door.

Bellamy took a look at the top flyer, a neon orange thing that was advertising some Trunk-or-Treat event. At first he thought it was a typo until he looked it over a little more. No, it was indeed _Trunk_ -or-Treat.

_Huh_. He had an idea.

Work just about killed Bellamy’s back that day, but Roan wasn’t there—apparently he’d had to take one of his daughters to the doctor because she had a bad cold. So Bellamy felt like he had to step it up in his coworker’s absence. He wasn’t sure if Emerson noticed or not, but he worked through lunch and killed himself all afternoon lifting and transporting 4x4s. They weren’t heavy at first, and they were light enough to carry without a partner. But after doing it for hours, his arms were shot.

Even though he was tired and left without even so much as a ‘good job today’ from his boss, Bellamy didn’t head straight home. He stopped at Eligius since he knew Clarke had to work tonight. There weren’t many people in there, so she was kind of just standing at the counter. It looked like she was doodling something on a napkin.

“Slow night, huh?” he said as he took a seat at the bar.

She perked up a little bit when she saw him. “Yeah. It’s dragging.” Tossing away the napkin, which she’d drawn a very pretty flower on, she put her pen back in her apron and asked, “You want something to drink?”

“Sure.” He wasn’t about to turn down a beer after the tiring day he’d had, but that wasn’t the reason he’d stopped in. “Really, I just came to see you, though.”

“Well, here I am.” She grabbed a bottle out of the fridge, popped off the cap, and set it down in front of him.

_Here you are_ , he thought, his eyes roaming all over her as he took a swig. She looked . . . sort of down again, like she had last night before they’d started . . . what they’d started. The poor girl had probably spent all day trying to focus on classes when she had a hell of a lot bigger things on her mind.

“What’s up?” she asked, giving him a questioning look. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just . . .” It was hard not to think about what they’d done together not even twenty-four hours ago. Although it’d begun in the kitchen, it hadn’t stayed there. The couch had gotten some action, and even the staircase, too. “About last night . . .” he said quietly, even though no one was siting close enough to hear. “I feel kinda weird about it.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you were upset about Finn. You were crying. Maybe I shouldn’t have . . . you know.”

She, too, lowered her voice, as she filled in, “Fucked me?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm,” she said, thinking for a moment. “No, it felt pretty good to get fucked.”

“But you were upset,” he repeated. It wasn’t like he’d gone over there looking for sex or anything.

“So?” she said. “That doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking clearly. I knew what we were doing. I was totally fine with it. Besides, making impulsive decisions? I’ve been known to do that from time to time.”

No kidding. Their entire relationship had started up because she’d made an impulsive decision about losing her virginity. “I just wanna make sure I didn’t . . . you know, take advantage of you or anything,” he said, grimacing inwardly as he said those words.

“Oh, god no,” she assured him quickly. “Bellamy . . . you didn’t do anything like that.”

What if he had, though? She’d been vulnerable and emotional, and he’d sort of just been there.

“I wanted to,” she insisted. “It—it felt good. I mean, I know we shouldn’t . . .” She trailed off, sighing frustratedly. “I know it keeps happening, even though I’ve said it shouldn’t, but let’s just not dwell on it right now, okay? It was fun. And it made me feel better.”

He nodded slowly, deciding that . . . that was a good thing, ultimately. Anything that made her feel better right now, anything he could do . . .

“Not that I’m trying to, like, use you for sex or anything,” she quickly added.

“No, I know.” Even if she was, though . . . he wasn’t above being used.

“Okay,” she said. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“I know,” he said again. “You like me for more than my hot body.”

She touched her stomach, saying, “And you like me for more than my round one.”

“You’re not that round yet,” he told her.

“Oh, really?” She purposefully stuck her belly out even further by slouching. “My stomach’s been like a bottomless pit this week,” she informed him. “I can’t stop eating.”

“Well, that’s okay. You’re eating for two.” That was normal; that was healthy.

“Yep,” she muttered. “Eating for two.”

And just like that, she was down in the dumps again. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the baby—he knew that. But especially in light of that jackass Finn bailing on her, it was understandable why she still wasn’t jumping for joy about it.

“So what’re you doin’ for Halloween?” he asked her, trying to change the subject as best he could.

“Halloween?” she echoed. “You mean besides not going out and not dressing up and not doing anything fun?” She shrugged. “Who knows? I’ll probably just sit home and watch that Charlie Brown thing. What even is it? Something about the Great Pumpkin?”

“ _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ ,” he confirmed.

“Whatever. The Christmas one was enough. They could’ve just left it at that and cancelled all the rest.”

He got a chuckle out of her sudden burst of pessimism. He wasn’t sure what Charlie Brown had ever done to her, but apparently she wasn’t a fan. “So you’re not doin’ anything?” he surmised.

“Nope,” she said. “I really don’t feel like going to some party where I can’t drink and therefore can’t even socialize.”

Yeah, he’d been invited to a couple of parties, but he didn’t really feel like going to any of them. Miller was hosting one, but he’d warned him in advance that he’d be the only straight man there. And Bree . . . well, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to Bree’s Halloween party. “I have an idea,” he announced, hoping she’d be down for it. “Something we could do together. As . . . friends.” He was pretty sure friends didn’t fuck each other the way they had last night, but if they could just hang out this week without all the added drama and pressure of figuring their own relationship out, maybe that’d be the best thing for her.

“What is this?” she asked when he took one of the flyers he’d failed to distribute out of his pocket. “Trunk-or-Treat?”

“Yeah, it’s up at the elementary school,” he said. “You pay for a parking space, park your car, deck it out to be all scary or whatever. And then kids show up and go from trunk to trunk, and you hand out candy.”

“People actually do this instead of trick-or-treating?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“‘cause it’s faster and safer.” He rolled his eyes, feeling like some parents were just too damn overprotective these days. His mom had let him run all over the neighborhood with his friends, and nothing bad had ever happened. “The school gets half the money from everyone who pays to be there,” he explained, “and the other half goes to the people with the best car.”

“Like the best decorations?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He’d Googled a couple things. Some people went all out for it.

“So it’s like a competition,” she said, the flyer still in her hands. “I _am_ competitive.”

“I am, too. So we should do it,” he suggested.

“You wanna spend your Halloween handing out candy?”

“Yeah, why not?” Wasn’t like he had anything better to do. “It’ll be fun. We could get Raven and her boyfriend to do it, too, and Monty and his girlfriend, your other friend.”

“Harper,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, her. And Jasper and Maya. That could be their second date.” It was a good idea on so many levels.

“Well . . .” She considered it for a moment, then said, “My stepdad _does_ have a black minivan he uses for work. We could probably borrow that. That’d be better to decorate than just the regular trunk of a car.”

“See, now you’re thinkin’.” Clarke had a creative mind. He didn’t feel like he could put this together without her.

“Well, yeah,” she said. “Bellamy, if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna win.”

He saw an extra little gleam in her eyes, one that hadn’t been there when he’d first walked in. “That’s my girl,” he said, smiling.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, Bellamy accompanied Clarke over to her parents’ place during his lunch break. Her stepdad was there, and when Clarke explained to him what they were doing, he gladly handed her the keys to his van. Clarke wasn’t used to driving something that big, so Bellamy backed it out of the garage, then got out and took a look at it in the driveway. _Perfect_ , he thought. Nice big trunk. If they pushed the seats down, they had plenty of room to chill out in the back. Actually, it wouldn’t have been a bad place to have sex, but . . . no, he was in friend mode right now. As much as she _wanted_ the sex, this was probably what she _needed_.

They got together that night, too, at her place, for a brainstorming session. Clarke was totally into it. She brought out her sketchbook to draw out some ideas, and she put on some Halloween music to ‘get in the right mindset.’ God, she was cute.

“I think it needs a theme,” she declared. “Maybe we could make it match our costumes.”

“Well, what’re we gonna wear?” Most of the costumes at the store in town were for kids, and if he ordered something online, there was no guarantee it’d get there on time.

“I could be a zombie cheerleader,” she proposed.

“And I could be a zombie quarterback.” Octavia had lots of crazy makeup stashed in her room. They could use some of that.

“You still have your jersey?” she inquired.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure it’d still fit very well, but he could probably squeeze into it.

“Ooh, and then our whole display could be, like, a haunted football field,” she said, immediately taking pencil to paper.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, watching as she sketched the outline of the van. “We could get skeletons and set them up as football players.”

Branching off of that, she said, “And we could get monster masks for the refs. Or we could make them and paint them.”

“And then instead of the down markers, we could have tombstones.” It was fitting. Sometimes a hard hit in football felt like death.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, her whole face lighting up. “I like it.”

Oh, the ideas were really flowing now. Bellamy felt like he was back in school, except that he’d never actually contributed ideas to group projects back then. “And my mom still has this inflatable goal post in our shed from when I was younger,” he said. “We could use that.”

“And put cobwebs and bats and ghosts and stuff on it.”

“We got this in the bag,” he boasted

“Yeah, we do.” She picked up her phone and said, “I’m gonna text Raven and tell her she and Murphy are goin’ down.”

He smirked, watching her adoringly as she texted with one hand and drew with the other. For the first time in weeks, it didn’t seem like she was thinking about being pregnant. It just seemed like she was having fun.

She had fun when they went to the nearest Walmart and picked up decorations later that week, too. She liked stringing fake cobwebs in his hair and trying on monster masks. She even tried hiding and jumping out and scaring him, but it never worked. Sometimes the employees on duty gave them looks like they were crazy, like they couldn’t understand why two grown adults would be playing around like they were. But just getting to see Clarke _be_ playful at all after struggling so much lately . . . it was worth it. People could stare all they wanted. He didn’t fucking care.

It ended up being so easy to get caught up in the planning process of everything that Bellamy nearly forgot to register for the event in the first place. He had to swing by the elementary school for that, and as he walked in the door, a couple PTO-type moms were walking out. They gave him looks, then looked at each other and grinned. Probably thought he was the new dad or something.

He walked into the office and approached the very busy secretary. “Hello,” she greeted cheerfully, but it sort of looked like she was forcing a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Yeah, I wanna get entered in the Trunk-or-Treat thing.” When he said it out loud like that, it sounded _so_ lame, but screw it. He was in it to win it.

“Sure. It’s twenty dollars,” she said.

He took his wallet out, fished around for some cash, and managed to scrounge up that much.

“And your name?” she asked.

“Bellamy Blake.”

She took out a big binder and started filling out a receipt for him, or a ticket or something like that. He stood there, listening to the sound of a screaming child coming from down the hall, and a crying child coming from the other direction. Kids were loud.

The phone rang, and the secretary said, “Sorry, I need to get this,” before she answered. Bellamy tuned out her conversation, especially as the office door swung open and in came Raven.

“Huh,” she said, “looks like we had the same idea today.”

So it was official then. She was registering, too. “Yeah, well, don’t steal any more of my ideas,” he said. As far as he knew, her scrawny boyfriend hadn’t played any sports in high school, so if they even tried a haunted football field, it wouldn’t be as good.

“Please, I don’t have to steal anything,” she scoffed. “Murphy and I are gonna win. We’ve got the whole thing planned out.”

“Well, Clarke and I have a plan, too, and ours is better than yours, so . . .”

“Wow, so cocky.”

He shrugged. Came with the territory of having a big cock.

“I’ll have you know, we’re not taking it easy on you guys just because she’s pregnant,” Raven warned.

“Oh, I hope you don’t. That’ll make it all the more rewarding when we kick your ass.”

The secretary hushed him, and he remembered that he was in an elementary school, where that word was probably strictly prohibited.

“God, what are we doing?” Raven said. “Trunk-or-treating? We must be the lamest twenty-somethings ever. How’d you come up with this idea anyway?”

“Ah, I just wanted to do something nice for Clarke,” he mumbled. “This whole time she’s been pregnant, she hasn’t been able to think about anything else. She hasn’t even gotten to just . . . be happy. So I thought this would be fun to do, something to get her mind off other things.”

Raven didn’t seem to have a snappy response for that. In fact, she looked at him with this kind of sappy smile on her face.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing, it’s just . . . _Bellamy_. You like her so much.”

“Okay, let’s not get into that.” This wasn’t the time or the place to dissect his feelings for Clarke. No matter how obvious they were.

When the secretary hung up the phone, she quickly finished filling out his ticket and handed it to him. “Here you go,” she said. “You’re registered.”

“Thanks.” He pocketed that and threw out one last taunt at Raven before he left. “Have fun losing.”

She just rolled her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two days out from the competition, Clarke faked being sick just to get a night off work, and Bellamy headed over with all the decoration materials they’d gotten from the store. They set up shop in her spare bedroom, where there was plenty of space for her to a paint a candy bowl in the shape of a football and for him to cut out some shapes that were supposed to be spooky.

“How’s this look?” he asked, holding up a black blob.

She stopped painting. “Is that a bat?”

“No, it’s a spider.” The eight legs had kind of morphed together, but they didn’t look like wings, did they? “Maybe you should be doing this,” he suggested.

“It’s fine. Just try again,” she encouraged.

He placed the spider stencil pack down on the black construction paper and traced around it for the second time. “I was never good at this stuff,” he admitted. He’d taken a year of choir in high school just to get that damn fine arts credit out of the way.

“Oh, this is right up my alley,” she said as she dipped a paintbrush into a small bowl of white paint. “How many little lines go on a football?”

“Uh . . .” He squinted his eyes as he pictured one in his head and in his hands. “Eight.”

As she painted the laces on her football bowl, she commented, “This is really fun. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Good.” Fun was the goal. Although if someone had told him two months ago that he’d move back to Arkadia and end up doing arts and crafts with Clarke, he would have said they were crazy. Doing a sixty-nine with her, sure, but arts and crafts? Completely out of his wheelhouse.

He tossed the stencil aside once he was done tracing, but before he cut this attempt at a spider out, he just took a moment to watch her, to watch her delicate hands as she swiped her paintbrush over the side of the bowl. Her hands were beautiful and soft, just like the rest of her. They felt so different than his own.

“What?” she said, giving him a look.

“Nothing.” It was just that, being there with her right now, both of them six years older than they’d been on the only other Halloween they’d spent together . . . it was impossible not to reminisce.

****

_When Clarke had walked out of her house wearing a sexy little nurse’s costume, Bellamy had assumed that would be the highlight of his night. But he’d thought wrong. Clarke was spunky tonight, way more exciting than the supposedly ‘lit party’ they’d decided to attend. In fact, it was her idea to head upstairs, ditch the beer pong happening down in the kitchen. She took Bellamy’s hand and led him up to the second floor, and when Bellamy spotted a slightly ajar door to one of the bedrooms, he pushed it open, interrupted one of his teammates and his girlfriend from another school, and simply said, “Hey. Leave.” And that worked. Once he and Clarke were alone, he shut the door and made sure to lock it._

_“This is a lame party,” she said, pushing him down on the bed._

_“So boring,” he agreed, immediately reaching down to untie his robe. He’d gone ahead and done it, dressed up as Hugh Hefner in a dark red robe with a Playboy bunny logo on the back._

_Pushing his hands aside before he could get his robe undone, she climbed on top of him and straddled his waist. “What do you say we liven it up?”_

_Nurse Clarke was hot. He was actually surprised her parents had let her out of the house looking like this, but maybe the whole medical angle of her costume had been enough to convince her mom that it was okay. Plus, it was tamer than the Cowboys cheerleader one had been._

_“Oh, you must be drunk,” he said, smoothing his hands up her thighs. Hell if he was complaining, though._

_“Just a little bit,” she admitted. “Now stay down. Let me examine you.”_

_“Okay.” He’d never really understood the appeal of ‘playing doctor’ until right now. “I could get used to this.”_

_She put her pretend stethoscope into her ears and moved it around his chest. “Heartbeat,” she said. “Hmm, I can’t hear it very well. I think you have to take this off.” Grinning seductively, she untied his robe and moved it off his chest._

_“Can you hear it now?” he asked when she pressed the stethoscope to his bare skin._

_“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “It’s beating fast.”_

_“For you.”_

_Taking her stethoscope off, she slid downward a bit and said, “Maybe I should examine down here, too,” as her fingers hooked into the waistband of his black pants._

_“Maybe you should,” he agreed._

_At this point, Clarke knew what she was doing when it came to pleasuring him. She was assertive with the way she pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to release his burgeoning erection. “This all looks very good,” she said. “Best cock I’ve ever seen.”_

_“It’s the only cock you’ve ever seen,” he pointed out._

_“That, too.” She surprised him when she started fondling his balls, an area she hadn’t explored much yet. “I’m gonna give you a massage,” she told him. “Don’t worry, I’m a nurse. I know what I’m doing.”_

_He just lay there and let her touch him, already planning his own examination for her when she was done. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to envision that or experience a Clarke Griffin hand-job for very long, because a sudden commotion rose up from downstairs._

_“What’s that?” Clarke asked as her hands kept moving._

_He craned his head back to look out the window, and he was pretty sure he saw blue and red flashing lights. “Shit, cops,” he swore, moving out from under her. He pulled his pants up and shot out of bed. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet, and they abandoned her stethoscope as they ran to the door. He fumbled with the lock, then raced towards the stairs, pulling her along behind him. Two cops were just walking in the door when they were halfway down the staircase. “Come on!” he shouted, vaulting over the railing. He landed on the couch and motioned for he to jump over, too, as everyone else around them took off in all directions. It was chaos, but he caught her as she hopped over, grabbed her hand again, and darted to the back door with her. “Run!” he yelled as they spilled outside with lots of other partygoers. No way was he getting caught at a party with so much alcohol. He had scholarships to get, and underage drinking kind of dampened the chance for those._

_“Bellamy!” she squealed, sounding almost . . . excited as they ran through the back yard. They’d have to run all the way around the block, hide out behind some bushes, and then sneak up to his truck when the cops were gone. Simple._

_He doubted she’d ever been to a party that had been busted before, but hell, this was fitting. All of her most daring firsts were with him._

****

Bellamy shook himself out of his thoughts and started to cut out the spider. He accidentally chopped off one of the legs right away, though, so he knew he was gonna have to start over.

“So what’s this room gonna be?” he asked, switching to the bat stencil. That just seemed easier for someone as artistically-challenged as him. “Nursery?” He’d noticed the purple bunny from the carnival sitting on top of one of the unpacked boxes. Maybe that was the first of many toys the kid would have.

Clarke stopped painting, looked around at the plain white walls, and said, “Yeah, probably. I mean, that’d make sense. I’ll have to decorate that, too.”

“I can help you,” he offered. “I mean, I’ll leave all the artsy stuff to you, but I’m in construction now. I can build things.” Bookshelves would be easy enough, and maybe he could attempt a changing table. If Roan helped him, he might even be able to put together a crib.

“I might take you up on that,” she said. Setting her paintbrush down, she took a moment to admire her creation, then turned it around to show him. “Okay, what do you think?”

The bowl she’d been painting was oval-shaped, of course, and it looked like a half a football. The inside was green, like turf, but the outside was brown and white, just like the ball he’d once tossed around so much. “That’s awesome,” he said. It was textured and everything, almost looked real.

“We’ll just keep loading the candy in here,” she said, “and then that fits with our theme.” She set the bowl down on some newspaper to let it dry, then crawled towards him, picked up the spider stencil, took one look at it, and then discarded it. She didn’t need to trace a spider; she could just draw one.

“Clarke,” he said, stopping her right as she pressed her pencil into that black construction paper. “You know there’s no one else in the world I would do this with, right?”

“I know,” she said, smiling at him. “Thank you.” She got right back to work after that. Just like he’d wanted her to be, she was focused on the task at hand. She had something else to think about for a change, something other than her pregnancy. But in the meantime . . . he was still just thinking about her.


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20_

Clarke had to drive the van to the elementary school parking lot on Halloween night. She opened up the trunk and took out the decorations one at a time, all of which were pretty lightweight and safe for her to lift. They had an ugly old rug that she’d painted green to represented the turf, and Bellamy had painted white yard lines on there a bit unevenly. Then she set up their skeleton football players and their monster-masked refs out on the fake field, and put some air in the inflatable goal post the way Bellamy had shown her. The whole scene came to life pretty well.

“So where’s your partner in crime?” Raven asked as she moseyed on over from her assigned parking space. She and Murphy’s car, which they’d designed into a pirate ship, was right next to the van, and Murphy appeared to be donning a Captain Hook costume, complete with fake teeth, a hook for a hand, and an eye patch, while Raven’s pirate costume was a lot prettier.

“He had to work late, but he’s on his way,” Clarke explained as she taped the last of the spiders, bats, and ghosts to the goalpost. “Yours appears to be eating all your candy.”

Raven looked over her shoulder and scolded Murphy as he sat on the trunk gorging on Snickers. “Oh, Murphy, stop! You wanna win this, right?”

“Of course,” he said with his mouth full.

“Well, we can’t do that if we have no candy to hand out. So put it down.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Murphy mumbled as he set their bowl in the trunk.

“See? I’m the captain,” Raven boasted to Clarke. “Because I’m usually on top.”

“Your costume’s really cute,” Clarke told her, envious of how long and lean Raven’s legs looked in her short black skirt. She was able to show some stomach, too, in a corset-like vest, and she had on a bandana that she managed to make look cool and some knee-high boots that she managed to _not_ make look slutty. She didn’t look like a _real_ pirate at all, of course, but she looked good. “I wish I could pull that off,” Clarke said enviously.

“You could,” Raven assured her.

“Not right now.” Her belly was pooching too much for that, which was part of the reason why she’d just decided to show up in a black tank top that said _Not a food baby_ on it. It was pretty warm out that night, but she had a jacket, too, just in case she got cold “I was supposed to be a zombie cheerleader, but I couldn’t even fit into my uniform,” she lamented.

“This is cute, though.”

“Do you think anyone’s gonna be surprised?” she asked, holding one hand to her stomach. “Or does everyone already know?”

“I think a lot of people suspect,” Raven said, “but this is a creative way to confirm it.”

Yeah, she figured she could just take a few pictures tonight, post them online, and once people on Instagram saw her shirt, they’d know. There were a lot of people from high school she’d lost touch with over the years and didn’t bother talking to anymore, so this was the perfect way for them to find out. “You know what else is creative?” she said, motioning to the set up around the open trunk of the van. “This haunted football field.”

“Oh, you really think you’re gonna win, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” Harper and Monty had a Disney theme going with theirs, which was cute, and Raven and Murphy had done well on the pirate idea, but knowing Murphy, he’d probably scare all the trick-or-treaters. “Wait ‘til you see Bellamy,” she said. “He’s gonna be a zombie football player.”

Looking over Clarke’s shoulder, Raven pointed over to the other side of the parking lot. “You sure about that?”

Clarke spun around, surprised to seeing Bellamy walking towards her not dressed in his old football uniform, but instead as . . . what even was he? He had a light grey t-shirt and dark jeans on, sunglasses, some extra beard hair, and one of those baby carriers that moms and dads could wear on their chests. And he had a Cabbage Patch doll in it. “What’s this?” she asked him.

“My jersey wouldn’t fit, so I had to improvise,” he replied. “I’m Zach Galifianakis in _The Hangover_. Figured it’d be a shame not to utilize my awesome beard.”

“Wait a minute,” Raven said, motioning in between the two of them, “you guys didn’t plan these costumes?”

“No.” Neither one of them had managed to match their theme.

“So you show up in a pregnancy shirt, and you show up in a dad costume,” Raven said, smirking. “That’s called destiny, folks.” She left them alone and headed back over to her own vehicle, where Murphy was once again trying to sneak some of the candy.

“Cheer skirt was too tight?” Bellamy guessed.

“Oh, yeah. To be honest, it would’ve been too tight even without the baby bump.”

He shrugged. “We’ll still win, though.”

“Hell, yeah.” When he raised his hand, she high-fived him, feeling confident.

Anytime a new car came into the parking lot, everyone who was already there scoped it out to see if it was just another lame trunk with teeth attached or if the owners had gotten more elaborate with it. A couple of Bellamy and Clarke’s skeletons fell over, so they had to stand them up again, and Bellamy made sure they were in an actual football formation. They’d dressed them up and everything, so it was completely ridiculous, but the quarterback skeleton had on a #7 Blake jersey, the running back skeleton a #1 Miller one, and so on and so forth. While Bellamy hung some fake cobwebs from the car, Clarke dumped some candy into the football bowl she’d painted. It’d been a while since she’d painted anything, but it’d turned out nice.

About ten minutes before the event was set to start and most people were putting the finishing touches on their display, the six of them congregated together, and Raven said, “Okay, let’s be real: The competition’s right here. None of these other people even stand a chance.”

“I don’t know, I think the luau one’s pretty good,” Harper commented, looking down the row.

Murphy grunted. “Better than yours.”

“Shut up, Murphy!” Harper yelled.

“Yeah, we were strategic,” Monty said. “Everybody loves Disney.” He, of course, was dressed as Mickey Mouse, and Harper was Minnie.

“I don’t love Disney,” Bellamy mumbled.

“Yes, you do,” Clarke said. “ _The Little Mermaid_ ’s your favorite movie.”

“Clarke!” He growled, clenching his hands into fists. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about that!”

“Are you serious?” Raven gave him an incredulous look.

He didn’t respond, so Clarke answered for him. “Mmm-hmm.” They’d actually watched it together once, a long time ago.

“She just wanted to be part of his world, okay?” Bellamy said dramatically. “Is that too much to ask?”

Everyone laughed, but Murphy shook his head in mock disgust and said, “Everyone told me you were cool, man.”

“I am cool,” Bellamy insisted, readjusting the baby on his chest. “Fuckin’ homecoming king here.”

“Don’t swear when the kids get here,” Clarke told him. “That’ll make us lose points.”

The teasing and smack-talking probably would have continued had a big blue truck not backed into a space close to them. The bed of the truck was stocked full of huge props, such as big Hershey bars and candy canes, oversized gum drops and lollipops. How the hell had that thing even been allowed on the road with the big Candyland banner on top of the truck?

All of them just stood there with their mouths gaping when Jasper— _Jasper Jordan_ , of _all_ people—hopped out of the driver’s seat and exclaimed, “Hey, guys!” Maya got out of the passenger’s side and had some colored plastic squares in her hands. She started dropping them from the bed of the truck outward, like spaces in the board game.

“What the _fuck_ , Jasper?” Bellamy roared.

“Jesus Christ,” Murphy swore.

“That is impressive,” Monty admired.

Jasper shrugged, reaching into the backseat to take out several latex balloons. “It only seemed logical. Where else would they wanna go on Halloween but Candyland?”

It was so colorful and so extravagant that it made all of theirs pale in comparison. Clarke had no idea where he’d gotten that stuff, or how he’d made it, but Monty was right. It was _very_ impressive.

Turning to Bellamy, she said, “We’ll still win, though,” even though she definitely didn’t feel as confident, or even deserving, anymore.

“Of course,” he agreed.

When the kids started showing up, the competition was on. Most of them started at one end of the parking lot and shuffled on through, but for the livewires who just went running away from their parents, everyone tried to lure them to their vehicle first. Maya was good at doing that for Jasper. And of course the kids wanted to go see Minnie and Mickey Mouse with Harper and Monty. Raven’s outfit was so hot that some of the parents wouldn’t let their kids go anywhere near her—either that or they didn’t want their _husbands_ anywhere near her—and unfortunately, some of the little girls were less interested in Bellamy and Clarke’s haunted football field than the boys were. Bellamy was a good talker, though, always had been, so he coaxed a few over. It helped that a lot of the parents recognized him, too. While their kids dug through the candy bowl, they’d say things to him like, “You’re the guy who played quarterback a couple years ago,” and “You were such a good player.”

Bellamy conversed with everyone, but he focused most of his attention on the kids. Apparently their votes were the only ones that counted. Before they left, he said, “Alright, but make sure when you vote for the winner, you vote for the haunted football field, alright?” One particular little boy, who’d actually dressed up as a football player, grinned from ear to ear and nodded at him enthusiastically. “Alright,” Bellamy said, “give me a fist bump.”

The little boy fist bumped him right before running towards Candyland.

“Do you think he’s gonna vote for us?” Clarke asked, taking a seat in the back of the van, dangling her legs over the side.

“Not a chance,” Bellamy said, sitting beside her. “Look at the way they’re just flocking to Jasper’s truck. That’s not even _his_ truck. It’s his dad’s.”

“This isn’t my van,” she pointed out.

He shook his head, competitive as ever, and said, “I gotta turn this around. Hold down the fort. I’m gonna go get something.” He shot to his feet and darted off in the direction of his car. Clarke wasn’t sure what he was going to get, but seeing him run off with a Cabbage Patch doll strapped to his chest was a _hell_ of a lot different than seeing him run into the end zone, and it made Clarke laugh.

When another little boy, this one just wearing vampire teeth, approached, Clarke said, “Hey, you want some candy?” and held out the bowl. The kid looked shy until he got close, dug both hands into the bowl, and ran off with two fistfuls. “Hey, not so much!” she called after him, but he was gone.

A woman wearing cat ears, who Clarke took to be the boys’ mother, didn’t even make him go give any candy back. She just strolled along with him towards the next vehicle, and Clarke was irrationally outraged. She set the bowl down, got up, and scurried towards her, tapping her shoulder before she could get to Raven and Murphy’s car. “Um, excuse me? Excuse me,” she said. “Your son just took way too much candy out of my meticulously-painted bowl here. Do you think you could get him to bring some back?”

The mom shrugged nonchalantly. “Kids like candy.”

_Yeah_ . . . that was kind of the whole basis of the holiday, but that didn’t make it okay. “He’s being greedy,” Clarke stated simply.

“And you’re being a bitch,” the mom said.

“What?” Clarke gasped.

“Yeah.” Looking at her shirt, the woman snarled, “I feel sorry for your baby.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Oh, that’s it!” she shouted, flipping a switch when that woman decided to bring her own kid into the mix. “You wanna see a bitch, bitch?”

Hands on her shoulders tugged her backward, de-escalating the situation. “No cat-fighting,” Bellamy said. “You’re pregnant.”

“I was just gonna hit her with a verbal smack-down,” Clarke said, allowing him to lead her back to the van. “Not like we’re getting her kid’s vote anyway.”

“What’d she say?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” She supposed petty, catty, bitchy moms were in her future. Some of the women in this town were a piece of work.

Bellamy had a small blue Nerf football in his hand, and she asked him, “What’s that for?” Their skeleton football players, two of whom were about to tip over again, were set up with a tiny pumpkin as their football.

“A game,” Bellamy said. “Kick it through the goal post, get an extra piece of candy.”

“Hmm.” That might garner some votes, as long as they didn’t run out of candy. They only had a few more bags left. “Looks like you’ve got your first player,” she said as a boy in a lion outfit came towards them.

“Trick-or-treat,” he said, holding out his plastic pumpkin.

“Hey, that’s a cool costume,” Bellamy said as he dropped a Snickers bar into it.

“What’s yours?” the boy asked him.

“Oh, I’m a character from _The Hangover_ ,” he explained.

The little boy tilted his head to the side curiously. “What’s a hangover?”

Luckily, Bellamy had an answer for him. “Something adults get when they wake up and can’t find their self-respect.”

Clarke laughed and left him to run his little football game with the lion boy while she went to check in on Harper. “How’s it going in Disneyland?” she asked her friend.

“Good,” Harper said. “We’re totally losing to Jasper, though.”

“Yeah, I think we all are.” She wasn’t going to throw in the towel, but Jasper’s truck was like a freaking amusement park right now. There were _so_ many kids over there. “Bellamy’s trying, though,” she said, watching as he demonstrated how to kick the tiny, squishy football. The boy set his pumpkin down and tried, but he missed it completely, so Bellamy let him try it again. It didn’t go through the goal posts, but Bellamy let him have another piece of candy anyway.

“Seems like he’s really good with kids,” Harper remarked.

Clarke gave her a look. “Is that supposed to be a hint?”

“No. Just an observation.”

Well . . . Clarke had to admit, it was something she’d been observing, too. Bellamy was just good with people in general, but perhaps because he’d helped raised his younger sister, kids were kind of a soft spot for him. So of course he was good with them. He pretty much always had been.

****

_Leaning back on the metal bleachers, Clarke asked, “Why are we here?” as the junior high football game continued to play out in front of her. It was pretty boring, because neither team knew how to score very well, and there were more dropped passes than completed catches._

_“Because our boyfriends are here, and we have nothing better to do,” Raven replied as she plucked a tortilla chip out of her plastic nacho holder. She dipped it into the cheese sauce and held it out for Clarke. Clarke took it, ate it, and made a face at the taste. Way too spicy._

_The truth was, this game was going nowhere fast, and the food at the concession stand wasn’t much consolation for the boredom. But Bellamy, Zeke, and a couple other guys from the high school team had come out here after their own practice had gotten done, to stand on the sidelines and sort of assistant coach the kids. The eighth grade quarterback was about half the size of Bellamy and couldn’t throw to save his life, so whenever he came off the field, Bellamy was working with him, demonstrating what to do and how to do it well._

_“Our junior high team’s not very good,” Clarke remarked, glancing at the scoreboard. It was only 6-0 with two minutes left in the first half, but they were trailing the visiting team, and so far, they hadn’t made it past mid-field._

_“Nope,” Raven agreed. “And the varsity team’s not gonna be very good next year, either. Not without Bellamy. I mean, Zeke’s a good player, too, and so is Miller. But Bellamy just_ is _our offense, and our backup quarterback sucks.”_

_“Who even_ is _our backup quarterback?” Clarke pondered. Wasn’t it some freshman?_

_“Mr. Irrelevant as long as Bellamy’s on the field,” Raven said._

_Clarke imagined the Rockets team next year, a team without Bellamy on it, and it definitely didn’t seem promising. “So next year, school spirit’s pretty much gonna tank, huh?” she predicted. “No one thinks we’re gonna be able to win.”_

_“It’s gonna be rough,” Raven said. “And not just on the crowd.” She gave Clarke a pointed look._

_Clarke sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”_

_“Well, Zeke’s not gonna be far away, so he’ll be home all the time,” Raven said. “But Bellamy’s gonna be out of state. You won’t get to see him very much.”_

_Up until a couple months ago, that wouldn’t have even affected her. Other than losing some major eye candy in school, it wouldn’t have really mattered. “So you’re saying next year’s gonna be hard on me?” she said, not quite sure what to make of that._

_“Well . . . isn’t it?”_

_For a moment, she thought about it, picturing not only the football team without Bellamy now, but her. Her sitting at the lunch table without him next to her. Her walking down the hallway without him holding her hand. Her at parking lot parties, maybe just mingling with friends or . . . spending time with someone else? Flirting with someone else? Kissing someone else? Right now, it was strange to contemplate. “I’m not really thinking that far ahead,” she decided._

_“Not at all?” Raven pressed. “Clarke, you guys are, like, joined at the hip. Literally_ and _figuratively.”_

_She couldn’t help but blush. The literal joining was quite fun._

_“You’ve been spending so much time with him,” her friend went on. “You guys are like two peas in a pod.”_

_Although she hadn’t exactly sat down and calculated how many hours per week she and Bellamy hung out . . . yeah, it was a lot. But there wasn’t anything wrong with that. “We spend a lot of our time screwing,” she mumbled, even though she’d actually helped him with homework the other night. English. They were reading a novel._

_“But not all of it,” Raven said. “I noticed the cuddling at lunch yesterday. You just looked so couple-y.”_

_“Well, we are a couple,” she said simply. “For now.”_

_“But when he leaves for college . . . what, it’s just over?” Raven made a face. “It’s a relationship with an expiration date? Are you really gonna be okay with that?”_

_An expiration date? Clarke hated the way that sounded. She and Bellamy didn’t have to stop being friends, even if he became some hot-shot campus quarterback and started hooking up with other girls. “We’ll . . . deal with that when the time comes,” she said, not exactly loving this conversation._

_“Clarke . . .”_

_“What?” As much as she loved Raven, her patience was wearing thin here. “I don’t wanna think too much about the future,” she decided. “I just wanna live in the moment and enjoy what we have right now.”_

_Raven didn’t seem particularly satisfied with that response, but she must have sensed that Clarke was tired of talking about it, because she dropped it by muttering, “Okay.”_

_Clarke looked at the sideline again, where Bellamy was now high-fiving some of the defensive players as they trotted off the field. Apparently they’d gotten a stop against the other team, but Clarke had missed the play._

_“I’m gonna go get some nachos,” she said, rising to her feet. It was going to be halftime soon, and she felt like she needed a little space from all the questions her best friend had just asked her._

****

Clarke couldn’t take her eyes off of Bellamy. He was totally focused on the trick-or-treaters, on putting on a good show for them. One little girl in a cowgirl costume couldn’t stop giggling at him, so he must have been saying something funny as he dumped some candy in her basket

“He’s been really great, doing this with me,” she said, hearing a slight wistfulness in her words.

“Yeah,” Harper agreed, “it ended up being fun for everyone.”

It really had—a hell of a lot more fun than some stupid party like every other year. Maybe it was the start of a new tradition.

Clarke moseyed on back over to her haunted football field and stood by the goal post, waiting for a lull in kids to ask Bellamy, “Do you think the game’s gonna give us an edge?”

“We don’t need an edge; we got this in the bag,” he boasted. But one quick glance at Jasper’s truck made him add on, “But yeah, it won’t hurt.”

Clarke picked up the squishy football and regretted not bringing her pom poms. Sure, they were wrinkled as fuck from being shoved in the back of her bedroom closet at her mom’s house for years now, but if she shook them out and dusted them off, they would have still looked nice enough. Some of the little girls visiting their display may have enjoyed playing with them.

Speaking of little girls . . . “Twick-or-tweat.”

Clarke nearly melted when an _adorable_ girl dressed up as a fairy princess shyly approached the van. She looked so out of place on their haunted football field, and she even knocked over one of their skeletons, but Clarke didn’t care. She was so damn sweet in her pink frilly dress, with her hair all curly and sparkly wings on her back. She was wearing a little crown, too, with fake gems in it.

“Oh, look at you,” she cooed, feeling a sudden flood of emotion. “You’re so cute. What’s your name?”

“Mandy,” the little girl replied quietly.

“Hi, Mandy. I’m Clarke.”

“She’s a princess, too,” Bellamy added.

“No,” Clarke denied, “not a real one.”

“Yeah, a real one,” Bellamy claimed, even though he was the only one who ever called her that. “She’s a real-life princess.”

The little girl’s eyes got wide in astonishment, and she set her basket down so she could wrap her arms around Clarke’s legs and squeeze her. Clarke was . . . surprised, because she didn’t look very much like a princess right now. She wasn’t dressed fancily or made up prettily. She was just . . . she was just Clarke.

Smiling at Bellamy as the _actual_ little princess continued to hug her, Clarke let herself pretend for a moment that what he said was true. Because that would have meant that her life was a fairy tale.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

About an hour into the event, things started to slow down. There were still trunk-or-treaters, but not nearly as many of them. Bellamy got an extra bag of candy out of his trunk—real crappy stuff like tootsie rolls—and had some for himself. Clarke had one tootsie roll and spit it out. She said it tasted like plastic. Personally, he didn’t think they were _that_ bad, but then again, her tastes were all out of whack.

“I’ll be right back,” she announced, hopping off the back of the van. “I gotta pee.”

“Where you goin’?” he asked.

“Just behind that bush,” she said, pointing to the far corner of the parking lot. “Don’t let anyone sneak up on me.” She scampered off in that direction.

Only a few seconds after she had left, someone else sauntered up to the van and took her seat. It was that girl she used to date, the hot one who he’d met at her surprise birthday party.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey . . .” He wracked his brain for her name and managed to come up with it. “Lexa.”

“Nice set-up here,” she remarked.

“Thanks.” They definitely should have found a way to anchor the skeletons in place, because they’d been falling down all night. One of them just wouldn’t stay up no matter how hard he tried, but oh, well. Football players fell down on the field sometimes, even skeletal ones.

“Sorry I couldn’t participate,” Lexa said, “but my car’s a bike.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “You’re a neutral observer then. Tell me, who would you vote for?”

“Well . . .” She looked around, then said, “Jasper’s is really good.”

“It’s not scary, though,” he argued, as that was pretty much the only argument he could make against it. “Halloween’s supposed to be scary.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” She pointed to Murphy and Raven’s pirate ship and said, “I’d definitely vote for theirs then.”

“What?” he spat in disbelief.

“Yeah, do you see how creepy Murphy looks? Nothing scarier than that.”

Although his competitive fire hadn’t been extinguished, Bellamy was gradually beginning to lose hope that he and Clarke could pull out a victory. “Here, you want some candy?” he said, holding out the bowl. “We got enough left.”

“Sure.” She unwrapped a tootsie roll and began to chew it with a great deal of effort. Maybe some of them _were_ like plastic. “This candy sucks,” she informed him.

“I had to get the cheap stuff. I work construction.”

She spit it back out into the wrapper and dumped it in the trash bag Bellamy and Clarke were filling up. “Well, it was nice of you to do this with her,” she said. “I think she needed it.”

“Yeah, she did.” He looked over in the direction of that bush and caught sight of her blonde head of hair behind it. She must have _really_ had to pee. “Hey, before she comes back . . .” he said, sensing an opportunity to have a candid conversation with someone who knew Clarke pretty well. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” Lexa invited.

“It’s kinda . . . personal,” he warned.

She just continued to look at him expectantly.

“Alright, I know you and Clarke dated for a year,” he said, trying not to get distracted picturing two hot girls like themselves going at it. “Was it . . .” He wasn’t sure how to ask what he was wondering without sounding like he was prodding, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. He really wanted to know how serious their relationship had been, though, so he went ahead and got the question out. “Were you guys . . . in love?”

“Oh, I definitely loved her,” Lexa replied without hesitation. “Still do, but on more of a friendship level these days. And I know she loved me. But I don’t think we were ever _in_ love. That’s kind of why we both decided to break up.”

_Never in love_ , he registered, considering what that might mean. “And Finn . . . did she love him?” he questioned.

Lexa thought about that one for a moment, then answered, “No. I think she tried to, but he was never the greatest boyfriend in the world. She wanted to make things more serious with him, but he wanted to have his whole slacker year . . .”

“Which he’s currently having,” Bellamy muttered, wondering if the guy was sleeping easy at night knowing that he’d knocked Clarke up and had left her to fend for herself.

“Unfortunately,” Lexa agreed. “So it was just never gonna work out. Besides, I always got the sense that she was just . . . waiting.”

That was an interesting word to use. “For what?” he pressed, feeling like there was more she wanted to say.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Lexa said, looking him up and down. “She was waiting for you, Bellamy.”

_For me?_ he thought, wishing he’d come back just a couple months sooner. If he had, then maybe she never would have slept with Finn again. Her whole life could be different, and their whole relationship . . .

Everything could have changed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Moment of truth. At the conclusion of the Trunk-or-Treat event, after all the votes had been tallied, the elementary school principal gathered everyone in the middle of the parking lot and announced, “Looks like we have a winner.”

Bellamy was squeezing Clarke’s hand tightly, and she heard him whispering, “Please, please, please,” over and over again.

The principal drew it out for dramatic effect, but the result wasn’t a surprising one when he exclaimed, “Candyland, Jasper Jordan!”

“Yes!” Jasper screamed, throwing his hands in the air.

“No!” Bellamy wailed, doubling over.

“Rigged,” Murphy grumbled.

Monty, however, shrugged and admitted, “Fair.”

Everyone clapped for him, but the best part of the celebration was when Maya threw her arms around him and hugged him, and then they kissed.

“Ooh, get it Jasper!” Raven exclaimed.

He and Maya both pulled away, looking at each other in surprise, but then they smiled and kissed again. It was cute, and Clarke couldn’t really be too upset about it.

Bellamy, however, could. “This is bullshit,” he said, tearing the Cabbage Patch doll out of his costume. He tossed it in the air, then kicked it through their inflatable goal posts.

“You might wanna think twice before you let Bellamy hold your kid,” Murphy cautioned her.

She rolled her eyes. No, with a real kid, Bellamy would do just fine.

Cleaning up didn’t take nearly as long as setting up had, and the night was still young, so Raven and Murphy invited them all over to hang out for a while. Clarke was feeling tired, though—seemed like she could barely stay up past 9:00 these days—so she politely declined, and of course Bellamy declined with her. Thankfully, he agreed to drive the van back to her parents’ house, because just driving it to the school had been a lot for her. She was used to a smaller car, so she hopped into his vehicle and followed along behind him. After they dropped that off and popped in to wish her mom and Kane a happy Halloween, they went back to her house, where the first order of business was to head up to the bathroom and remove Bellamy’s fake beard.

“Hey, be careful,” he said as she used a pair of tweezers to pull away the pieces. “Don’t take off the real stuff.”

“I won’t.” She peeled back another strip of fake hair, and he grimaced. He’d used some glue, so it was kind of like peeling off a Band-Aid. But that appeared to be the last strip. “I love how proud you are of this thing,” she teased.

“Well, aren’t you?” he said. “Did you know I could do this?”

“What, grow facial hair? Yes.”

“But such manly, rugged facial hair.” He rubbed his chin and boasted, “That’s quite the accomplishment.”

“I’m very proud of you.” She wet a washcloth and started to wipe some of the glue residue off his face.

“Thanks.” He sighed frustratedly, shoulder slumping. “Oh, I can’t believe we lost.”

“I know,” she agreed. “Ours was so good. But you have to admit . . .”

“Jasper’s was good, too. I know,” he droned. Even though Bellamy hated losing, he sucked it up and shrugged. “It’s alright. I’ve already got an idea for next year.”

“Next year?”

“Yeah. Christmas in October. We paint the van white, make a winter wonderland. Kids love that shit.”

“That would be pretty cool,” she said, picturing it. Setting the washcloth down, she thought out loud, “God, I’ll have a baby by then.”

“We can dress it up like an elf,” he suggested.

She smiled at him. “You’re thinking ahead. You never used to do that.”

“Yeah, well, things change,” he said. “Some things. Not everything.”

_No_ , she thought, distracted now by the brush of her hand against the back of her own. _Not everything_. His touch was still so electric.

“Hey, Clarke?” His voice was quieter.

“Hmm?”

No longer in costume and no longer in competition mode, he gazed at her intently, like he had something he was just itching to say. “I know it’s been years,” he started, “but . . . there’s something I gotta know.”

There was? Maybe she was the wrong person to ask then. Because there was so much she _didn’t_ know right now.

“When we were in high school,” he said, “when we were together . . .” He trailed off, his eyes never drifting from hers, never blinking. It took him a moment, but finally, he asked, “Did you fall in love with me?”

For a second, she swore she stopped breathing. Because what kind of question was that? Did she fall _in love_ with him? Back in _high school?_

Of course she had.

She’d never admitted it to him, never admitted it out loud to anyone. In fact, she wasn’t even sure she’d ever admitted it to herself. And this question . . . it put her on the spot. If she said no, then she was lying, but if she said yes, then . . . then maybe she was just opening up a door that they’d tried to shut a long time ago.

In the end, though, the truth won out. She couldn’t exactly say it, so she just nodded, not breaking eye contact with him, even as tears stung her lower lids.

He waited a moment, took that in, and it didn’t seem to surprise him in the slightest. Then, he nearly knocked her off her feet when he blurted, “I fell in love with you, too.”

She wasn’t sure why that came as such a shock, but it did. Maybe because they’d just never allowed themselves to have this conversation before. Maybe because, just six weeks ago, she’d been living a life without him. But now he was here, and he was being more honest with her than ever before, and it forced her to be honest with herself.

Bellamy wasn’t just an ex-boyfriend. He wasn’t just the guy she’d lost her virginity to and spent her sophomore year with, and what had developed between them hadn’t just been some high school fling. It’d been so much more.


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21_

Clarke hated when people said they felt shook—why not just use proper grammar and say shaken?—but she had to admit, _shook_ was exactly how she felt the day after Halloween. Possibly even shook _eth_. What Bellamy had said last night just had her reeling. He’d left not long after saying it, since she made up a little white lie about not feeling so well and needing to get some sleep. But surely he’d had as restless of a night as she had. Because after all, it wasn’t just that he’d confessed to being in love with her back in high school. She’d confessed to the same thing.

She hoped that a visit to her mom’s house might quiet her racing thoughts. After all, her mom liked to drone on and on about work sometimes, about all the surgeries she’d performed and the ailments she’d treated. Those types of conversations were prep for med school, she claimed. But sometimes Clarke just tuned out. Today, one of those conversations would be alright, though. In fact, she welcomed it.

“Hey, Mom,” she said after she let herself inside.

“Well, hi, sweetheart,” her mom said. She was unloading the dishwasher but stopped to give Clarke a hug. “No class today?”

“Nope. Looks like you have the day off, too.” Clarke moseyed on into the living room and sat down on the biggest couch.

“Yeah, I do,” her mom said. “I think I’m gonna put up the Thanksgiving decorations later. You wanna help?”

“Sure.” Their Thanksgiving decorations were nowhere near as expansive and numerous as their Christmas decorations, but that would be one way to pass the time before she had to go to work.

“You want any breakfast? I can make eggs,” her mother offered as she continued to unload dishes. “They’re good for pregnant women.”

Yeah, Clarke had read all about the pregnancy superfoods, and eggs were supposedly one of them. On some mornings, she didn’t mind the smell of them, but on other mornings, she couldn’t even take one out of the carton, because the mere thought of eating it made her want to hurl. “I already ate,” she said, deliberately withholding the fact that what she’d eaten so far today had only been Doritos. Those damn chips were a _powerful_ craving.

“You seem tired,” her mom remarked.

“I am.” Physically, she’d been all set to go to bed early last night, but her mind had had other ideas.

“Don’t tell me you . . .” Her mother stopped short of finishing, then mumbled, “Never mind.”

“What?” Clarke looked back over her shoulder.

“Well, I was just gonna say . . . I hope you didn’t stay up late with Bellamy.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “No. He didn’t even stay over.”

“Oh, good,” her mom said, sounding more than a little relieved to hear that. “So the two of you are still just friends then?”

Clarke sighed heavily, muttering, “I don’t know what we are.”

“What?” her mom shrieked. “Meaning?”

_Meaning he’s the first person I ever fell in love with_ , Clarke thought. _Probably the only person_. “It’s private,” she said, not about to divulge any of the talks they’d had or the . . . things they’d done lately. This wasn’t why she’d come over here, either. At all. Her mom was supposed to be talking her ear off about hospital patients right now, not harping on her relationship with Bellamy.

“Well, Clarke, you need to think things through here,” her mom said, abandoning the dishwasher as she came into the living room. “This isn’t high school. Neither one of you is the same person you were back then. I mean, you’ve got a baby on the way. You can’t just fall back into hold habits with him and expect everything to be the way it was before.”

“I know, Mom,” Clarke growled, biting her tongue to keep from snapping at her. “I don’t need a reminder.”

Her mom seemed to think otherwise as she grumbled, “Well, maybe you do,” and headed back to her half-unloaded dishwasher.

_No, I don’t_ , Clarke thought. Every time she and Bellamy started getting too close again, every time she _almost_ gave into temptation and let herself just be with him, she reminded herself how complicated this all was. And she backed off. At least for a little while. But it was starting to become like a cycle. She and Bellamy fucked, tried to be friends for a while, and then just inevitably fell back into bed together again.

She didn’t feel like she could break that cycle, and it was getting harder and harder to even try.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy felt exhausted. Practically dead on his feet. Construction was hard labor, not something someone was meant to do on only a few hours of sleep. He was grateful when lunch break rolled around, but because he’d been spending too much money on fast food, he’d actually packed himself a sack lunch today. Or rather . . . his mom had packed it. In a sack. Just like she’d done in elementary school. Oh god.

Roan swung over to the student union and grabbed a Subway sandwich, but he came back to the site, where Bellamy had planted himself on the sidewalk to eat his turkey sandwich. “Alright, let’s get this dad moment out of the way,” his coworker said, whipping out his phone. “I gotta show you this.” He pulled up a photo of two little girls, both with light brown hair, and showed it to Bellamy.

“Oh, wow.” The girls were both dressed up in costumes, so he could only assume it was from last night. “That’s a lot of glitter.”

“Yeah, they wanted to go as Anna and Elsa from that movie,” Roan said, but Bellamy’s face must have given him away for not knowing who they were, because Roan added, “You know, _Frozen_.”

Bellamy had never heard of it, but he was pretty sure that it couldn’t hold a candle to _The Little Mermaid_. Few movies could.

“Anyway, we couldn’t afford the costumes, so my wife tried making them,” Roan went on. “It didn’t really work out, so we just made ‘em as girly as they could be.” He smiled adoringly at his girls, then pocketed his phone again. “They had fun.”

“Did you swipe any of their candy?” Bellamy asked. It seemed to him that that was one of the few perks of having to take kids trick-or-treating on Halloween.

“Well, I had to,” Roan said. “Had to inspect it.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Oh, I’m serious. Nowadays people make drugs that look like candy. I wanna keep ‘em away from all that.”

Considering the guy’s drug history, the paranoia was understandable. Bellamy supposed there were a lot of things parents had to think about to keep their kids safe.

No longer all that interested in eating, Bellamy put what remained of his sandwich back in its Ziploc bag and stuffed it into the brown sack. “So how old were you when you found out you were gonna be a dad?” he asked.

Roan stretched his legs out and recalled, “Twenty-five.”

_Not that much older than me then_ , Bellamy thought. He was turning twenty-four within the month.

“Echo and I had only been dating for a couple months. Hell, I’d only been out of jail for a year,” Roan went on. “I was trying to stay clean, and she had her own problems to deal with.”

Bellamy gave him a curious look.

“Prescriptions meds,” Roan succinctly explained. “But when she got pregnant . . . I don’t know, things just clicked into place for us.”

Bellamy wondered if it’d happened quickly for them, if it’d been one obvious moment where everything had clicked, or if it’d been more gradual. “Were you guys nervous?” he questioned.

“Of course, at first,” Roan admitted. “Especially when we found out we were having twins. But looking back, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to us. We might not have the most money or the nicest house, but we take care of our girls, make sure they’re happy.” A slight smile found its way to his face, the way it often did when he talked about his family. “Bein’ a dad . . . it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever done with my life,” he said. “I mean, look at them.” Taking out his phone again, he once again gazed down at the picture of his four year-old daughters, like they were his whole world or something. “They’re perfect.”

Bellamy took another look at Roan’s girls, princesses to him no doubt, and it made him think about his princess. And the blurry image he’d had the privilege of seeing not once, but twice, on the ultrasound monitor. Another princess, perhaps? Something told him it was gonna be a girl.

After work, he drove by Eligius, not surprised to find Clarke on duty. She was putting in a lot of hours lately, probably trying to save up as much cash as she possibly could before the baby was born. He stood outside the window for a minute, just watching her. She smiled at customers and zipped all around that bar, her rounded stomach just barely visible beneath the shirt she was wearing. When he stared at that bump, he heard the sound of that heartbeat in his head, just as clearly as he had during her first ultrasound.

He knew it was different for him than it’d been for Roan, because he wasn’t the father of the child Clarke was carrying. But still . . . it felt like something was clicking.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke hadn’t anticipated the night after Halloween being such a hectic one. She’d sort of assumed—naïvely, perhaps—that most people would have been tired from doing something the night before. But it just so happened to be some old fisherman’s birthday, and it seemed like half the town had shown up to celebrate.

Time was flying by because she was so busy, but it seemed to stop the second Bellamy walked in. “You guys are busy,” he remarked as he sauntered up to the bar and took a seat on the only remaining empty stool.

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to look too shook. “Birthday party.”

He nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the raucous crowd of ‘good-old-boys,’ as they insisted on being called. Clarke had taken their orders for food, but luckily, Diyoza was handing all the drinks.

“Can we talk?” Bellamy asked her suddenly.

Oh, no, she knew what he wanted to talk about, and her strategy for dealing with last night’s revelations was just to avoid, avoid, avoid. “Right now?” she said. “Not really. I’m busy.”

“She looks like she’s got it covered,” Bellamy said, motioning towards Clarke’s boss with his head.

She totally did, but Clarke still needed an excuse not to have this conversation. “Well, I have to handle the other customers,” she said, “and . . .” Feeling at a loss, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I have to pee.” Even though she’d just gone ten minutes ago, she scurried into the backroom, making a mental note to use this pee excuse whenever she wanted out of something. Nobody would question it because it seemed so legit.

_Dammit, Bellamy_ , she thought, wishing he hadn’t shown up there. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy seeing him—hell, he was the hottest person on the planet as far as she was concerned, so of course she _enjoyed_ seeing him. But all day, she’d been dreading this, not sure how she was going to put up the ‘just friends’ barrier in between them this time. Having sex was one thing, but admitting to the things they had last night . . . that was just on another level.

Opening up her work locker, she took out her phone, just to check and see if Finn had texted her back. She’d sent him a couple messages this morning, right after waking up, about the upcoming genetic testing she’d scheduled. She’d let him know the day and time and told him he could come if he wanted to, just in case he had any questions to ask about it. She’d also suggested that he pay for half of it, because . . . well, that was only fair. But so far, he hadn’t responded.

_Finn?_ she typed out quickly, sending that, too, just to convey that she was expecting a response at some point. Even if he just told her that he wasn’t going to be there and wasn’t going to help her pay . . . just _some_ sort of communication would be nice.

She tossed her phone back into her locker, slammed the small metal door shut, and raked one hand through her hair. God, this wasn’t easy. She had one guy who refused to talk to her and one who probably wouldn’t give up on it.

Creeping towards the swinging door that led out to the bar, she thought about that look in Bellamy’s eyes last night when he told her he’d fallen in love with her, too, and she peered through the tiny window to take a look at him. Diyoza or the other waitress on duty must have poured him a beer, because he was taking his first sip of one, and someone from the birthday bunch was coming towards him. He started talking to Bellamy about . . . something. Hard telling what.

Part of Clarke still couldn’t believe he was there, sitting in that bar right now, just a few feet away from her after years of being so far away. But there was this other part that felt like he’d barely even been gone, like hardly any time had passed. Like they were still the same people they used to be.

****

_“I got it!” Clarke chirped, racing downstairs when the doorbell rang. Her dad was holed up in his study, busy with work, but her mom was on the couch, wearing her glasses and pajamas, reading a cheesy romance novel. Clarke had heard the low rumbled of Bellamy’s pickup truck all the way down the street, and she wasn’t going to let her mom get to that door before she did._

_Flinging open the front door, she exclaimed, “You’re back!” and practically leapt into his arms, kissing him. His visit was only supposed to have taken him the weekend, but here it was Monday night._

_“Finally,” he said as he set her down. “Flight got delayed.”_

_“Did you just get home then?”_

_“Yeah, a couple hours ago,” he said. “Dropped my mom off at the house, came straight here.”_

_“Really?” He’d been_ that _eager to see her?_

_“Really.” Smiling, he kissed her again, and even though he looked tired and sounded tired, there was nothing tired about that kiss. It was sweet, and she’d missed it._

_“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand, pulling him inside. It’d been days since she’d seen him. He’d left Friday night right after the playoff game, which he’d dominated, of course. She’d hung out at the parking lot party without him, but it just wasn’t the same._

_Unfortunately, there was no way to get Bellamy upstairs without bringing him past her mom. The woman was parked on that couch, almost as if she were waiting for him. When Clarke brought him into the living room, her mom set her book aside and took her glasses off. “Bellamy,” she said, giving him a stern look._

_“Hey, Mrs. Griffin,” he said, offering up a little wave._

_After a brief but awkward moment of silence, Abby asked him, “How was UCF?”_

_“It was nice,” he answered. “I really liked it.”_

_“You think you might end up going there?”_

_“Mom . . .” Clarke couldn’t believe she would ask that. She probably meant it to sound like more a casual question, but having overheard the conversation between her and her dad, Clarke knew that it was more of a hope than an inquiry. Her mother hoped that Bellamy would go that far away, and she probably hoped he’d never come back._

_“We’ll see,” Bellamy said, doing a pretty decent job of not being fazed by any of the questions. Clarke admired his bravery in the face of her mom’s subtle but significant hostility, but she just wanted to get him out of there so he didn’t have to deal with it anymore._

_“We’re gonna go upstairs and hang out for a while,” she announced, deliberately not asking for permission because she knew there was no way she’d get it. “Let’s go, Bellamy.” Hastily, she grabbed his hand and ran him towards the stairs, darting up with him before her mother could protest or object._

_“You think she’s okay with this?” he said as they tumbled into her bedroom, barely managing to shut the door before they started kissing._

_“No. But I missed you.” She looped her arms around his neck and arched her whole body up into his as they staggered towards the bed._

_“I missed you, too,” he murmured against her mouth. They ended up practically falling onto her mattress, scrambling up to her pillows, him on top of her._

_“Oh, Bellamy, it was so bad,” she said, burying her hands in his hair as he kissed her neck. “I was so horny.”_

_Lifting his head, he asked, “Did the sexting help?”_

_“No, it just made me hornier.” She pouted, although she couldn’t say she was displeased with the naughty words and pictures he had sent her._

_“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning. “I’m here now.” Once again, he lowered his head so his lips could latch onto her neck, and he sucked greedily on her skin, right over her pulse point._

_“Mmm,” she moaned, perhaps a bit too loudly. Moments later, the door to her bedroom swung open. “Mom!” she yelped, pushing on Bellamy’s chest to get him off of her. “What’re you doing?”_

_“I think we’re just gonna leave this open,” her mother said in regards to the door. She gave them both a warning glare and kept her eyes on them as she headed down the hall to_ her _bedroom. She left that door open, too, so that she could sit down at her desk and see into Clarke’s room._

_“This is so unfair,” Clarke lamented, although she actually_ could _understand why her mom wanted to make sure nothing was happening. Truth be told, she hadn’t been thinking about having sex with Bellamy right now, just making out with him pretty heavily. No, if she and Bellamy did it while her parents were home, they were a lot more covert about it._

_“Ah, that’s alright,” he said, lying down beside her. “I’ll settle for a cuddle. I’m tired anyway.”_

_She supposed he was, what with jetlag and all, so she snuggled into his side, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. “So UCF was nice, huh?” she said, craning her neck so she could look at him._

_“Yeah,” he said. “Cool campus.”_

_At the risk of sounding like her mom, she had to ask, “Is that where you wanna go?”_

_“Maybe,” he said as his eyes fell shut. “It’s definitely an option.”_

_Resting her cheek on his chest, she pictured what a Florida campus must look like, then pictured Bellamy roaming around it. Bellamy with new teammates. And girlfriends. “I’ll miss you next year,” she said, wishing she was old enough to be graduating, too. Then maybe she could’ve . . . gone with him._

_“I know,” he said, smoothing his hand over her hair. “I’ll miss you, too.”_

_She didn’t doubt that that was true, but also . . . he’d be so busy making new friends and learning the ropes of his new team. He wouldn’t have as much time to miss her as she’d have to miss him._

_“But I’ll be back on holidays and stuff, and for part of the summer,” he said. “If you don’t have a new boyfriend, we can . . . you know.”_

_She smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, the completely chaste kind that her mother, who was undoubtedly still eyeing them like a hawk, couldn’t get mad about. “I’m glad you’re back,” she told him, pushing the college thoughts out of her mind. She’d meant it when she’d told Raven that she was committed to just living in the now with Bellamy. And right now, she was lying with him, very warm and very comfortable. So now was good._

****

The downside of using her pregnant bladder as an excuse to opt of conversations was that peeing didn’t take very long; so after a few minutes of hiding out in the backroom, Clarke felt obligated to head out to the bar again. Bellamy was still talking to the same older man, and although he looked vaguely familiar, Clarke couldn’t peg who he was.

“Hey, how come you never made it in college?” he was asking Bellamy. “You were good.”

“Yeah, I was,” Bellamy said with a sigh.

“Didn’t like the program or what?”

Looking down at the drink in his hand, Bellamy mumbled, “Something like that.”

The old man patted him on the back and said, “Well, good to see you, kid.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

When he was gone, Clarke inquired, “Who’s that?” Even though Arkadia was a small town, it wasn’t so small that she knew absolutely _everyone_.

“Miller’s grandpa,” Bellamy replied. “You know, it’s crazy how many people in this town see me again and _just_ wanna talk about what kind of player I used to be. They don’t care what I’m up to now. They just wanna hear about the past.”

“That kinda sucks,” she empathized.

“Yeah,” he agreed. As if he’d been looking for a segue, he shifted the conversation by saying, “But hey, speaking of the past . . .”

_Oh, no_. Her stomach knotted up.

“Can we talk about what happened last night?”

Playing dumb, pretending she had no clue what he was even talking about, she said, “What do you mean?” and got busy wiping down the counter, even though it was plenty clean.

“Oh, come on, Clarke, you know what I mean.” He gave her a look. “We said . . . I mean, we told each other . . .”

_That we loved each other_ , she filled in mentally. And even though they’d been using the past tense, it felt like it had some implications for their present, too, and their future. “We were talking about high school,” she reminded him. “And it sounds like you’re tired of talking about that, so let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“No, I’m tired of reliving my football glory days with people who expected me to make it bigger than I did,” he corrected. “I’m not tired of talking about us.”

“Us?” she echoed, not even sure what they were anymore. Or what they should be.

“Yeah,” he said. “Our relationship.”

She stared at him for a second, getting lost in the intensity in his eyes. Bellamy was a very passionate person, always had been. When he felt things for people, he felt them strongly, so even nowadays with her pregnancy complicating things, he was getting in so deep. Too deep.

“Our relationship’s over, Bellamy,” she forced herself to say. It was harsh, and the words felt like acid on her tongue, but she felt like . . . like she _had_ to say something like that, otherwise he’d just get in so deep with her that he might drown.

The look that found its way to his face after that was one of pure hurt. He frowned, narrowed his eyes at her in confusion, and shook his head in either disappointment or disbelief. She couldn’t tell which one, but clearly he hadn’t expected to hear her say that. After taking one more big drink, he got up and left, wordlessly, almost angrily.

_I’m sorry, Bellamy_ , she thought, ignoring a customer down at the end of the bar who was trying to get her attention. She didn’t enjoy hurting him, but she was just trying to look out for his best interests.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since his mom was working late and Octavia was probably out at some college party, Bellamy was home alone that night. And it sucked. First he flopped down on the couch, attempting to watch TV, but nothing kept his attention or got his mind off of Clarke, so he went and lay down in bed, hoping to fall asleep early. But being in that bed only made him think about Clarke some more, since they used to have plenty of fun there.

How could she claim it was all just over?

Around 11:00, he got up and went out to the refrigerator in an attempt to distract himself with food, but he wasn’t hungry, and nothing sounded appetizing. _Fuck this_ , he decided, grabbing his keys off the living room coffee table. Forgoing a jacket and stepping into his shoes on the way out the door, he decided to go for a drive.

At first, he didn’t have a destination in mind. He thought he might just cruise around for a while, listen to whatever crap was on the radio, clear his head. And the more he thought about things and let himself feel things, the clearer it all became. The anger he felt about Clarke had said today faded away, because he realized she probably hadn’t really meant it. The regret of not coming back to town a couple weeks sooner, that same regret that had been eating away at him . . . that faded, too, because he really did wanna believe that things happened the way they were supposed to. And those feelings he’d felt for her in high school—lust and desire and affection and, yeah, love . . . all those feelings just intensified. They’d always been there, even when he’d been elsewhere. But now that he was back and they were carving out a place in each other’s lives again . . .

It all just clicked into place.

He ended up at Clarke’s house that night. Of course. He probably should’ve figured that was where he was headed right when he’d walked out the door. The light was on, and her car was parked out front, so she was definitely home. Maybe she’d just gotten off of work, or maybe she was struggling to fall asleep just like he’d been. Maybe something was clicking for her, too, or maybe it was about to.

Marching up to the door, he felt determined in a way he hadn’t for a long time. He knocked loudly, and a few seconds later, he heard the door unlock, and Clarke opened it with a confused expression on her face. “Bellamy . . .”

“It’s not over,” he blurted, crossing the threshold to cup her face in his hands. He laid one hell of a deep, passionate kiss on her, drawing it out because he didn’t want it to end. It must have caught her off guard, but she kissed him back anyway.

There was no way something like this could ever just be over.

Even though he would have gladly just kept kissing her, he knew another night of sex wasn’t what they needed right now. They needed to just be honest with each other, because he got the sense that everything he was feeling was what she was feeling, too.

“What’re you doing?” she asked him almost accusatorily. Whirling around, she started to pace through her living room.

“Clarke . . .” He knew she’d enjoyed that kiss just as much as he had. Something in her just wasn’t yet willing to be as honest as he was, though, because she stormed out the back door onto the porch. Groaning inwardly, he followed after her. “Would you just wait a minute?” he called after her. “Would you talk to me?”

She marched out onto the beach, barefoot and not wearing warm enough clothes for this time of year.

“Clarke!” he shouted impatiently. “Why do you keep running away from this?”

“Because I don’t know what _this_ is!” she yelled back, spinning around vehemently.

He stopped a few feet away from her, willing to give her a little space as she let herself contemplate . . . everything. “I do,” he said. _This_ was the love of his life standing in front of him. He’d met so many girls all around the world, many of them beautiful and interesting and great in their own way, but not one of them had made him feel the things she did.

Grunting, she grumbled, “It’s a mess.”

“Kind of,” he acknowledged, wondering how things would have gone if he’d just gone to college close to home, if they’d stayed together. “But it’s _our_ mess, so that’s alright.”

“No, it’s not alright!” she screamed, her eyes ablaze with emotion. The cool breeze blew her short blonde locks away from her face, and he saw tears on her cheeks. “Look . . . I’m pregnant and you’re not the father,” she stated in a quivering voice. “But you’re still here. You went all over the world, and you ended up right back here six weeks after I . . .” She stopped abruptly, her mouth trembling as more tears spilled over. “You were too late,” she whispered.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” he told her.

“It doesn’t? Really?” she challenged. “You don’t care that I’m carrying someone else’s child?”

He shook his head. “No.” It didn’t make him want her any less, if that was what she was insinuating. If anything, he looked at her now, this young girl who was becoming a mom, and he had so much fucking respect for her. It just made him love her more.

“Well, you should,” she said. “You should care, Bellamy, because it screws everything up for us.”

“No, it doesn’t have to,” he argued. “Listen to me, Clarke . . .”

She took a step back when he took a step forward. “No, Bellamy, don’t,” she practically pled, her voice a mere whimper.

“Please. You have to hear this.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and looked away from him.

“Clarke . . .” He waited, waited for her to blink the tears back and meet his eyes again. When she did, he didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t just fall in love with you in high school,” he told her. “When I got home, one of the first things I did was meet up with you. I couldn’t wait to see you. Just talking to you that night, walking around town with you, _being_ with you . . . it all just came flooding back.” Of course he’d been blindsided when he’d woken up in her bed the next morning and she’d revealed she was pregnant. Of course he hadn’t seen that coming when he’d first texted her to meet up with him. But things in his life had never exactly followed a plan, so really, this wasn’t all that out of the ordinary.

“I feel the same way now that I felt back then,” he told her, feeling the confession rising in his chest. He’d never said these words before, to anyone other than his mother and his sister, but she deserved to hear them. “I love you, Clarke,” he said. “I’m still in love with you. And I think you’re still in love with me, too.”

Her eyes got wide as she gazed at him, and her breathing deepened. She looked like she wanted to say something, but all she managed to get out was, “I can’t do this,” as she turned her back to him and started walking further down the beach.

“Why not?” he challenged.

“Because!” she yelled, whirling back around. “Because, for the past five years, I’ve tried to . . . forget. And move on. I didn’t think you were coming back, and I didn’t think you’d want me even if you did. Not like . . . not like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, making a face. There was nothing wrong with her.

“Pregnant,” she cried. “I mean, have you even thought about that, Bellamy? I’m _pregnant_.”

“I know. I was the first person you told, remember?” he pointed out to her. “I was there with you for both ultrasounds. I heard its heartbeat.” He looked down at her stomach, amazed that there was actually this whole other person in there, growing every day. “It was incredible,” he said, smiling as he remembered the sound of it.

Shaking her head adamantly, she backed up and said, “No, Bellamy, I see what you’re doing, but . . . this isn’t fair to you. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“To do what?” She wasn’t asking anything.

“To just step in and . . .” Tears started to fall rapidly onto her cheeks, and she just kept shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your whole life just because I got pregnant. This isn’t your responsibility. It’s mine.”

“But I love you.” God, it felt so good to say that. Why hadn’t he ever said it before? Why had it taken him so long?

“But it’s not just me right now,” she protested. “It’s me _and_ this baby, and . . . it’s too much. I can’t let you do this.”

_She’s worried about me_ , he realized. All of her efforts to turn their relationship into just a friendship, to prevent it from becoming what it already was . . . she was looking out for him. It was admirable, but unnecessary. “Well, what if I want to?” he said, not backing down. “What if I wanna be there for you _and_ for this baby?”

Lowering her head into her hands, she wept openly.

“Clarke, I’ve given it a lot of thought . . .”

“No, you haven’t,” she cut in.

“Yes, I have.” Dammit, she was being stubborn as hell about all of this, and even though he understood it, it was starting to frustrate him. “Would you give me some credit here? I’m not an idiot, okay?” he said. “I know what I’m getting myself into. I know being with you right now and being with you going forward . . . I know it’s not what I was expecting. And I know it’s a lot to take on, but--”

“Bellamy, we are talking about your _life_ here! Your whole life!” she shouted. “Do you even realize how huge this is? Do you even know what you’re signing yourself up for? It might not seem like it at the time, but you make one choice, and it can just—it can influence _everything_!”

Yeah, he’d made plenty of those in his lifetime, and so had she. “You made a choice when you walked into that locker room and asked me to sleep with you,” he reminded her. “And I know you don’t regret it.”

“But what if you regret this?” she wailed.

“I don’t think I will.” He didn’t know the first thing about being a father, but his mom had shown him what it meant to be a good parent, so he wasn’t exactly the worst person for the job. “Clarke . . . I wanna be with you,” he told her, his own voice cracking, causing him to realize that he was actually pretty damn close to crying himself. And he never cried. “I wanna be with you no matter what.”

Wiping the tears from her face, smearing her eye makeup in the process, she said, “But we can’t just—we can’t just _be_ together the way we used to be. We were just kids, and . . .” Her whole body shook with a fresh sob. “We were so stupid, Bellamy. We were _so_ stupid.”

“No, we weren’t,” he insisted. Hell, maybe they’d been onto something back then, just surrendering to their feelings and not over-analyzing it. “I know we can’t go back to that, but . . . we can take what we had then and make it part of who we are now,” he assured her. “It doesn’t matter if you’re pregnant. You’re still you, and I’m still me, and we’re still . . . us.” He knew he was taking a risk by using that word again, considering how she’d reacted to it earlier. He was bracing himself for more of her attempts to push him away, but he was hoping she’d just quit trying to do that.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, flapping her arms against her sides.

“I want you to say you wanna be with me, too.”

“Well, of course I wanna be with you!” Those words spilled out of her mouth with so much emotion attached to them that he could barely understand her. “I love you so much,” she cried.

_She loves me_ , he thought. His heart felt like it was doing backflips in his chest, because although he’d sensed that for a few weeks, he’d never heard her say it until right now.

“Of course I wanna be with somebody who makes me happy and makes me laugh,” she went on, “and . . . somebody who makes me feel like everything’s gonna be okay.” She squeezed her eyes shut and clasped one hand over her mouth, and her whole body shuddered as she cried. “But I don’t deserve this, Bellamy. I don’t deserve . . . you.”

“Oh, Clarke . . .” He moved in closer to her, close enough to reach out and stroke her hair, then to cup her cheek. “You deserve so much more than you know.”

She didn’t back away from him this time. Instead, she closed the distance between them and allowed him to put his arms around her. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” she admitted, putting her trembling hands on his chest.

“We’ll figure it out together,” he reassured her.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“We’ll figure that out together, too,” he promised. He just wasn’t gonna let her do this alone.

She managed a tearful smile, and although she still looked nervous, he could just tell . . . it’d clicked for her, too. “I love you, Bellamy,” she whimpered, eyes still glistening with tears.

God, hearing her say that . . . he’d never realized how good it would make him feel. “I love you, too,” he told her, willing to tell her every single day from here on out. Because he didn’t envision it changing.

This time, it was Clarke who initiated a kiss between them. She rose up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, and he decided he wanted to do this every single day, too. He loved kissing her.

She was shivering, not because of her tears anymore but because of the cold, so he just held her after that, just hugged her to his chest and rested his chin atop her head. The ocean waves slid up onto the shore, coming close to their feet, but neither one of them bothered to move.


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22_

When Bellamy first woke up, Clarke was still asleep. He didn’t want to disturb her, and a glance at the bedside clock let him know that he still had about an hour before he had to be at work. So he decided to shut his eyes and keep lying there with her a little longer, until he absolutely _had_ to get up.

About ten minutes later, when he’d been close to nodding off again, Clarke started to stir in his arms. He loosened his hold on her, lay back a bit, and waited for her to wake up. When she did, she looked up at him with a sleepy smile on her face and said, “Hey.”

“Morning.” It actually felt kind of weird to not be naked right now, because usually when he and Clarke spent the night together, clothes ended up coming off. But last night, after letting it all out on the beach, they’d just come upstairs, kissed for a little while, and then fallen asleep together. It’d been nice.

Dragging her hands through her hair (which was sort of adorably all over the place right now), she looked around confusedly and asked, “What am I doing on this side of the bed?”

True, most of the time he took the left side and her the right. “You were movin’ all around last night,” he told her. “At one point, you crawled right over me.”

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m just really restless these days.”

“I noticed.” Although he couldn’t say that he’d slept _soundly_ next to her, he’d definitely slept _well_. He loved being able to pull the covers up over her when she kicked them off and started shivering, loved being able to hold her to warm her up even further. “I think you got up to go to the bathroom three times,” he said, amazed that she wasn’t sprinting there now.

“It sucks so much,” she lamented. “I’m really sorry.”

“Nah, that’s alright. It’s fine.” He could deal with a restless girlfriend in bed next to him.

“Are you sure?” she said, lightly rubbing his chest through his t-shirt. “Because if it’s not, you might wanna get out now. While you still can.”

He laughed at that.

“Because it’s gonna get bad, you know,” she warned him. “We’re talking mood swings like you wouldn’t believe—I’ve already had a few, but luckily no one’s been around to witness them. And ridiculous cravings. And swollen feet. And complaining. _Lots_ of complaining. Because my back hurts, and my boobs hurt, and I have so much indigestion. I think the morning sickness is dying down, but there’s a lot of other stuff that’s probably just starting up. And it’s not gonna be fun.”

It didn’t sound fun, especially not for her. But all the more reason for him to be around, trying to make her feel better. “I think I can handle it,” he said. Backing out now just wasn’t an option. He was in this thing with her for the long haul, and he wasn’t leaving.

Averting her eyes, looking down at the hand she had covering his heart rather than up at his face, she quietly said, “Last night was . . .” But she trailed off before finishing her thought.

“It was,” he agreed, getting what she was saying without actually hearing her say it.

“We’ve never opened up to each other like that before.”

“About time we did.” He’d never opened up to _any_ girl like that, ever. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Clarke had said ‘I love you’ to Lexa and even to Finn at some point, but he’d never said those words to anyone except his mom and his sister. And that was a different kind of love. “I meant every word,” he told her, just in case she was having any doubts.

“Me, too,” she said, tilting her head back to look into his eyes again. “Are you nervous?”

He made a face. “What, about us?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” he replied without hesitation. “I’m happy.”

A smile slowly formed on her face, and they both leaned in to kiss each other. Morning breath be damned. It was just a simple kiss, but Bellamy just got the sense that it was Clarke’s way of telling him that, despite her fears, she was happy right now, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Advanced cell biology was a waste of time. Clarke didn’t feel like it was advanced at all; she didn’t feel like she was learning anything new, and honestly, some of her freshman and sophomore year classes had been a lot harder. Cell biology was easy as long as she read the chapters and knew the material before the test. There were no homework assignments to do, no papers to write. She just showed up, sat through a lecture, occasionally took a few notes, and took a test after every unit. Easy.

When the professor’s lectures were boring, as they often were, she found herself getting distracted. Typically, she was able to re-focus a little better than she was today, though. Today, her mind was so elsewhere that she couldn’t help but pull her sketchbook—the one Bellamy had given her for her birthday—out of her backpack and flip to a blank page. She sketched hurriedly and with a regular pencil, so it wasn’t exactly her best work. But it wasn’t horrible, either. She drew her and Bellamy on the beach last night, holding each other, her crying tears of both guilt and joy while he made her feel like they could do anything as long as they were together.

When they were dismissed, the guy sitting next to her complimented her drawing. “That’s good,” he said.

“Oh, thanks.” She closed her sketchbook and put it away, deciding she might touch it up with some actual art pencils if she was still feeling inspired later.

Basically feeling like she’d just wasted an hour of her life, Clarke headed onto her next class. Except she was halfway there when she realized she had her days mixed up and that she didn’t have any other classes that day. _Damn pregnancy brain_ , she thought. It was already affecting her.

Fortunately, heading to the parking lot meant that she got to walk by the site of the library expansion, where Bellamy—no, where her _boyfriend_ —was hard at work with the rest of the construction crew. He was busy using a saw to slice a beam of wood in half. Since he had on a sweatshirt, she couldn’t properly admire his arm muscles or anything like that, but he still looked damn good out there. Working with his hands. His _amazing_ hands.

As tempting as it was to just stand there and salivate or maybe even go over and say hi, Clarke’s phone rang, interrupting her staring. It was her dad calling, which was . . . kind of rare these days. She had to answer it.

“Hi, Dad,” she said as she continued on down the sidewalk towards the commuter parking lot a few blocks away.

“Clarke.” Right away, she could tell by his tone that he was upset with her. “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

She was so taken aback by such an unpleasant start to their conversation that she didn’t even know what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t pretend like you don’t know,” he said.

_Me and Bellamy?_ she wondered. _The baby?_ Oh, god. She touched her stomach, feeling like that had to be it. Someone had mentioned that she was pregnant to him.

“Imagine my surprise when Alyssa shows me a picture on your . . . Facebook?” he said. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“Instagram, Dad.” No one her age used Facebook anymore.

“Whatever. She shows me a picture you posted of you and your friends from Halloween. She points out the shirt you were wearing. I could _barely_ make out what it said, but . . .”

“Oh, god, Dad. I’m so sorry,” she apologized. The _Not a Food Baby_ shirt. That wasn’t exactly how she’d hoped to reveal it to him. “I didn’t even think about that when I posted it.”

“Apparently you didn’t think about a lot of things,” he bit out angrily. But the anger subsided a bit when he asked, “So how far along are you?”

“Just a couple days left in my first trimester,” she said.

“So you’ve known for a while.”

“Yeah.” She cringed, hating that she’d probably hurt his feelings by not telling him sooner. “I’m really sorry. I was going to tell you, but the day I came to visit, Alyssa was over there and . . . I just didn’t wanna have that conversation with her around.”

“I understand,” he said, sounding as if he were trying to keep his voice calm. “It would’ve been nice, though, to hear it from you face to face. And what about your mom? Does she know?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t like she was trying to favor one parent over the other or anything. It was just that . . . well, her mom was still around. She saw her multiple times per week.

“And she didn’t tell me, either,” her father grumbled. “Lovely.”

“Don’t be mad at her, please,” Clarke begged. The last thing she wanted to do was be the source of any more hostility between her parents. “She knew it wasn’t her right to tell anyone. If you wanna be mad, then be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, Clarke,” he insisted. “I’m just . . .”

“Disappointed?” she filled in glumly. God, parents really needed to retire that line. Hopefully she’d never use it with her son or daughter.

“I’m surprised,” he corrected. “I thought you’d be more careful.”

She looked down at her feet, ashamed that she hadn’t been, and slowed to a stop at the crosswalk.

“But if you’re this far along, I take it you’re having the baby,” her father said.

She swallowed hard. “Yep.”

“That’s good. I’m glad,” he said. “Who’s the father?”

“Finn.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“He’s . . . not really my boyfriend anymore,” she mumbled. Her dad was _really_ out of the loop if he didn’t even know that.

“Oh, well, this just gets better and better,” he said sarcastically.

“Look, Dad, I’m already dealing with enough stress right now. Can you just not add to it?” she said. “Please?”

“Well, forgive me for being worried about my daughter, for wanting to know more about what’s going on with you,” he said. “You never tell me anything anymore, Clarke.”

“Because you’re not around.”

“So pick up the phone and call me,” he suggested. “Talk to me.”

She was just about to remind him that phone conversations could go both ways and that he could make more of an effort to call her, too, when all of a sudden somebody bumped into her from behind. A skateboarder or a biker or something. “Oh!” she yelped, spilling out onto the street. Luckily, she was able to catch her balance to keep from falling, but her phone went flying out of her hands. The last car through the intersection rolled right over it as the _walk_ sign on the crosswalk switched on.

Clarke stared at her crushed phone helplessly as people moved past her. Somebody said, “Ooh, that’s rough,” and another person empathized, “That sucks.”

Yeah, a destroyed cell phone _did_ suck, especially since she’d had a nice one. But she had a coverage plan where she could still get a new one pretty cheap. And at least the bright side was that this put an end to her conversation with her dad. For now, at least.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy sat on the couch with Clarke that night, letting her use his lap as a pillow. His mom had insisted on having her over for dinner, but there was no way she was making it that far, not when she was so tired.

“Oh, no, so your phone got run over?” his mom said from the kitchen.

“Yep,” Clarke said. “Destroyed. Boom.”

Bellamy smiled at her minimal sleepy conversation skills, and he gently rubbed her head, even as she started to drool on his jeans.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I needed a new one.”

His mom kept conversing from the kitchen, much more awake than Clarke was. “Phones are expensive,” she said. “Ridiculous, if you ask me.”

“Is that why you kept your slide phone so long?” Bellamy teased.

“Hey, that was a great phone,” she insisted. “Super reliable. I dropped it dozens of times, and it was just fine.”

Yeah, he didn’t hear her complaining about her new phone, though. He’d saved up, bought her an older version of an iPhone last Christmas. Sometimes he’d catch her awake in the middle of the night, sitting on the couch playing games on it.

“Is she gonna want anything to eat?” his mom asked, coming into the living room.

“I don’t know,” he said, “she’s pretty tired.”

“No, I’m awake,” Clarke said, pushing herself up off his lap. It seemed to take a great deal of effort just to sit up right, though, and she never really did fully open her eyes. Whenever she tried, they always just fluttered shut again.

“Are you hungry, Clarke?” his mom asked her.

“Always,” she said. But she ended up tilting over and resting her head on Bellamy’s shoulder. She seemed more tired than she did hungry right now.

“Maybe I’ll just make a plate for her and put it in the fridge,” his mom decided.

“Good idea. Hey, Clarke?” Bellamy tried to move his sleepy girlfriend.

“Hmm?”

“Grab onto me, alright?” he told her.

One of her hands reached down for his crotch.

“No, not that part of me,” he hissed.

“Oops, sorry.” She lazily wrapped her arms around his neck, and he scooped her up, carrying her down the hallway and into his bedroom. He could have just let her rest on the couch, but his bed was comfier.

“There you go,” he said, laying her down. “Is that alright?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, curling up on her side. She was lying on the sheets, so he just pulled the bedspread up over her to keep her warm. Kneeling down by the side of the bed, he pushed her hair off of her forehead and out of her eyes and just took a moment to soak in how pretty she was. He’d always known Clarke was pretty, of course—he had eyes, after all—but lately, there was just something extra to it. Maybe pregnancy glow was a real thing.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, sure that she was sleeping now. He’d come wake her up later, drive her home and put her to bed there. He didn’t mind taking care of her. In fact, it was kind of nice to feel needed again.

****

_With the semifinal game being on a Saturday, that meant Arkadia had the whole morning and some of the afternoon to get pumped up. Every store Bellamy drove by had signs in the window supporting the Rockets, and anyone who saw him wished him luck tonight. He didn’t believe in luck, though; he believed in skill. And he had skill._

_At the elementary school, someone was sponsoring a gigantic pep rally for the kids. The cheerleaders were there, the dance team, the band. So Bellamy made a pit-stop before it was time to get on the bus and travel to the host school. They’d been fortunate enough to host the first two rounds of playoffs and the quarterfinal match, but everything had to be on neutral sites now. The semifinal game was taking place a half an hour away._

_He wove through a bunch of little kids doing all sorts of activities—musical chairs, shooting hoops, and Twister to name a few—and found Clarke at her own little station. Someone had brought in a small table, and she had some paints and designs set out on it. She was face-painting._

_“That tickles,” the little boy in the chair in front of her said as she ran a thin brush over his cheek._

_“I know,” she said. “Just a little bit more. You’re almost done.”_

_“You can’t rush art, kid,” Bellamy informed him as he approached._

_Clarke stopped painting, and the boy looked up at Bellamy with wide eyes. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, taking in his jersey. “You play football?”_

_“He’s our best player,” Clarke informed him. “In fact, you’ve got his last name and his number on your face now. Take a look.” She held up a mirror, and the boy marveled at the design she’d painted on his cheek. It was indeed a #7 with the name_ Blake _running up the number._

_“Cool!” the kid said, smiling excitedly._

_“Didn’t it turn out good?”_

_“Yeah! Thanks!” He shot up from his chair and ran off to show either his friends or his parents. Bellamy took his seat and asked Clarke, “How’d you get roped into this?”_

_“Oh, I didn’t,” she said, dipping her brush in a glass of water. “I volunteered. And I’ll have you know, the Blake #7 is my most popular design.”_

_“Oh, yeah?” He had to admit, he took some pride in that. “What’re some of the others?” he asked, moving the chair closer so he could get a better look at the options._

_She handed him a paper with all the designs, and he was amazed at how good they all looked. There was their school mascot, a football with the words_ State Bound _above and below it, a_ Go Big Green _in fancy letters, and a whole host of others. “These are awesome, Clarke,” he said. “You could be, like, a tattoo artist or something.”_

_“Yeah, right,” she said, laughing a little. “My mom and dad won’t settle for anything less than med school.” She took the paper back from him and asked, “You want one?”_

_“Oh, I can’t. Coach would flip his lid if I show up with anything other than eye-black on my face,” he would’ve gotten the mascot if he could have, though. It was cool that so many people were getting the one with his name on it, but he wasn’t the whole team. There were other guys out there on the field who were going to contribute to them winning, too. “I can paint something on you, though,” he offered, taking the brush out of her hand._

_“Okay. Do the #7,” she said, turning her left cheek towards him._

_“Alright, I got this.” He dipped the brush into the green paint, not really sure how much he needed for it to show up well and not fade. “Don’t worry now, babe,” he said as he smeared it on in roughly the shape of a seven. “You’re in the hands of a master.”_

_“You_ do _have masterful hands,” she said, screwing the design up a bit when she smiled. “So are you ready for tonight?”_

_“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He blew on her cheek, trying to get it to dry quickly so he could use the white paint on top of it. “It’s gonna be a tough game, but we got this.”_

_“Is the other team undefeated, too?”_

_“Yep. And they’re favored to win by a touchdown.” He scoffed at that, switching paintbrushes to one that was already covered in white._

_“But you’re not gonna let that happen,” she said confidently._

_“Nope.” If any team was going to win by a touchdown, it was going to be_ his _team. They’d never gotten this far before. He sure as hell wasn’t backing down now._

_“Well, I think the whole town’s gonna show up to cheer you guys on,” she said as he outlined the green seven in white._

_“Are you gonna cheer me on?”_

_“Of course,” she said. “I’m a cheerleader.”_

_“A sexy cheerleader.”_

_Since he was looking right at her cheek right now, it was so obvious when she blushed. He loved making Clarke blush, getting those coy smiles and looks out of her. Flirting with her was definitely one of his favorite pastimes. It just never got boring._

_As he attempted to write_ Blake _inside the number seven, she said, “Maybe if you’re not too tired from all the touchdowns you score tonight, you can score with me.”_

_“That’ll be my best score of the night.” He grinned, excited by the thought, and then sat back, surveying his . . . artwork. “Alright, I’m done,” he announced._

_“Let’s see how you did.” She picked up the mirror, took one look at her cheek, and shrieked, “Oh my god! Bellamy!”_

_“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I have no artistic talent.” It looked more like a Z than a seven, and his last name wasn’t even legible. “Hey, it’s one of a kind, though,” he said. “Just like you are.”_

_She set the mirror down, trying and failing to give him an annoyed look._

_“That was a good one, wasn’t it?” he recognized. “One of a kind. I’m so smooth.”_

_She rolled her eyes, then cracked a bit of a smile and admitted, “Yeah, it was pretty good.”_

_He would have gladly sat there and watched her paint someone else’s face, since she actually_ had _artistic talent and knew how to use it, but he heard Miller call to him, “Bellamy! We’re leavin’.”_

_He groaned, not exactly bummed to be heading to the game so much as he was bummed to have to leave her there. “Gotta go get on the bus,” he said. “Not that I need it, but . . . wish me luck?”_

_“Good luck,” she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek._

_When he got up to leave, a few kids followed him out the door. It was kind of surreal knowing that they looked at him and saw . . . almost a celebrity. Coach had always reminded the team that young kids looked up to them and wanted to be like them someday, but an event like this really drove home how true that was. He had kids asking to go with him and shouting words of encouragement. It was nuts, but in a good way._

_When he got on the bus a few minutes later, he headed straight for the back. Nobody sat with him, because everyone knew his ritual for away games. He sat by himself, put his earbuds in, and listened to pump-up music the whole ride there. They could sit and talk all they wanted to, but he had to get himself in the zone._

_Just as the bus had started to drive off, he got a text from Clarke. A picture. She’d sent him a picture with a few of the kids whose faces she’d painted today. They were all representing the Blake #7, and even though most of them probably wouldn’t even be at the game, they looked so excited._

Looks like you’ve got a lot of cheerleaders, _Clarke’s message beneath the picture read._

_He smiled, thinking about all the other people in that crowd who were going to be rooting him on tonight. His mom. His sister. Scouts from at least four different schools. He had a lot of people depending on him to get the job done and win that game. He wasn’t gonna let them down._

****

When Bellamy shuffled out into the kitchen, his mom was just finishing up with dinner. “Is she asleep?” she asked as he made up a plate for Clarke.

“Yeah.” She was drooling all over his pillow now, but hell if he cared.

“Oh, the poor thing,” his mom empathized. “I remember what it’s like to feel so zapped for energy.”

Leaning back against the counter, he asked, “Who zapped your energy more, me or Octavia?”

“Oh, Octavia, for sure.”

He chuckled, figuring as much. Octavia had always just been a high energy kid. He’d given her so many piggy-back rides when he’d been younger that she’d nicknamed him Horsie—luckily that hadn’t stuck—and hide-and-seek games with her had _always_ lasted at least an hour.

Bellamy wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject of the . . . well, the _evolution_ in his and Clarke’s relationship with his mother, but he figured that right now was his chance, so he cleared his throat and went for it. “Well, hey, now that it’s just the two of us,” he started in, “I should probably let you know . . . Clarke and I are back together.”

“Not surprising,” she said, wrapping up Clarke’s plate with tin foil. “Saw that coming a mile away.”

“It’s . . . pretty serious,” he said. “Very serious, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” His mom opened up the fridge and started re-arranging things, trying to make room for Clarke’s food.

“I told her I love her,” he blurted out.

Quickly, she stashed the plate, shut the fridge, and spun around to look at him with an excited gleam in her eyes.

“And she said she loves me, too,” he added.

His mom smiled, tears rushed to her eyes, and she put her hand over her heart.

“Don’t get all mushy,” he told her.

“I can’t help it,” she said, closing the space between them. “I’m so happy for you, both of you.”

“Thanks.” He’d figured she would be, which was why he hadn’t worried about telling her. “So I’m gonna be there for her with everything she’s got goin’ on,” he told her. “The father isn’t . . . he’s kinda out of the picture, so . . . I think I’m gonna step in.”

“With the baby?”

“Yeah.” Truth be told, that was the _only_ part he was a little bit nervous telling her about. Because it was a really big decision.

“Oh, Bellamy . . .” Trying to fight back her tears, she hugged him, much like she had after every football game, and said, “I’m so proud of you.”

He hugged her back, glad that he was able to make her proud, especially since he felt like it’d been a while since he’d done that. Of course, she’d claim that she was always proud of him, that she’d never stopped being grateful that he was her son. But he felt like he’d kind of been a lousy one the past couple years. Sure, seeing the world had been great, but . . . he had a world back here, too. And now, there were three women and a baby at the center of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke loved the feel of Bellamy’s arm around her waist as he walked up the stairs with her. Even the simplest touch from him was comforting, reassuring. She needed that.

“Sometimes I wish my parents were more like your mom,” she said as they headed to her bedroom. “Just understanding and supportive no matter what.”

“You don’t think your parents will be supportive of us?” he asked.

“I think they’ll be . . .” She paused, searching for the right word. “Skeptical. Especially my mom.” She pushed open the bedroom door, pushing any concerns about her parents’ reaction out of her mind along with it. “But oh, well. We can prove her wrong.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed, setting his hands in the curve of her hips when she turned to face him. “So are you still tired,” he asked, “or . . .”

“No, my little nap helped me out,” she said, a bit embarrassed that she’d slept the majority of the night away at Aurora’s. The woman had cooked her dinner and everything.

“So do you want me to stay the night?” Bellamy questioned.

“If you want to,” she replied sweetly.

“Oh, I want to,” he said. “If you want me to.”

She slid her hands down his forearms and took his hands in hers. “You know what I want?” she said.

“What?”

Linking their fingers together, she felt the rumblings of desire stirring in her stomach. “You.” She wasn’t sure if she’d been dreaming about sex earlier or what, but she’d definitely woken up feeling . . . horny.

“Is it just me, or is pregnancy making you extra thirsty?” he teased.

“Well, all my apps did say that sex drive can pick up at this point,” she said with a subtle shrug. “I don’t know.” If there were any plus sides to pregnancy, she was going to cling to them. “So are you down for it?”

“Uh, no,” he said. “It’s safe to say I’m . . . up.”

She glanced down at his pants, happy to see a slight bulge. Nothing huge just yet, but . . . well, it would _get_ huge, because Bellamy had such a nice package, and she so loved that about him. “Let’s have sex, Bellamy,” she said bluntly, fine with just cutting to the chase.

He didn’t take much convincing. “Okay,” he said. “Anything I should know?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like . . . anything you’re in the mood for?” he said, unhooking his hands with hers so he could touch her sides. “Or you anything you wanna avoid? ‘cause I’m all about making you feel good right now.”

_That_ sounded like pure pleasure. Bellamy was always pretty focused on her during sex, but now more than ever, that was just what she needed. “Well, my boobs are still kind of tender,” she told him. “And my nipples are getting huge now. I’m so self-conscious about them. So maybe just stay away from up there for now.”

He pouted momentarily, and she could tell he was disappointed because he loved paying attention to her breasts. “And what about . . .” He trailed off, not needing to ask the question when he slipped one hand down into the waistband of her sweatpants to give her panty-clad pussy a nice stroke.

She inhaled sharply at the touch and said, “Oh, that’s open for business. Except no blowing air into there.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. One of my apps just said not to do that. But licking’s fine.”

Almost as if to preview what was to come, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Alright,” he said. “What else?”

“Well . . . you can still be on top for now, but you can’t be lying on my stomach,” she said. “You gotta hold yourself up. Which . . .” She squeezed his strong biceps, grinning. “. . . shouldn’t be a problem.” Bellamy was a strong guy. He could handle any position she threw at him. “I think that about covers it.”

“Got it,” he said. “Let’s get you naked then.” After that, his hands were just _everywhere_ , undressing her hastily but lovingly. Every time a new expanse of her skin was exposed, he massaged it with his calloused palms. Her back, her shoulders, her ass . . . sometimes it felt like _he_ was the artist and she was clay for him to mold.

While he stripped down to nothing, she crawled up onto the bed, on all fours at first as she debated the position. Doggy style was always good, but they’d be having a lot of sex that way once she got further along. She wanted to do some more missionary while they still feasibly could, so she lay on her back and put a pillow under her hips right away.

“God, you look beautiful,” he said, joining her on the bed once he was naked.

“Thanks for saying that.” She really was self-conscious about how her breasts were looking, though. She’d gone up a cup size already, which was uncomfortable but manageable, but there were all these veins showing up that weren’t normally there, and she was so worried something was going to leak out at some point.

“No, you do,” he insisted, settling in next to her. First he kissed her lips, then her chin, her throat, down to her collarbone and . . .

“Ow,” she yelped when he grabbed one of her breasts.

“Sorry,” he apologized, immediately letting go.

It was going to be an adjustment for both of them, for sure, not starting the foreplay up there. Hopefully the tenderness would subside and she’d get over her insecurities, because Bellamy had once made her cum just from lavishing attention to her boobs, and she really wanted to see if he could pull that off again.

He ventured further south, stopping to pay deliberate attention to her stomach. Each kiss he planted around her bellybutton was feather light and even tickled a bit, and it just looked so _sweet_ , him kissing the place where the baby was.

Things quickly escalated, however, when he moved down even further, to the juncture between her legs. She felt super wet already—increased lubrication was another side effect of pregnancy, she’d read. Bellamy’s mouth on her pussy made some absolutely obscene smacking sounds as he kissed and licked at her, doing what he did best. _Literally_ the best out of everyone she’d ever been with. He was better at oral sex than girls were, and that was saying something.

“Mmm . . .” she moaned, closing her eyes to lose herself in the stimulation. “Oh . . .” His technique combined with his utter _enthusiasm_ for going down on her just made it an exhilarating experience, one that quickly worked her body into a frenzy. “That feels so good.”

“You taste so good,” he whispered against her without even lifting his head.

She shuddered at the feel of his breath against her pussy. Her whole body was starting to get that charged feeling, and judging by the way he was rolling his hips against the mattress, he was pretty worked up, too. “Bellamy, I need you,” she told him, giving his hair a tug to get him to lift his head up. His mouth and his tongue and his hands . . . all of that was great, but right now, she wanted his cock inside her. It’d been over a week at this point. Too long.

Bellamy sat back on his knees, moving forward on them when she spread her legs out to the sides. Holding the base of his cock in one hand, he guided it inside her, and she was such a soaked mess down there that he just slid in like butter. “Oh, god,” she said, never tiring of this, this initial rush of being joined with him. Bellamy felt so good inside her.

“Fuck,” he swore, shutting his eyes for a moment. He took a few deep breaths, then leaned forward, putting one arm on either side of her, keeping them straight as he starting thrusting. He took things slow, maybe because he was testing out the position or maybe because he just wanted to go slower. She wanted to go a little faster, though, so she groaned and tried to press her hips into his. He got the hint, bent forward farther, and resorted to holding himself up on his forearms, kind of in a push-up position. It must not have been the most comfortable, but it kept him from lying on her stomach while still allowing them to be close.

His movements never did become that fast, but they were strong. Deep, determined thrusts that moved her whole body. “Oh, Clarke,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Whenever he did that, he was usually trying to keep from cumming. “I love you so much,” he said, his words just blending together into one big one.

“Mmm,” she purred, rubbing his straining arm muscles. He’d never said that to her during sex before. But now that he had, it was _such_ a huge turn-on.

“Is this okay?” he asked her unsurely, his hips never halting.

She nodded, unaccustomed to him asking that. He was always so confident in what he was doing when it came to sex, but this was new to him, she supposed, being so conscious of the baby.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Yeah.” His cock was like this obedient machine just sliding in and out of her, making her feel _so_ good all over. How had she ever gone five years without this on the regular?

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum,” she choked out. “I’m gonna cum, Bellamy.”

“Do it,” he urged as a bead of sweat dropped down the side of his face. He was definitely getting a workout.

“Oh,” she gasped, zoning in on the pleasure pulsating through her pussy and swirling in her stomach. “ _Oh_ . . .” Letting go, falling over that edge, she let her orgasm just completely ripple through her. Every part of her body that had felt charged felt electrified and alive, and she appreciated the way he kept fucking her straight through it. Just as she was coming down, he was getting off, ramming his cock into her hard a few times as he came. She sort of loved that there was no need for a condom right now, because she loved feeling him spill himself inside her.

Normally, he might have collapsed onto her for a minute or two, only rolling off of her when he got too heavy, but this time he pulled out quickly. Not because he wanted to, of course, but because he needed to give his arms some relief. He practically crashed next to her, and his hand started to come up towards her breasts before he remembered not to. So instead, he slithered down on the bed just a bit so that his head was close to her stomach. As she tangled one hand in his hair to massage his scalp, he spread his fingers out over the small bump and made circles around her bellybutton with his thumb. It all just felt very . . . soft. And very loving.


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23_

Since Bellamy worked five days a week and Clarke was juggling a job with school, they didn’t have as much time together as they would have liked. Especially not since Clarke tended to fall asleep so damn early most nights. They made the most of what time they did have, though. If she wasn’t over at his place, he was over at hers. He spent the night a lot.

Since her clothes, especially her jeans, were getting way too tight to keep wearing, Raven was nice enough to take her shopping for some elastic-waist jeans. If she wore a long enough shirt, she figured they’d just look like regular jeans. Not completely unfashionable. She purchased five pairs, plus a few maternity shirts for when her stomach started getting even rounder, then went home that night and pretended to model all the clothes for Bellamy. Of course, he ended up just taking them all _off_ of her, but that was fine with her.

Towards the end of her thirteenth week, Bellamy had an idea for the second and third trimesters. He read something online about taking photos every week in the same pose, same location, to track how much she was growing. So like an amateur photographer, he got her to pose in front of the closed door to her closet, at a side angle with one hand on the underside of her belly, one hand on the top. He snapped the picture on his phone and declared, “Alright, same time, same place next week.”

Bellamy wasn’t only enthusiastic when it came to taking pictures. On Friday, he took the afternoon off work and drove her to Walmart when she mentioned baby shopping. She mainly just wanted to get an idea for how much things were going to cost. Diapers and bottles and clothes, things like that. Her favorite app had noted that it was a good time to start budgeting things out, and she felt like she needed to be saving up to get everything she needed.

Bellamy was at the opposite end of the budgeting spectrum. He wanted to buy things now, so he ended up going nuts over the toys. Clarke left him to browse all sorts of stuffed animals, blocks, and books while she looked at the clothes.

“Okay, I found a few good ones,” he announced as he caught up with her.

Turning around, she felt her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she saw what an armload of toys he’d picked up. “A few?”

He dumped them all into the cart and shrugged. “Might as well just stock up now. And look at this.” He picked up a princess doll and said, “Perfect, huh?”

“What if it’s not a girl?” she pointed out.

“Well, what if it is?” he countered, setting the doll down atop the rest of the stuffed toys. “Are you gonna find out the gender or let it be a surprise?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking through a couple onesies with various sayings on them. “But I guess I should decide.” There was one that said _Here for the Naps_ that looked pretty gender-neutral, so she went ahead and tossed it in the cart. “I think most women find out during their mid-pregnancy ultrasound.”

“And when’s that?” he asked.

“Sixteen to twenty weeks, I think,” she replied. “I mean, I kinda wanna know, just so I know what clothes to get, but . . . I’m not sure.”

“Hmm.” He found a onesie that said _Party at my Crib_ on it and chuckled. “I think it’s gonna be a girl,” he predicted.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just a gut feeling. Hence, the princess doll.”

“And all sorts of other toys,” she pointed out. God, they were going to add up. “Maybe we should put some of these back.”

“No, I want my—your kid to have a lot of toys,” he said.

He’d tried to hide that, she noticed, that little slip of the tongue. But she’d heard it.

“Clarke.” A distraction in the form of Callie Cartwig meant that they didn’t have to linger any longer on the fact that Bellamy had almost just called the baby _his_ kid. Clarke forced a smile as her mom’s friend came up to her and gave her an air kiss on either cheek. “How nice to see you,” she said, and good god, the woman just always sounded so phony.

“Hi, Callie,” she said, surprised to see some dresses and shirts draped over the woman’s arm. “I didn’t know you shopped at Walmart.”

“Oh, not for myself,” Callie quickly said. “These are for a holiday charity I’m helping out with. No, I’d never buy anything for myself from here.”

_Never mind the fact that I am_ , Clarke thought. In her effort to be more financially independent, she couldn’t afford the nicest stores anymore.

“And who is this?” Callie said, giving Bellamy the eye.

“This is Bellamy. Bellamy, this is Callie,” Clarke quickly introduced them, “my mom’s best friend.”

“Hi,” Bellamy said simply.

“Hello.” Callie’s eyes traveled up and down his frame before she returned her attention to Clarke. “Oh, sweetie, I hope you don’t mind me saying anything,” she said quietly, “but I heard about your . . . situation. Your mother told me all about it. It sounds like it’s been kind of rough on the both of you.”

Clarke was a bit taken aback by how scandalous she made it sound. A _situation?_ Really? Just how bad had her mom made it sound? “It . . . wasn’t what I planned,” she admitted. “But I’m adjusting.”

“And the father isn’t in the picture anymore. Is that right?”

“Pretty much.” God, she hated that gossipy tone in Callie’s voice. She wasn’t going to tell her much, because she knew anything she said could be misconstrued and spread around.

“Oh, you poor thing,” the older woman said sympathetically. “But how nice of Bellamy here to help you out with . . . all of this.” She looked down at the cart, then up at him with a bright smile on her face. “That’s a wonderful thing to do for a friend,” she told him. “I’m sure sometimes it’s nice to have a big, strong man around to help you out.” She was even brazen enough to reach out and touch his arm, give his muscles a squeeze.

Bellamy tried to force a smile, but it was more of a grimace.

_Oh, screw this_ , Clarke thought. No way was she just going to stand here and watch this chick manhandle her man. “Okay, first off, he’s half your age,” she informed Callie. “Second, he’s not a friend. He’s my boyfriend. And while my mom might be able to put up with you flirting with Kane, I’m not putting up with this. So Callie, march your thirsty cougar ass up to the counter and go pay for all these clothes you think you’re too good for.”

Callie gasped, bringing one hand to her chest. “Well, I never . . .” She trailed off, obviously offended, and then huffed, spun around, and stomped off in outrage.

_There_ , Clarke thought, watching her go. _Problem handled_.

“Damn, Clarke,” Bellamy said, staring at her in amazement.

“Yeah. I don’t know where that came from.” Usually when people annoyed her, she was better about biting her tongue.

“It doesn’t take much to set you off right now,” Bellamy noted.

“It really doesn’t.” She cupped her stomach, sort of enjoying the lack of a filter she’d just had. “The baby empowered me. I’ve been wanting to say something to that bitch for years.”

Bellamy grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he said, “I’m really turned on right now.”

“Oh, stop.” She grabbed hold of the cart and pushed it further down the aisle.

“No, I’m serious,” he said, looking all around. “Could we maybe just find a dressing room and--” He stopped short when she grabbed hold of shirt and yanked him forward with her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy had always loved weekends, but now that he was working full-time, he loved them even more. It was nice waking up on Saturday knowing that he didn’t have anywhere to be or much of anything to do. It was even nicer waking up in bed with Clarke, completely naked beneath the covers.

She was still asleep, and he didn’t really feel like getting out of bed yet, so he reached over onto the nightstand, grabbed the remote, and flipped on the TV. It was too loud at first, so he quickly adjusted the volume down and flipped to ESPN. Saturday morning meant College GameDay was on, and he wanted to tune in. Especially since the hosts had traveled to UCF.

They didn’t show much of the campus, but Bellamy could see that plenty of impassioned fans had turned out for the event. The team was on a winning streak, and there was even talk of them sneaking into the playoff if a couple of the power five conference champs ended up being two-loss teams. Of course, the Knights would have to remain undefeated to even have a shot at it, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility at this point.

Just lying there in bed, propped up against the headboard, Bellamy watched in interest whatever GameDay ran on TV. An interview with the coach of one school, a sit-down with a quarterback from another. And in between each segment, they once again showed the raucous crowd of fans at UCF, holding up signs and banners and flags and yelling their heads off hours before the game was even set to begin.

It kind of a stung a bit, knowing that no one would ever cheer him on like that again. It wasn’t that he missed UCF, because he didn’t. He just missed the game.

****

_“Thirty seconds left to play.”_

Thanks for reminding me, _Bellamy thought bitterly, even though the announcer was just doing his job. Thirty seconds, and they were a little over halfway down the field. A touchdown would win it. A field goal would tie it._

_Screw the field goal. They were getting a touchdown. It’d been a long game, definitely a semi-final match that had lived up to the hype. His guys were tired. Hell,_ he _was tired. They weren’t sending this into overtime._

_His center hiked the ball to him, and his receivers ran their routes. Despite being double-teamed for most of the night, Zeke managed to confuse one of his defenders and got open long enough for Bellamy to toss him the ball. He caught it easily and ran out of bounds._

_“Quick pass to Shaw gives them the first down,” the announcer said while the crowd cheered. “Clock stops to move the chains.”_

_Bellamy checked the time on the scoreboard. Five more seconds gone. Time to make it happen. A couple more short passes to get them down in the end zone, and then he or Miller could punch it in. They didn’t even need to huddle up as they waited for the down markers to be reset. They all knew the game plan, and they knew how to execute._

_He heard a “Let’s go, Bellamy!” ring out from the track, and he knew it was Clarke. It was freezing outside tonight, so she and all the other cheerleaders had bundled up in jackets and warm-up pants. She still had the face paint on her cheek, though, just like a lot of other people in the stands._

_“Which one’s your bitch, Blake?” one of the opposing team’s defensive lineman started to taunt him. “Blonde one, isn’t it?”_

_Bellamy backed up a bit, trying to ignore him._

_“Yeah, she’s a piece,” the guy went on. “Can’t wait to tear her pussy up when this is over.”_

Dammit, _he thought, wishing he could throw a punch and just knock this motherfucker on his ass. But doing that wouldn’t only draw a penalty, it’d get him expelled from the game. So he had to act unfazed._

_“I’m gonna fuck you up in this game, fuck her up after.”_

_He knew that guy was just trying to rattle his cage, but it wasn’t gonna work. Not in a game so big, a game he’d worked so hard for._

_His muscles ached with the strain of four hard-fought quarters as he got back under center and crouched down to receive the snap. It wasn’t a particularly good snap, and he barely got control of it. Unfortunately, that screwed up the whole play. He was supposed to drop back and pass, but he ended up sideways, too close to the left tackle. The same guy who’d been taunting him. He found an opening in the offensive line and charged right at Bellamy. Despite trying to scramble away, Bellamy couldn’t escape the hit. With a jolt, he felt the impact of a huge body thrown against his, and then he felt himself hit the ground._

_“And Blake is sacked!” the announcer boomed as the Rockets half of the bleachers all yelled, probably wanting an unnecessary roughness call. “Hard hit from number seventy-four of the defense.”_

_Bellamy just lay there, his head spinning._ I got sacked, _he registered. It happened every game, but this one was especially painful. Everything got sort of muffled for a minute, but he was sure the crowd had gone silent anyway._

_Faintly, he heard the announcer say, “Timeout for an injured player.”_

Injured? _he worried_. No, I can’t be injured. _He tried to lift his head up, but it just felt heavy._

_“Bellamy, stay down,” he heard Miller say._

_“No.” He couldn’t stay down. They needed him. That sack put them out of field goal range. He had to get up and get them to the end zone._

_“You just got rocked, man. Don’t move.”_

_“I’m fine,” he insisted, but he must not have looked fine, because the trainer broke through the crowd of guys around him and knelt down beside him._

_“Hey, Bellamy, look at me,” the trainer said. “How many fingers am I holdin’ up?”_

_“Two.” Bellamy managed to lift his torso and prop himself up on his arms. Nothing felt broken, but everything hurt._

_“Can you stand?” the trainer asked him._

_“Yeah.” With a little help from his teammates, he got to his feet, wincing. His left shoulder hurt like a bitch, but that wasn’t his throwing arm. He could make do._

_“I’m alright,” he told the trainer. It was then that he noticed his head coach right there, too, doing his own evaluation. He could read the grim look on his coach’s face, the unhappy expression in his eyes, and he knew what was about to happen. He was about to get benched. “No, would you listen to me? I’m alright,” he insisted._

_But his coach wasn’t having it. “Come on,” he said, motioning him over to the sideline._

No, _Bellamy thought, giving him a pleading look._ Don’t do this to me.

_His legs were shaky and felt like they could give out as he walked, with some help from the trainer, over to the sideline. Everyone clapped for him, home fans and fans of the other team alike. But he had a feeling the other team’s fans were relieved to see him take such a hard hit and hobble off the field._

_Miller called to him, “Don’t worry, man. We got this,” and then put his mouth guard back in._

You’d better, _Bellamy thought. Their whole season came down to these last twenty-five seconds. He’d never imagined sitting on the sideline for the end of the semi-final game._

_The backup trotted out to the field as the announcer said, “Let’s hope the young man’s okay. Evans comes in as backup. Twenty-five seconds left to play.”_

_Bellamy sat down and got some water, but swallowing hurt. In fact, even breathing kind of hurt a little bit, but he wasn’t about to mention that to anyone. That probably meant he had some bruised ribs or something, but he could deal with that after the championship game. If they got there._

_He watched his team run the play they’d had in mind, except it didn’t go as planned. Evans got sacked, too, not as hard as Bellamy had, but still enough to move the ball in the wrong direction. “Loss of three on the play,” the announcer said. “Clock keeps running.”_

Hurry up, _Bellamy thought, his heart pounding as he watched his guys scramble to get back in formation. They went for a quick snap on third down, and the backup handed it off to Miller. Miller dashed forward, but only for a couple yards. Maybe five. Not enough for the first down. Coach called their last time out with nine seconds left in the game, and all the guys came over to the sideline. They didn’t look pumped up; they looked like they’d already lost._

_“Field goal unit,” their coach decided._

_Bellamy shot to his feet. “No, coach, let me back in!” he spat. “I’m fine. I can do this.”_

_The coach shook his head doubtfully. “You can’t even run.”_

_“I can if I have to. Please!” he begged. “You know the kick’s a long-shot. Give me a chance.”_

_Their whole massive huddle was silent as the coach looked him over and mentally debated his options. Bellamy held his breath until he heard, “Alright, everybody listen up!” And that was how he knew he was back in the game._

_He felt like he was in some scene straight out of a sports movie as he made his way back onto the field to a thunderous roar of excitement from the Rockets fans. He felt like everything just slowed down and got very still. He glanced into the stands, locating his mom and his little sister. Octavia was hiding her eyes, couldn’t even watch, and his mom had her hands clasped together and looked like she was praying._

_His eyes found Clarke next, standing on the sideline ruffling her pom poms together. She smiled at him, and he felt a surge of energy, one that transcended all the pain he was in. In that moment, he felt like he could do anything._

_It was a good snap from his center this time, one that he had no problem holding onto. The offensive line guarded him well, giving him time to scan his receivers and locate an open one. But Zeke was covered. Dax was covered. Everyone he felt confident throwing to was covered and couldn’t get open. He kept his feet moving, did a few fake pumps, but when the same tackle who had sacked him broke free and came at him again, he just ran. Tucking the ball in to his side, he found an opening. It was just a small one, but he slipped through and broke past the defensive line. Everyone pursued him or tried to close in on him, but he kept his legs moving. One of the defenders in the secondary got a hold of him, but he managed to spin out of it and keep going. Suddenly, there was nothing but open field in front of him, so he tried to run faster. Harder. Until there was only the end zone, and he was crossing into it._

_Everyone screamed. The crowd shot to their feet and went wild, and he spiked the ball and threw his hands in the air, victorious. Exhausted, he fell down on the turf, struggling to catch his breath and comprehend what had just happened. They’d won. They’d won the fucking game._

_“Blake with the touchdown as time runs out!” the announcer blared. Even though he was supposed to be a neutral observer, he sounded excited for them. “Rockets win and advance to the finals!”_

The finals. _He could barely think, but those words came through._ We made it to the finals.

_His teammates and coaches all ran to him and helped him up, even though he was in pain and kind of just wanted to stay down. He wasn’t sure who took off his helmet for him and who was patting him on the back so incessantly, but everyone was shouting and laughing and jumping up and down. And when he looked at the bleachers, he saw some fans, including some of the young ones with his name and number on their faces, spilling over the railings and racing onto the field._

_He really didn’t care whether it was his sister, his mother, or his girlfriend who he hugged first, but he had to hug one of them._

_“Bellamy!”_

_He followed the familiar sound of Clarke’s voice through the crowd. It was such chaos that he could barely get to her, but somehow, he did. And he didn’t waste time trying to say anything. Words felt impossible. He just kissed her, not sure she could ever understand how much it meant to him to have her there for this, to experience this moment with him. This game, this girl . . ._

_It was the best night of his life._

****

Next to him, Clarke began to move, and Bellamy turned down the volume on the TV a little bit more. It didn’t make a difference, though, because she still opened her eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said.

“No, it’s alright. I feel like I have to pee anyway.”

“Imagine that.”

She let out a big yawn, then smiled at him and laughed. “Your hair’s everywhere.”

“So is yours.” It was kind of just a mass on top of her head right now because she’d moved around a lot in the night. “You still look good, though.”

“Mmm, so do you,” she purred, closing her eyes and puckering her lips. He gave her a kiss, but since she didn’t seem to be in _that_ big of a hurry to get to the bathroom, he didn’t stop at just one. In fact, he slithered his hands beneath the blankets and pulled her body in close to his, feeling like he might be able to get a little early morning lovin’.

Unfortunately, just as things were starting to heat up, the bedroom door swung open, and in came her mom, jabbering, “Clarke, we need to--”

“Oh my god, Mom!” Clarke shrieked, pulling the sheets all the way up to her neck. “What’re you doing here?”

_Shit_ , Bellamy thought, checking to make sure he was covered. They were clearly naked, and there would be no mistaking that, but at least only his chest was exposed.

“I’m sorry,” her mom said, shielding her eyes. “I didn’t know you were . . .” Backing out of the room, she pulled the door shut, and he heard her repeat, “I’m sorry,” even after it was closed. Then she trundled downstairs.

“Great,” Clarke said. “This is great. Now she knows that we’re together again.”

“Well, at least we weren’t actually fucking,” he said, trying to look on the bright side. “That’d be even worse.”

“This is bad enough,” she groaned, flinging the covers aside. She got up and declared, “Okay, I have to . . . make myself presentable,” and then darted into the bathroom.

“And what am I supposed to do?” he said, but the only response he got was the slamming of the door. “Clarke?” He lay there, pitching a tent beneath the sheets, feeling like he was going to have to rub one out before he headed downstairs to see Abby. He couldn’t very well go talk to her with a hard-on, could he?

Fortunately, the mere thought that Clarke’s mom had just walked in on them was enough to settle him down, and he didn’t even end up having to jack off. He got dressed, ran a comb through his hair since Clarke had said it looked ridiculous, and then . . . noticed that he had a hickey on the side of his neck. Not a very noticeable one, but it was definitely there. _Clarke_ had given _him_ a hickey. Usually that happened the other way around, but . . . well, she’d been on top last night, and he’d sort of just laid there and let her do her thing.

Clarke’s makeup was way too light to do any concealing on his skin, so he just headed downstairs and hoped her mom wouldn’t notice it.

“Didn’t hear you come in,” he said as he stepped off the bottom stair.

“I rang the doorbell,” she said. It looked like she was just pacing around the living room with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I was kinda spacing out,” he admitted.

Abby grunted. “Clearly.” She sighed heavily, looking out the back glass doors at the ocean. “Clarke didn’t tell me you two were . . . back together,” she said. “She said you were just friends.”

“Yeah, we . . . we tried that.” He wasn’t about to go into detail and reveal that they’d ended up sleeping together four times without even technically being back together, but . . . yeah. They’d done that.

“I knew this was gonna happen,” she said, turning to face him. “Right when I heard you were back in town, I just _knew_ . . .” Trailing off, she shook her head.

“Well, hey, it’s not like it’s a bad thing,” he pointed out, stepping around the coffee table so he could sit on the arm of the couch. “I know I’ve never been your favorite person, but . . . Clarke could do worse.”

“Oh, it’s not that I have anything against you, Bellamy,” she assured him quickly. “It’s just . . . I’m not sure if you know what you’re getting yourself into here.”

This was a complete one-eighty from his mom, who’d been all happy for him and proud of him. This was a shitload of skepticism, and it was hard to be patient with that. “I know exactly what I’m getting into,” he insisted. “I know that Clarke has an appointment next week with that doctor you recommended. Doctor Jackson. I’m going with her.”

Abby’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

“And I know we’ve got at least another week until the results of the genetic testing come back,” he went on, feeling like he could really make his point, “so I’m trying to keep her mind on other things so she won’t worry. I know what toys she’s got for the baby so far, because I picked ‘em all out. So yeah. I know what I’m getting into.”

Still, despite all that, her mom didn’t seem convinced. “You say that now,” she said, “but you might feel differently when you’re awake in the middle of the night with a baby that won’t stop crying, or when you’re barely scraping by financially because you didn’t anticipate how expensive a newborn would be.”

What did she think he was, a moron or something? He knew babies were expensive, and he knew babies were tiring. When he’d been in kindergarten, he’d already been helping his mom with Octavia. That didn’t make him an expert by any means, but it gave him a foundation to work from.

“It seems like you just wanna swoop in and play the knight in shining armor for Clarke when she’s needy,” Abby continued, “which she is right now. Very much so. Very needy. And I just worry that, when push comes to shove, you’ll change your mind about all of this. Going out and partying might start to sound a lot more fun than--”

“I’ve been partying for the past five years,” he cut in, growingly increasingly frustrated with this conversation. “I’m over it.”

“And now you’re just magically ready to settle down?” she challenged. “With a baby? You can’t blame me for having my doubts.”

She could doubt him all she wanted—he was pretty much used to that—but dammit, just this once, he wished she wouldn’t.

“What’s going on down here?” Clarke asked as she came downstairs. She was wearing some of her elastic-waist jeans, but she had on a long sweater that covered up the waistband and made them look normal. She’d combed and straightened her hair and put on a little makeup now, too.

“Nothing,” Bellamy said, feeling like it was best to keep whatever issues he and her mom were having between the two of them. “Your mom and I were just . . . talking.”

“Yes,” Abby agreed, and she, too, seemed more than willing not to divulge what they’d been talking about.

“Good,” Clarke said. “Um, well, do you maybe want some breakfast?”

Bellamy really didn’t want her to stay, and if she did, he was already thinking up an excuse to get out of there. But much to his relief, Abby said, “No, thanks, I already ate.”

_So you can leave then_ , Bellamy thought. He actually didn’t dislike Abby as much as Abby disliked him, but he needed some space from her right now. Some of the things she’d said had just downright pissed him off.

“I was actually just coming by to talk to you about what you said to Callie yesterday,” Clarke’s mom said, giving her a stern look. “She called me last night, practically in tears.”

“Crocodile tears, Mom. She’s not that upset.”

_The woman from Walmart_ , Bellamy realized. She probably would have felt him up if Clarke hadn’t said something.

“Still, maybe you should call her and apologize,” Abby suggested.

“Hmm . . . hard pass.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but smirk. Yeah, that woman didn’t really deserve an apology.

“Clarke.” There was a scolding tone to her mother’s voice. “This isn’t how we treat our friends.”

“She’s your friend, Mom, not mine,” Clarke reminded her. Grabbing her keys off the counter, she said, “Come on, Bellamy. Let’s go get breakfast. I’m starving.”

“She’s starving,” Bellamy said, glad to have an escape. He followed her out the door, relieved that Abby didn’t follow or try to invite herself along. Sure, she’d probably snoop around the house and find some of his clothes stashed into drawers and hanging in the closet. She’d see his toothbrush and his razor in the bathroom. She’d know that he’d been spending a lot of time there lately. _Oh, well_ , he thought. _Let her figure it out._

He and Clarke ended up at the café across the street from Eligius. Just the typical small-town place that served breakfast all day and hosted Bingo night on Fridays. Bellamy only felt hungry enough for two scrambled eggs and pancakes, but Clarke got a whole fucking omelet, hash browns, and toast. She ate pretty fast but still managed to vent in the process.

“And what even was that? _‘This isn’t how we treat our friends,_ ’” she ranted, mimicking Abby. “Condescending much? God, I’ll tell you, at the end of the day, I do love my mom, but sometimes . . .” She gripped her glass of orange juice so hard, he thought she might break it. “Oh, well, though. I’d rather she say that kind of stuff to me than you.”

Bellamy held her gaze a bit too long, then looked down at his plate as he tried to figure out how he was going to finish this last pancake.

“Oh, no, she said something to you, too, didn’t she?” Clarke realized. “What was it?”

He didn’t want to bother her even further with it, so he tried to dismiss it as no big deal. “It’s nothing.”

“Just tell me,” she pressed. “I wanna know.”

Yeah, she said that now, but once he told her, it was just gonna upset her even more. He couldn’t very well lie to her about it, though, so he went ahead and told the truth. “She said she doesn’t think I’m in it for the long-haul with you. She thinks I’m gonna change my mind.” It left a bitter taste in his mouth just saying those words.

“Oh god, Bellamy . . .”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I expected it.” There were gonna be a lot of doubters and skeptics, so he was just gonna have to prove them wrong.

“No, you shouldn’t have to deal with that,” she said. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

“No, I don’t want you fighting with her just ‘cause of me.” Chances were, an argument with her daughter would just make Abby dislike him even more. “I’ll win her over in time,” he promised, wishing he felt a little more confident about that.

“She’s known you for six years,” she pointed out. “How much more time does she need?”

“Just . . . don’t worry about it,” he reiterated. “By the time this baby’s born, she’ll be a full-on Bellamy Blake stan. I guarantee it.”

“I hope so,” she said, pouting. Pushing her now empty plate aside, she eyed his longingly, sighed, and then asked, “Can I have the rest of your food?”

He smirked, amused by her enormous appetite, and slid what was left of his breakfast across the table so she could indulge.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke had actually forgotten that she was scheduled to work until a reminder on her phone alerted her to that fact. She showed up at the bar about ten minutes late, but it didn’t really matter, because Diyoza wasn’t there. It was a lazy afternoon shift for a while, until around 5:00 when it started to pick up. Saturday nights got busy, but there were pros and cons to ending up with a lot of customers in there. Being busy surely made the time go faster, but it was hell on her feet, and her back felt kind of cramped up, too.

Raven showed up right as it was getting dark out, marched up to the bar, and blurted out, “Your mom called me.”

“What?” Clarke groaned. “Are you serious?” She never did that unless she wanted dirt on something.

“Yeah. Wanted to know how long you and Bellamy had been back together.”

_Figures_ , Clarke grumbled inwardly. “What’d you tell her?” she asked.

Raven shrugged. “The truth. That it’s been about a week, but it all seemed sort of inevitable.”

“She’s getting on my last nerve right now,” Clarke admitted. “Oh, and you know who else is pissing me off? My dad. Now that I’m pregnant, he’s decided that he wants me to spend the holidays with him. Thanksgiving _and_ Christmas.”

“Well, it might be a break from your mom,” Raven noted.

“Oh, no, it won’t be, because his girlfriend would be there. _Alyssa_.” She rolled her eyes, wishing it was easier to be a little less judgmental of the girl. But really, what interest could someone that young and beautiful possibly have in her father besides money? “Have you seen Alyssa? Have I showed you a picture of her?”

“No.”

“Here.” She whipped out her phone, found an Instagram picture for Raven to look at, and anticipated the obvious reaction.

“Holy shit,” Raven swore in astonishment, “she looks like she could be your sister.”

“I know, right?” How old was she again? Thirty-three? Yeah, definitely still young enough to be related.

“You need to go home and de-stress,” her friend said, walking around the bar.

“I can’t,” Clarke said. “My boss is out of town, so it’s just me and one other girl.”

“I got this.” Raven untied the apron from around Clarke’s waist and put it around her own instead. “Go home,” she instructed. “Lie down. Or get laid. Whichever.”

Since Raven Reyes was pretty much good at everything, Clarke felt comfortable leaving her shift in her hands. “Thank you, Raven,” she said gratefully. “You’re the best.”

Raven grinned. “I’ve often thought so.”

Clarke headed straight home, happy to be out of there. When she got to her house, things got even better, because Bellamy was waiting for her, sitting outside on the porch.

“You are _exactly_ what I needed to see right now,” she said, walking up to the steps. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Just fifteen minutes,” he said, standing up. They must have been fifteen chilly minutes, though, because he had to blow on his hands to warm them up. “Raven called and told me you were on your way home.”

So he’d come straight here? She felt so spoiled. A best friend and a boyfriend who wanted to look after her? Awesome. “Well, this is perfect,” she said, unlocking and opening the door, “because I actually have something for you.”

“A gift?” he said, following her inside. “Lap-dancing? I’d be very happy with lap-dancing.”

“No.” She set her purse down on the recliner and headed into the kitchen to rummage around her junk drawer for the small, silver key she’d stashed there the other day. “Here,” she said, holding it out for him. She’d meant to give it to him last night, but . . . well, sex had quickly become the priority.

“It’s a key,” he said.

“To this house,” she said. “A key to my house. Now you don’t have to wait outside if I’m not home.”

“That’s handy,” he said, clasping his hand around it. “And, uh . . . pretty official.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, feeling like it was a good logical step in their relationship. “Well, I just figured . . . you’re spending a lot of time here anyway. You might as well be able to come and go as you please.”

His eyebrows arched, and he gave her a suggestive look.

“Not _that_ kind of coming, Bellamy.”

“No?” He chuckled and took his own key clump out of his pocket to hook that new on onto the ring. “Well, thank you,” he said. “This is cool. I’ve never actually had a key to a girl’s place before.” He jingled the whole key ring and smiled.

“Well, you know . . . you’ve always had the key to something,” she said, trying to be all sultry and seductive as she swayed in close to him, snaking her hands up his chest.

Pocketing the keys again, he inquired, “And what’s that?”

“My heart.” She shut her eyes and cringed right after the words left her mouth.

“Oh, Clarke, that was so cheesy,” he said, laughing.

“I know. I was gonna try to make it dirty, but ‘key to my pussy’ just sounded weird.”

His eyes lit up with mischief. “I do have the key to that, though, too, right?” he asked.

“Well, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He slipped one hand in between them and touched her through her sweatpants, which were still more comfortable than even the elastic-waist jeans. “And nobody else does.”

“Nobody,” she confirmed, stepping out to the sides, eager to let him feel her up.

“Maybe I should unlock it then,” he said, playing up the metaphor as he untied her pants and started to push them down.

Giggling, she helped him get them off of her and looked around for something to lean back against while he went down on her. Whether it would morph into full-on sex or not was up in the air, but she knew she’d love whatever he gave her. Bellamy had always been focused on _her_ pleasure over his own, but now more so than ever, it seemed like making her feel good was his top priority.


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter 24_

When Bellamy got home the next morning, his mom looked like she was getting ready to leave. She often roamed around in the morning with a burnt piece of toast stuck in her mouth, gathering up any bills she needed to put in the mailbox and getting dressed while she ate. This morning, though, she took the toast out, stopped what she was doing, and gave him a teasing look. “Should I just rent out your room to drifters?” she asked. “You’re hardly ever here anymore.”

“That’s not true,” he denied, hanging his coat up in the closet. “I was home . . . a couple nights ago.”

“Four nights,” she said.

Had it really been that long? Huh. Time sure flew when he was . . . having fun.

“It’s okay,” she said, putting on her coat. “I don’t blame you for wanting to spend more time with Clarke right now. Are you moving in with her?”

“Gradually,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Look what she gave me.” He whipped out his keys and held up the one to her house, unable to help beaming with pride like a total spaz.

“That’s exciting,” his mom said with a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, setting his clump of keys down on the kitchen counter. “What do we have for cereal?” he asked, rummaging around on top of the refrigerator.

“Nothing good,” his mom replied.

“I don’t care. I’m starving.” He grabbed a box of Lucky Charms and shrugged. That shit was pure sugar, but it would do.

“Did you get enough to eat last night?” his mom asked him.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, having to look away when he couldn’t suppress a mischievous grin. Clarke had let him go down on her twice. But she’d been complaining about feeling uncomfortable this morning, so . . . no sex for breakfast.

“Well, help yourself,” his mother urged. “I’m already late for work, so I’d better head out.” She started for the door, then turned back around and said, “Oh, almost forgot.” She slid one envelope out of the pile of envelopes in her hand. “This came for you,” she said, handing it to him.

Curiously, he took it. “What is it?” He never got mail.

“I have no idea,” she said. “I’ll see you later.” On her way out the door, she tacked on, “Maybe,” with a knowing grin.

He chuckled, not sure he’d be home at all tonight. The plan was to head straight over to Clarke’s after work.

Momentarily, he forgot about the cereal he planned to shovel down and opened the envelope in his hand. It was a school envelope, he noticed. Hadn’t gotten one of those in years. But back in the day, whenever the school had sent anything home, it usually hadn’t been good. Report cards. Info about parent teacher conferences. Those things had never been particularly great for him. But why the hell would the school send anything to him now? They’d gotten rid of him years ago.

He read the first few lines of the letter, going slowly to make sure he understood what it was saying. And just like old times, it wasn’t saying anything he felt good about.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Whenever Clarke set foot in the Arkadia Youth Center, she was amazed how expansive it had become. What had just been Kane’s “little project” a couple of years ago was a full-blown _facility_ now, and so many kids around town frequented it. Sure, it was aimed at kids who came from rougher backgrounds, like the Finn type, but nowadays, even kids who came from money showed up for tutoring services. Clarke recognized some athletes in there—football players whose season was long done because the team wasn’t any good anymore, and wrestlers and basketball players who were preparing for the start of their season. There was some talk that Arkadia might actually have a good basketball team this year if some of the seniors kept their grades up and didn’t spend so much time on the bench.

“Looks busy,” Clarke remarked to Kane once he finally had a free moment to come talk to her. He was sort of like a traffic director, it seemed, except his job was to direct available tutors to open students.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Please tell me you’re here to help.”

“I can, if you need me.” She considered herself a pretty well-rounded student, so she felt like she could help in most subjects.

“I do,” he said. “Every one of these kids could use some tutelage from a valedictorian.”

“Well . . . salutatorian,” she grumbled, still a bit pissed that she’d just barely missed the top spot in her graduating class. “Wells Jaha beat me.”

“Ah, yes, the Jahas,” he said. “They are very academically-driven.”

“Probably didn’t help that I got an A- the year I was dating Bellamy,” she said. “I got kind of distracted with . . . well, dating Bellamy.”

Kane laughed lightly. “Well, yes, we’ll still take your help around here,” he said. “A- and everything.”

“Can I talk to you about something first, though?” she asked. As willing as she was to tutor, that wasn’t the reason she’d stopped by.

“Sure,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Kind of. It’s just . . . my mom,” she said, making a face. “She’s being a total bitch to Bellamy.”

“Oh, Clarke . . .” He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from some of the younger students. She really hoped the little girl at the closest table hadn’t heard her swear.

“What all has she told you about me and him?” Clarke asked Kane. She was curious what, if anything, her mom had told him.

“Just that the two of you had a very intense relationship back when you were sixteen,” Kane answered. “She said she always felt pretty nervous about it, but she tried to support you as best she could.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at that nice, sugarcoated version. “She’s never really been all that nice to him,” she said. “And now that he and I are back together, she’s being _super_ judgmental.”

“Because . . .” Kane said leadingly.

“Because I’m pregnant, and she doesn’t think Bellamy’s really gonna wanna be with me once the baby’s born,” she said, talking a mile a minute as the anger started to take over. “Like, I get that people are gonna be skeptical. I’m pretty much anticipating that. But she has no right to say something like that to _him_. It’s rude. It’s rude, and it just—it _pisses me off_ , Kane, and you do not wanna see me get pissed off right now.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” he said calmly. “And she doesn’t, either. I’ll talk to her.”

“Will you?” If anyone could get her mom to calm down about things, it was this man.

“Yes,” he said. “No guarantees she’ll change her tune, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” she said. Hopefully, if her mom just vented things to him, then he’d talk some sense into her, and she’d own up to her rudeness and apologize to Bellamy. That was all she wanted.

Pushing the mom stuff out of her mind, Clarke looked around and asked, “So who do I need to go tutor?” There was a middle school kid with an open science textbook sitting at one of the corner tables. Science was kind of her forte given what she was majoring in.

“How about Connor?” Kane suggested. “He’s the kid eating his math assignment.”

Clarke followed her eyes and cringed as she watched a chubby little boy tear a page out of his workbook, crumple it up, and shove it in his mouth. Did he think that was going to work as an excuse for not having it done? Kids like that just confused the hell out of her and made her hope that her own kid was easier to understand.

It ended up taking an hour to get Connor though one math assignment. Twelve problems. Basic addition and subtraction. He was an ornery kid, but at least his teacher anticipated that he’d do something to get rid of his assignment, because she’d made a copy of the page and stashed it in his very messy backpack. Clarke sat with him and tried her best to be patient and redirect him whenever he became unfocused. Which was often. He was more interested in telling her about his Pokémon cards than he was in doing math. But they slaved away and got through it at long last. Clarke tried to get him to put it away in his backpack neatly, but he just shoved it in there carelessly. It was doubtful he’d be able to find it when it was time to hand it in tomorrow.

After tutoring, she went over to Raven and Murphy’s for a while. She’d stupidly agreed to take part in some dumb skit Murphy was filming for his channel. There was a script, but it was impossible to follow, so Murphy ended up just scrapping it halfway through. She and Raven were starving after that, so they went out and got a food while Murphy filmed an episode reaction to some new show he was watching.

It was late when she ended up getting home, but she was delighted to see Bellamy’s car parked out front. The lights were all on, and when she walked inside, he was sitting on the couch, using her laptop for something.

“Ooh, I like getting home and having my boyfriend here,” she said, leaning down over the back of the couch. “Giving you a key was a good idea.”

He turned his head to the side and gave her a quick kiss. “How was your day?” he asked her.

“Good,” she said, taking her jacket over to the coat closet. “I cried a little.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about how I could find out the gender of the baby soon, and I started crying.” She shrugged, shutting the closet door, and put one hand on her little bump as she treaded back into the living room.

“That happens, huh?”

“It’s started happening.” Spontaneous bursts of emotion were a pain in the ass to deal with. “Fun, right?”

“We’ll manage,” he said, his eyes returning to the computer screen. His fingers started clicking away, not super rapidly because Bellamy still used the hunt and peck method for the most part, but he was definitely typing something.

“What’re you working on?” she asked.

His answer surprised her: “A speech.”

She seemed to recall him telling her once that he’d improvised all his speeches in speech and debate class, and that he’d aced every single one of them. “For what?” she questioned, not sure what he’d need to sit down and actually type something out for.

“Read the letter on the counter,” he told her.

She looked into the kitchen and spied a small stack of mail, hers, but there was a letter off to the side addressed to him. When she took it out of the envelope and read it, her mouth dropped open. “Oh my god, Bellamy,” she gasped, skimming the first paragraph again to make sure she’d read it right. “They’re inducting you into the Rocket Athletic Hall of Fame?”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even stop typing.

“That’s awesome!” she exclaimed. “When is it?”

“End of the week,” he replied. “Nice of them to give me such advanced notice, huh?”

“Do you have something going on?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Well, what if I _did_ have something going on?” he said, sounding more perturbed than he did excited. “They should’ve let me know sooner.”

“Oh, well,” she said. “We’ll go. We’ll have a good time.” This would be so much better than those charity events at the hospital were. Not that she had anything against charity. It was just nice that the school was celebrating Bellamy in this way.

“Oh, there’s more, too,” he said. “Keep reading.”

She started to read the next paragraph, mumbling bits and phrases of it out loud. “ _Officially retire your_ . . .” She trailed off, her chest swelling with pride. “Bellamy. They’re retiring your jersey?” She was pretty sure that had never happened for a Rocket football player, and she only recalled a few retired jerseys hanging up in the gym, one for a volleyball player, the other for a basketball player back when men’s basketball shorts had been way too short. “That’s incredible,” she said. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. But for some reason, he didn’t sound too excited.

“Is that what you’re writing the speech for?” she asked.

“Yep. It’s crap.” He pressed the backspace button and started deleting line after line.

“I’m sure it’s not,” she said, figuring that the speech-writing aspect of all of this was what was frustrating him. “You’re so good at public speaking.”

“Not this kind.” He exited out of the whole document without saving, closed the computer, and set it on the coffee table. “I’m kinda tired,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll be upstairs.”

She watched him trudge up the staircase, looking like all the energy had just been drained out of him. She didn’t quite understand why. Had work been hard? Was this speech bothering him that much? Something just felt off about him. He wasn’t being as attentive as he usually was, and . . . why wasn’t he happier? This whole Hall of Fame thing was good news. So why did she feel like she was more excited about it than he was?

If Bellamy wasn’t going to stay awake for anything, then there was no point in her trying to stay awake, either. She stayed up a little later than he did, searching up some info about the Hall of Fame banquet on the school’s Facebook page. They had pictures from last year’s, where they’d inducted a former wrestling coach, and everyone in attendance was dressed in fancy clothing. That meant she’d have to try on her dresses, see if anything still fit right now or else go buy something new. She didn’t want to wear something that emphasized her baby bump _at all_. Even though a lot of people knew by now, she didn’t want to take any attention away from Bellamy. It was his night, whether he wanted it to be or not.

When she came out of the bathroom that night after brushing her teeth and flossing, she stopped in the doorway and watched as Bellamy slept. Or at least she thought he was sleeping. Maybe not, because he wasn’t snoring yet. But he was flat on his back, one arm above his head, eyes closed, so if nothing else, he was _trying_ to nod off. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the TV on.

She looked at him now, this grown man with his beard and even bigger muscles than he’d had back in high school, and she felt like . . . like he deserved this honor that the school was giving him. In fact, a couple years ago, she was pretty sure he would have welcomed it.

****

_The fight song ended with the rousing chant of, “Go Big Green! Go Big Green! Go Big Green! Go Big Green!” and Clarke did her bounciest, sharpest cheerleader motions in time with the words. She and Raven stood side by side in the front line of the formation, eyeing each other competitively. They had a little friendly rivalry going to see which of them could be the loudest at this pep rally, kick the highest, smile the biggest, and so on and so forth. The rivalry really served no purpose other than to pump the crowd up. Not that they_ needed _to be pumped up. The state finals game was all anyone had been able to talk about the whole week._

_As the captain, Raven took to the microphone and said, “Let’s hear it for our Rocket football team!” once the noise had died down. But that, of course, brought it all back up again. The middle school kids, grades six through eight, had gotten to attend this pep rally, too, and they were little hooligans, screaming and cheering at the top of their lungs. Clarke wasn’t sure if they were actually going to the game or if they were just happy to get out of class for the last twenty minutes of the day, but either way, their energy was explosive._

_Raven invited the entire team down to the gym floor, and while the cheerleaders were prepared to stand behind them, Zeke slid his arm around Raven’s waist, and Bellamy came to stand beside Clarke, too._ We must look so all-American, _she thought_. Him in his jersey, me in my uniform . . .

_“Congrats on an amazing season, you guys,” Raven said, talking over the noise. “We’re gonna let your coach have the microphone first to say a few words.”_

_“Thank you, Raven,” the coach said, taking the mic from her. “Although I’m sure all these guys are tired of hearing me talk.”_

_That got a laugh out of everyone, and some vigorous nods from certain members of the team. While the coach started in praising the team and talking about all the hard work they’d put in this season, Bellamy looked at Clarke and quietly said, “You look really hot when you dance.”_

_“I missed a kick because I was too busy looking at you,” she said._

_“Didn’t mean to mess you up.” He grinned._

_God, that smile of his should have been illegal. It always made her feel weak in the knees. “Focus on the pep rally, Bellamy,” she urged him. His mom had taken off work to be there and everything. “It’s for you.”_

_Clearly he just wasn’t focused, though, because his eyes kept looking her up and down, and finally he just bent down and whispered in her ear, “I just wanna fuck you right now, you know that?”_

Oh my god, _she thought as a tingle zipped up her spine. After this pep rally and before practice, they were going to have to find some place to . . . do something. Maybe she could just give him a quick blow-job or something. She wasn’t opposed to that._

_“But I think the guys could talk about that better than I could,” the coach finished up. “Who wants the mic?”_

_“Bellamy,” the rest of the team said, stepping out of the way._

_“What?” Bellamy’s head snapped up. He hadn’t heard a word of what his coach had said. The rest of the team passed the microphone down to him, and although he grumbled, “Why do you guys make me talk?” Clarke didn’t doubt that he’d do fine._

_“Because you love the sound of your own voice,” Miller teased._

_Bellamy laughed into the microphone and quietly admitted, “I do like the sound of my voice.”_

So do I, _Clarke thought. It was so deep and gruff. Some of the guys in high school were still waiting for their voices to drop—they were_ that _immature still. But Bellamy sounded like a man._

_“Alright, I’m gonna keep this short, just like I do in the huddle,” he said. “The expectations for this season were set pretty high, and we all knew it. So from the first day of practice onward, we’ve trained harder than ever before, and now we’re playing better than ever before. It’s no coincidence. We put in the work, and we’re gettin’ the results, and tomorrow night, we’re gonna get you guys a state championship.”_

_The crowd erupted with noise. Clarke clapped, already planning on being at the school on Sunday night to decorate the boys’ lockers in celebration._

_“Now I wanna see all of you at the game,” Bellamy went on. “Not just the high schoolers, but you younger ones, too, alright?” He pointed to the middle schoolers. “‘cause you guys are the future football players and the future cheerleaders and the future everything in this school. Someday you’re gonna be the ones wearing these uniforms, so come on out, cheer us on, and watch us win.”_

_More applause, more cheers. This time, some overtly loud sixth grade got a chant of Bellamy’s name going, and the kids around him joined in. “Bellamy! Bellamy! Bellamy!”_

_He handed the mic back to Raven and said, “Wow,” as he looked over at the kids in amazement. To them, he was like a celebrity. They all looked up to him so much._

_Clarke wrapped her hands around his arm and gave it a proud squeeze. He really was a role model to those kids. He was good with them._

****

Crawling into bed, Clarke nestled against Bellamy, quickly figuring out that he wasn’t at all asleep when he put his arm around her and pulled her in close. “You wanna cuddle, huh?” he said.

“Just for a couple minutes. Then I’m gonna need space.” She would have cuddled with him all night if she could, but lately she just had to move around so much to try to get comfortable that it wasn’t fair to him.

“I’ll take what I can get,” he said, his eyes staying shut.

She put her hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. Although she wasn’t sure whether she should ask about it or not, the words were on the tip of her tongue, so she let them out. “Why aren’t you excited, Bellamy?” she asked quietly.

His expression didn’t change, and his eyes still didn’t open. “Just go to sleep,” he said, even though that wasn’t an answer. That wasn’t an answer at all. In fact, he’d pretty much just ignored the whole question. Why would he do that? Unless . . .

Unless there was something he wasn’t telling her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All week, Clarke had to tread lightly when it came to the Hall of Fame topic. Whenever she mentioned it, Bellamy would just sort of grumble a few things and shut it down by changing the conversation completely. He didn’t let her see his speech and even turned down her offers to practice it with her as a captive audience of one. He claimed he was just going to wing it when the time came, but when Clarke got up to pee in the middle of the night, he tended to be sitting up on his side of the bed, clicking away on the laptop.

Since he didn’t want to talk about it a whole lot, she tried not to bring it up. Personally, she was still excited, though. People at the bar were buzzing about the event, and word had gotten around that she was Bellamy’s girlfriend, so she got to brag him up a lot. It also gave her an excuse to go get a new dress. She ended up choosing a supremely comfortable maxi dress, dark blue from the waist down, white sequins on the short-sleeved top. It disguised her bump and gave her room to breathe and was probably the kind of dress she would have gravitated towards even if she hadn’t been pregnant.

The night of the ceremony, she did her hair all fancy—styles were limited now that it was shorter, but she could pull it back in a low ponytail and keep some loose tendrils curled around her face. Bellamy told her she looked beautiful, and he even used the word glowing. Pregnancy glow was supposedly a real thing, so she happily took the compliment. 

They drove over to his place to pick up his mom and his sister, and on the way to the school, Octavia dominated the conversation with complaints about how slutty and mean the cheerleading squad had become over the years. “I hate cheerleaders,” she growled angrily before touching Clarke’s shoulder and adding, “No offense.”

“I always liked ‘em,” Bellamy said with a shrug.

“You just liked getting to touch their . . . pom poms,” his sister claimed.

“Octavia!” Aurora hissed from the back seat.

“What?” Octavia said innocently. “It’s true.”

“It is,” Clarke confirmed. “But he was always very supportive, too.”

“That’s right,” Bellamy said. “I went to a couple of your competitions. I sat through state.”

“Ten hours of your life you’ll never get back,” Clarke joked.

“Ah, that’s okay.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but Clarke knew he’d enjoyed getting to watch her perform, being the one to cheer her on and support her. Being _her_ cheerleader back in the day.

When they got to the school, the parking lot was already swarming with cars. Bellamy ended up having to parallel park in the bus loading/unloading zone.

“Looks like a lot of people showed up,” his mom remarked.

“Great,” he muttered as he got out of the car. He darted around to Clarke’s side to help her out. Very gentlemanly.

“Thanks,” she said, pulling her white shall tighter around her shoulders. It was chilly out there.

“God, it feels weird being back here,” Octavia said as they headed up the sidewalk towards the activities door entrance.

“You only graduated a couple months ago,” Bellamy pointed out. “How weird can it feel?”

“It feels like a different life,” Octavia insisted.

“I get that,” Clarke told her. A lot changed in between high school and college. A lot.

When they walked inside, Clarke was delighted to see that the whole cafeteria had been transformed into . . . like a banquet room or something. The tables didn’t look like regular lunch tables anymore. They were decorated in fancy tablecloths and had pretty floral centerpieces. The lights had been dimmed, so it wasn’t that usual severe overhead brightness, and the kitchen, which usually served whatever slop the federal government demanded, was now a buffet style walk-through line. Student council members, clad in the same stu-co jackets Clarke remembered wearing her junior and senior year, were serving the food, and it looked _good_. Unsurprisingly, Clarke had shown up with an appetite.

The best part, though, had to be the fact that there was basically a shrine to Bellamy on display up on the stage. Lots of his old football gear, newspaper clippings, and from a distance, Clarke was pretty sure she spotted a few of the drawings she’d done to decorate his locker. Aurora must have held onto all of those things. Surely she’d been the one to provide them, because Bellamy, with his downer attitude about this whole thing, wouldn’t have done that. There was a video slideshow projected up behind his memorabilia, too, showing film of some of his greatest plays. Maybe that was the highlight reel he’d sent out to colleges. Clarke remembered Monty putting together something for him back then.

And of course, there in the center of it all was his jersey, dark green with a number seven on the back. Since the jerseys were worn year after year, they didn’t typically have the player’s last name on the back. But Bellamy’s last name was on the back of this one now, and the whole thing was stretched out inside a thick glass frame, on display for all to see.

“Let’s sit in the back,” Bellamy suggested, already veering in that direction.

“Oh, I think we’re supposed to sit up front,” his mother said, pointing to a table front and center that said _Blake_ on a little sign near the centerpiece. “See, they’ve got a table reserved for us.”

It made sense, Clarke figured, to put the night’s honored guest at the best table, but Bellamy didn’t look too happy about it as they made their way there. It felt like it took forever just to get to their seats, because they kept getting stopped by people who wanted to congratulate him, and to congratulate Aurora by extension. Octavia started to look bored, but Clarke was totally in the moment. She loved having her arm linked with Bellamy’s right now, getting to be the girl by his side tonight. It sort of felt like old times.

“You look so nice,” he told her again after they’d finally managed to sit down.

“So do you,” she said, adjusting his tie for him. “Very dapper.” Bellamy didn’t often wear a suit, but when he did . . . _damn_.

“Yeah, not bad for a rental, huh?” he said, loosening his tie again. He looked around and grabbed a student council kid who was walking around with a tray of drinks. “Hey, is there any alcohol tonight?” he asked.

“It’s a school, Bellamy,” his mother reminded him. “They can’t serve alcohol.”

“Dammit,” he swore. Motioning to the glasses on the tray, he decided, “I’ll take whatever that is then.”

“Me, too,” Clarke said.

“All of us,” Aurora added.

The student council member set a glass down in front of all four of them, breathing a sigh of relief when his tray was suddenly a lot easier to balance and carry. Clarke took a sip, immediately noting the taste of ginger ale. “Mmm, works for me,” she declared. This stuff had _really_ helped her with her nausea during her first trimester.

“I was hoping for champagne at least,” Octavia complained. When both her mother and her brother shot her a look, she tried to cover up her slip-up. “I mean, not really, because I’m underage,” she said, “and clearly I’ve never had a drink before ever in my whole life.”

“Oh, yeah, clearly,” Bellamy muttered sarcastically.

Clarke gave his arm a little whack. It’d be pretty hypocritical for them to sit there and lecture Octavia about drinking in high school when they’d done plenty of that themselves. Especially him.

“Oh, look, there he is!” Octavia exclaimed suddenly, looking back over her shoulder. She waved excitedly towards the entrance.

“Who?” Bellamy asked. He must have spotted Lincoln around the same time Clarke did—the guy was hard to miss being so Hulk-like and all. “Oh, fantastic,” he grumbled.

Octavia stood up and threw her arms around her boyfriend when he came to the table. “You made it!” she squealed.

“Of course,” Lincoln said. “This sounded like a big deal.” Before taking his seat, he smiled at his girlfriend’s mom and greeted, “Hi, Aurora.”

“Hi.”

“Clarke,” he acknowledged with a polite nod of his head. “Bellamy, congratulations on all of this. It’s quite the achievement.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy said, taking a drink of his ginger ale.

Octavia was all excited for Lincoln to sit next to her. She made him scoot his chair closer and everything, probably because she wanted to show him off. Clarke couldn’t really blame her for that. Lincoln was a gorgeous guy, and he looked like James Bond in his suit.

“My parents should be coming, too,” Clarke said, somewhat disappointed that there were still two empty seats at their table. She’d kind of been hoping that her mom would have to sit somewhere else.

“Your parents?” Aurora echoed. “Both of them?”

“Well, my mom and her boyfriend,” Clarke clarified. “My future stepdad.” She hadn’t actually invited them, but they’d heard about it, just like everyone else in town, and Kane promised her that he’d made Abby swear she would be on her best behavior.

“Oh, are they engaged?” Aurora asked. She took a drink, too, probably wishing that there was some alcohol on the premises now that she knew Clarke’s mom would be showing up.

“Not yet,” Clarke replied, “but they’re gonna be.” Hopefully having Kane here would help tonight. He got along with everyone.

“I can’t believe your mom’s actually coming,” Bellamy said.

“I know. But she swears she’ll be nice.” Clarke had her fingers crossed for that. Sometimes her mom made passive-aggressive types of jabs, and those were just as annoying as the obvious kind.

“She’d better be nice,” Octavia said, “otherwise she can sit at a different table.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Aurora said to her daughter.

“No, I agree with her,” Clarke piped up. “If she says so much as one mean thing to anyone, she’s outta here.” There was no reason for her to sit at the Blake table if she wasn’t going to be nice to the Blakes. Simple as that. “God, I need some food,” Clarke mumbled, looking over to the kitchen.

“I need booze,” Bellamy mumbled, rubbing his forehead

“They’re still sore,” Clarke told him quietly.

“No, _booze_ , not boobs.”

“ _Oh_. Oh, come on now,” Clarke said, amazed that he was _still_ being so grumpy about all of this. “This isn’t so bad. It’s all for you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask for any of it.”

She frowned, not sure how this speech of his was going to go tonight if he didn’t manage to muster up a little enthusiasm.

Her stomach was still rumbling with hunger when her mother and Kane finally arrived and approached the table. “Hello there,” her mom said, managing to sound perfectly pleasant. She was wearing a long gold dress that made her look like a trophy, and Kane was in a full-on tux.

“Abby,” Aurora said with a smile—either it was a genuine one or she was one hell of a good actress. “Nice to see you.”

“You, too, Aurora,” Abby said. “Can we sit here?”

“Of course,” Aurora said.

Kane pulled out Abby’s chair for her and made sure he was seated before he took a seat himself. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” Octavia returned, eyeing him up and down. “Nice tux.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Octavia, you look so much older than you used to,” Clarke’s mom noted.

“So do you,” Octavia said with a smirk.

Aurora’s eyes widened in alarm, and she whispered her daughter’s name harshly.

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh inwardly. Honestly, her mom, Bellamy’s mom . . . they both looked great. But it was nice to see her mom get a taste of her own medicine for once. Octavia Blake had no filter, so if she wanted to fling a few insults as payback for everything Clarke’s mom had said to Bellamy the other morning . . . well, that was fine.

Abby, to her credit, didn’t act all offended. She kept a smile on her face and turned to Clarke. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “And it’s the man of the hour. Congratulations, Bellamy. This is quite the athletic accomplishment.”

“Yep,” he agreed sullenly, “that’s what everyone’s been saying.”

Just the way her mom phrased that, though . . . not just an accomplishment, but an _athletic_ accomplishment. Like she wanted to differentiate between that kind of accomplishment and what in her mind was probably a ‘real’ one. Clarke didn’t want to read too much into it, though, so she tried to keep the conversation moving when she said, “Um, Aurora, do you know Marcus Kane?”

“I do not,” Aurora said. “But I know _of_ him. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” he said. “You must be very proud of your son.”

Aurora reached over and squeezed Bellamy’s shoulder. “I sure am.”

_So am I_ , Clarke thought, wishing he would just be proud of himself tonight, too.

“And who’s this?” her mom asked, gesturing to Lincoln.

“My boyfriend,” Octavia replied. There was pride in her voice, too. “Lincoln Woods.”

“Hi,” Lincoln said, waving to the two new adults at their table.

“Hi.” Abby waited until Lincoln and Kane had started up a conversation to turn to Clarke and quietly ask, “And how old is Lincoln?”

“Okay, I am not gossiping with you right now,” Clarke whispered back. She was grateful when Bellamy suggested they go get something to eat, but before he could even stand up all the way, the student council sponsor told him to stay seated and said that they would bring out food for the entire table.

The food ended up tasting as good as it looked, which meant that there was no way it’d been cooked in the school cafeteria. It had to have been catered in from somewhere. Pasta, chicken parmesan, lasagna . . . the works. Clarke was thankful there was no seafood, because she couldn’t indulge in that the way she could in this. And besides, Bellamy didn’t care for seafood anyway.

She ate fast, faster than anyone else at the table, and decided not to be embarrassed about it since they all knew she was eating for two. She was still hungry when she was done, though, so she looked around, trying to attract the attention of a stu-co member, and wondered aloud, “Can I get another plate?” Surely as the girlfriend of tonight’s Hall of Fame inductee, she could eat as much as she wanted.

There was no need for another plate, however, when Bellamy handed her his garlic bread and used his fork to slide his lasagna off of his plate and onto hers. “You spoil me,” she said.

Her mom, of course, was eating slowly. Portion control and all that. She pretended to be all interested in the memorabilia on display, even though Clarke knew for a fact that she still thought football was way too dangerous and didn’t condone it being played in schools. “Where’d they get all these things?” she asked.

“From me,” Aurora said. “I’ve kept so much over the years. Someone reached out, asked me for photos and anything else I might have. Of course I had plenty.”

_What if my kid does sports?_ Clarke thought. With Finn’s genetics, it was at least a possibility. She was going to have to make sure she held onto things, too, just in case she was ever the mom at an event like this.

“When did you start playing football, Bellamy?” Abby asked as she rearranged the food on her plate. “I forget.”

“When I was really young,” he answered vaguely.

“Five,” his mom added. “They had a kindergarten team.”

“How interesting,” Abby said, even though the words she actually felt like saying were probably _How dangerous_. “And why’d you stop?”

Bellamy didn’t say anything. In fact, the whole table fell silent.

_Even I don’t know the answer to that one_ , Clarke realized. Bellamy didn’t seem to have a problem talking about his time away from Arkadia—hell, the other night, she’d gotten a half hour lesson in how to be a good gondolier—but when it came to his one and only year of college, he was more of a closed book.

“Abby, your dress is just beautiful,” Aurora said, breaking the awkward silence. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, it’s custom-made.”

Aurora continued chatting about the dress, and it reminded Clarke of what Bellamy himself would do when he didn’t want to talk about something. He’d just start talking about something else.

“Hey,” she said to her boyfriend, forgetting about the food in front of her so she could direct all her attention to him. “Your speech is gonna be good. You have nothing to worry about. Are you winging it?”

“No,” he said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I wrote something.”

“Okay, then just remember, if the words on the page start to blend together, just stop, take a breath, shut your eyes for a minute if you have to. Then open them again.”

“I’m not worried about the reading,” he said, his eyes downcast, his brows creased tightly. He looked so tense. Clarke wanted to give him a massage or something to try to loosen him up, but this wasn’t the place, and they didn’t have the time, not when Bellamy’s former football coach stepped up onto the stage, tapped the microphone and said, “Testing,” and then waited for everyone to get seated and quiet down. It was starting.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” the coach said. “The Hall of Fame committee asked me to introduce this year’s honored inductee.”

Bellamy let out a heavy sigh, so Clarke reached over and squeezed his hand just like he’d done to her in the car.

“For four years, Bellamy Blake was a young man I was privileged to coach, to watch grow and develop both as a player and as a person,” the coach started in, reading off his notes. “Early on, I recognized his immense potential for the game, but even I didn’t anticipate that he would end up being the finest athlete I’ve ever worked him. During his time as quarterback, Bellamy re-wrote all the record books. He holds more records than any other athlete in school history, including some that will be difficult for anyone to ever break. With his leadership, the Rocket football program achieved unprecedented success. He inspired his teammates, the fans, and even me, and his talent was so big that a college all the way down in central Florida took notice. It’s no wonder every guy I coach wants to wear number seven.” Glancing up, he smiled at Bellamy. “Please join me in welcoming to the podium, this year’s Rocket Athletic Hall of Fame inductee, and its youngest inductee ever, Bellamy Blake.”

Everyone clapped, and Clarke was pretty sure she heard a few whistles mixed in there, too. “Good luck,” she told him as he got to his feet and walked up to the stage. His coach shook his hand, then stepped aside. Bellamy had to adjust the height of the microphone, and he said, “Thank you, Coach,” as he took his own speech out again. He unfolded it, laid it out on the podium, and waited a few seconds before beginning. “Uh, when I first found out about all this, I wasn’t really sure what to think,” he admitted. Pausing, he looked out at the crowd, then mumbled, “I’m still not sure, to be honest.”

Clarke thought back to the eighteen year old version of him, standing in front of people at the state pep rally. There had been an absolute sureness to him back then. He’d been _sure_ that they were going to win the championship.

“It’s, um . . . it’s a huge honor,” he said, nodding. “But the truth is, I’m not the best person for today’s high school students to look up to. I didn’t get good grades, and I banked my entire future on being able to throw a football. Looking back, I wish I’d made my academics a bigger priority.”

_Fair enough_ , Clarke thought, even though she hadn’t expected him to bring that up. Looking back, there were things she wished she’d done differently, too.

“While I was fortunate enough to receive an athletic scholarship to the University of Central Florida, I failed to graduate from that or any other post-secondary institution,” Bellamy said. He sounded so formal and so serious, leading her to suspect he’d revised this speech several times. “Therefore, I want to take this opportunity to emphasize to Arkadia’s current student athletes that what they do off the football field, the basketball court, or the wrestling mat matters far more than events such as this one may lead you to believe.”

The crowd started to become very quiet. Most likely, everyone had expected Bellamy to give a speech that was more . . . celebratory? Or at least less self-deprecating.

“This isn’t to say that I’m not grateful for my experience as a Rocket football player,” he clarified, reading off of his paper more fluently than Clarke had anticipated he’d be able to. Maybe he had gone ahead and practiced. Just not with her. “I enjoyed every second of every game I played, and my coaches and teammates were a second family to me. I will forever be grateful for the experiences we shared, for the lessons we all learned together, and for the memories we made.”

_But?_ Clarke thought. She sensed something else coming.

“If the Hall of Fame committee feels I am the right person to induct this year, then I will humbly accept the invitation,” Bellamy said. “I understand that the statistics I generated as a four-year quarterback warrant such an inclusion and am very grateful for the recognition.” He stopped for a moment, swallowed hard, looked over at his coach, then out at his mom, and said, “However, I must respectfully decline the committee’s decision to retire my jersey.”

An ominous buzzing started up amongst the crowd. Lots of shocked whispers and a few murmured questions about what exactly was going on here. Up on the side of the stage, the coach looked completely dumbfounded.

“Please understand that I mean no offense by this,” Bellamy said, “but I would like to see the number seven worn for generations to come. Whether it’s a quarterback, running back, or someone else entirely who dons that number, my sincere hope is that you wear it with pride, and that you give it a larger legacy than I did. Because while I produced stats for the record book, I did little else with my notoriety as a student athlete.”

Clarke frowned, not understanding why he was being so hard on himself. The Athletic Hall of Fame was about . . . well, athletics. There was no requirement that had to have done anything other than produce some amazing victories for their school. And he had. He’d done that time and time again.

“My challenge to anyone who wears that jersey is to take it further than I did,” he said, making brief eye contact with some of the current high schoolers in attendance. “Play in college if that’s your dream. Make it to the NFL. Or even if you don’t, at least make number seven a number that represents success in the classroom in addition to out on the football field. Give that number a reputation of helping people. Do with it the things I neglected to do. Be better than me. Be the kind of person whose jersey is retired not only because of the athlete you were, but because of the man you turned out to be.”

Clarke’s frown intensified. How could he . . . how could he even insinuate that he wasn’t a good man? He’d done so much for her since he’d been back, and he’d always been such a good brother to Octavia and a good son to his mom.

“Thank you,” was all Bellamy said to finish up. He stepped down off the stage to tepid applause. People clearly weren’t sure how to react to that. And instead of returning to the table, he headed towards the entrance. Clarke didn’t expect him to walk out, but that was exactly what he did.

“Well,” her mom said, “that was unexpected.”

Clarke wasn’t sure whether she should just sit and wait for him to come back or go after him, see if she could figure out what was going on. But ultimately, her curiosity won out. “Excuse me,” she said as politely as she could manage. She tried to be inconspicuous as the head of the Hall of Fame committee, an old man who held a plaque in his hand, took to the stage unsurely, and simply announced that Bellamy Blake was thereby inducted into the Rocket Hall of Fame. As Clarke was leaving the cafeteria, she noticed Aurora stepping up on stage to accept the plaque on her son’s behalf.

When she got outside, Bellamy hadn’t gone far. He was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and he still looked as tense as he had when he’d been preparing to give that speech.

“Bellamy,” she said. “What was that?”

With a flippant shrug, he replied, “My speech.”

It really hadn’t been a bad speech at all—for someone who didn’t enjoy writing, it’d been pretty eloquent, actually—but it just seemed to have caught everyone off-guard. Including her. “Look, I get that you think you let people down,” she said, “but . . .”

“No, Clarke, it’s not about those people. I didn’t owe them anything,” he said, whirling to face her. “So I don’t want anything back from them. I don’t want this.”

“But what your coach said was true,” she protested. “You did inspire people. You did make the football team great. Retiring your jersey . . . it’s just a way of celebrating all of that.”

“Then why not celebrate Miller?” he suggested. “He was the first openly gay player in the history of this team. Or Zeke. I heard he runs a non-profit in Virginia now. That stuff’s a hell of a lot more important than anything I did.”

She shook her head, feeling like he was still missing the point. This wasn’t some community service or diversity award. This was about recognizing talent, and Bellamy was one of the most talented athletes to ever compete for the Rockets. “I don’t understand,” she said, not sure why he would try to downplay his own success. “Is this about state?”

“No.”

“Because I know that probably still stings . . .”

“It was a game, Clarke. Just a game,” he cut in. “Not that big of a deal.”

“Then if it’s not that big of a deal, why not just let them retire your jersey?” she said, desperate to make sense of his point of view. “Why not just--”

“Because I don’t deserve it,” he blurted, saying the words as if it were a fact. She saw something so deep and recognizable in those dark eyes of his, so . . . profound, in a way. _Regret_. What he was feeling right now . . . it all came back to regret.

Clarke didn’t know what to say to him, but she sort of expected that he’d be able to pull it together and go back inside for the remainder of the night. It didn’t look like that was possible, though, when he handed her his keys, then turned and walked down the sidewalk. He walked past his car, but Clarke didn’t know where he was going. Back to her place? His mom’s? Or was he just going to wander around town all night? She wanted to ask him, but she doubted he even knew the answer. Right now, it seemed like all he wanted was to be left alone.


	25. Chapter 25

_Chapter 25_

Headaches seemed to be the new fun thing Clarke was going to have to learn to deal with. The morning sickness had subsided, but it seemed like she couldn’t just wake up feeling completely normal and like herself. It probably hadn’t helped that she’d slept like crap.

Bellamy’s alarm went off early, but he silenced it right away and moved around the bedroom and bathroom quietly as he got ready. She remained in bed, trying to ignore the needs of her bladder and just go back to sleep. But between having to go to the bathroom and needing some Tylenol to ease her headache—she so wasn’t one of those expectant moms who was afraid of popping some pain relief medication here and there—she knew it was unlikely that she’d be able to keep dozing, so she began to stir and opened her eyes.

“What time is it?” she asked Bellamy.

“Early,” he replied as he put on his jacket. “Go back to sleep.” He bent down, gave her a quick kiss goodbye on her cheek, and then headed out.

_Oh, Bellamy_ . . . She listened as he trotted downstairs, listened to the front door open and close, and then waited to hear his car start up outside. He was really planning on just slipping back into his normal routine, wasn’t he? He’d gotten home late last night and hadn’t said one word about the banquet or about his speech, and it didn’t seem like he at all intended to elaborate on why he felt he didn’t deserve such recognition from the school. She hadn’t wanted to argue, so she hadn’t said anything more about it, but now that she’d had a night to sleep on it—restlessly—she felt like she still had questions, and they weren’t going to just fade away.

She never did end up going back to sleep that morning, but the Tylenol helped her headache enough that she felt like she could make it through classes. She got up and took a shower, and that helped her feel a little more refreshed, too, and of course getting some breakfast in her stomach didn’t hurt. By the time she left the house, her headache was pretty dull, and her energy levels were . . . passable. She even had time to swing by the auto shop where Raven worked, so she did that before heading to campus.

Raven’s mechanical engineering degree made her way too qualified to be a car mechanic, but since her dad owned the business and she needed a gap year to save up money for grad school, it was a natural fit for her to work there this year. Anyone who didn’t know her would wonder what a beautiful girl like her was doing poking around under the hoods of cars, but Raven loved this stuff. Any excuse to fix things and work with her hands.

“Dad, I’m gonna need your help with this one,” she was saying when Clarke walked in. “I feel like it’s gonna blow up in my face.”

“I’ll be right over,” her father, Sinclair, called from underneath a pickup truck.

Raven groaned in frustration and yanked on something underneath the hood of the blue car in front of her, but she stopped when she looked up and saw Clarke approaching. “Ah, my best friend,” she said. “Are you here to save the day? I got a car that won’t start, a truck that brakes when it’s supposed to accelerate, and a minivan that’s making a weird clanging noise.”

“I think I’d better leave the mechanical stuff to you,” Clarke said. “I’m better with medical.”

Raven’s dad got to his feet and came over to examine the car. “Here, I’ll take a look. You go ahead and take a break,” he said before adding, “Hi, Clarke.”

“Hi.” Sinclair’s face was smudged with grease, and he had dirt and grime underneath his fingernails. How his daughter managed to do this job and maintain her manicure was a mystery.

“Good luck, Dad,” Raven said, wiping her hands off on a towel. “I think it’s unfixable.” She motioned for Clarke to follow her into the back office and shut the door once they were inside. “So what brings you by?” she asked. “Is it the alluring smell of motor oil or the stench of burning brakes?”

“Well, I had a little time to kill before class today, and I wanted to talk to you,” Clarke said. “About Bellamy.”

Raven made a face and sat down in her dad’s desk chair. “Whoa, I may know brakes, but you know _Blakes_. I think you’re kind of the Bellamy expert around these parts.”

Clarke shrugged. “Not really.” If she really knew him inside and out, she wouldn’t have to wonder about what was upsetting him; she’d just know. “Did you hear about what happened last night?”

“Oh, at the Hall of Fame banquet? Yeah, some people were tweeting about it. I didn’t know if they were just exaggerating, though.”

“They weren’t.” Clarke had gotten a few texts from people asking what had happened, but she’d ignored most of them. Most were from people she didn’t even talk to all that much anymore, high school acquaintances who still lived for small-town gossip. “He literally walked out after his speech, told everyone he doesn’t want his jersey to be retired,” she told Raven, wondering if they would feature pictures of his mom in the newspaper, accepting the Hall of Fame plaque on his behalf. Or maybe they’d put in a picture of him giving his speech? Or maybe there just wouldn’t be a picture at all. Maybe there wouldn’t even be an article, but that seemed unlikely. What other news was there to report in Arkadia?

“That’s weird,” Raven said.

“Yeah, he’s _been_ weird about it all week.” Clarke cleared enough space on Sinclair’s desk to sit down on the edge of it.

“What’s going on?” Raven asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t get him to tell me.”

“Oh, so you want advice.”

“Yeah.” Clarke just figured that Raven, having been in a successful relationship for two years now, would know how to approach the situation. “What would you do if Murphy wasn’t telling you something?”

Raven didn’t even hesitate. “Well, I’d probably just withhold sex until he spilled his guts.”

That was it? That was the advice? No, there had to be a better way. “Okay, but how about something that doesn’t involve . . . threatening.”

“I don’t know. Just keep talking to him. Let him know you’re there to listen,” Raven suggested. “When he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

Would he, though? He’d had days to open up about whatever issues this whole Hall of Fame thing had brought to the surface for him, and so far . . . nothing.

“And if that doesn’t work,” Raven added, “the sex thing.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, laughing a little. Withholding sex was a last resort, not at all something she wanted to do. She was definitely not—probably not—gonna have to resort to that.

Since Raven had work to do and Clarke had classes to attend, she didn’t stay long. Finding parking in the commuter lots on campus was a real pain in the ass these days, so she had to allow herself plenty of time to find a spot and walk to class. She was on her way to Jaha’s class when she once again came to her senses and remembered that she didn’t have that class today. So she had to turn around and head back in the other direction to get to a _different_ bio class. Fucking pregnancy brain. She felt like an idiot.

“Hey, Clarke!”

She whirled around when she heard a familiar voice. Octavia was running to catch up with her. “Do my eyes deceive me? Are you actually on your way to class?” she teased the younger girl.

“Yes. But only because there’s a quiz today,” Octavia said. “I don’t know why I even bother showing up. I’m probably gonna fail; I didn’t study for it.”

Her laissez-faire attitude towards her academics was something Clarke almost envied. She would have been beside herself if she had a quiz coming up that she was unprepared for.

“I’m glad I ran into you, though,” Octavia said. “I meant to give you something last night, but I forgot.” She reached into her backpack and took out a crumpled up pamphlet of some kind, handing it over.

“What’s this?” Clarke took a look at the front and got the basics. “Pregnancy classes? At the rec center?”

“Yeah. I know it’s here on campus, but it’s more of a community place. So they actually offer a lot.”

_Huh_ , Clarke thought. _Who knew?_ She usually only went to the rec center to watch Harper dance, or when Raven dragged her to the gym. But even then, she stuck to a bike or an elliptical, and that was it.

As Clarke skimmed the inside of the pamphlet, Octavia pointed out a couple of classes. “Lincoln said lots of women around town take this water aerobics one,” she said. There was a picture of a woman floating on her back with her big pregnant belly sticking up above the water. “And prenatal yoga’s pretty popular, too. And look, a Lamaze class. He said he knows the instructor, Luna. She’s really good.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said, slipping the pamphlet into her own backpack. “I might try some of these.” If nothing else, she was going to have to get signed up for a Lamaze class. Her mom had recommended one at the hospital, but maybe if she did it at the rec center, it’d be a younger crowd.

“Consider it my payment,” Octavia said.

“Payment?” Clarke echoed in confusion. “What did you owe me for?”

“The sex advice.”

“Oh.” Yes, she had given Octavia that advice. “So that happened.”

“Yep. And it hurt a little, like you said it would, but ever since then, it’s been getting better and better.” Octavia wriggled her eyebrows excitedly, then quickly added, “Don’t tell Bellamy.”

“Oh, trust me, I wasn’t going to.”

“Any sex talk stays between you and me.”

“Got it.” It was still kind of nuts to her that this girl who she’d once known as a pesky, somewhat annoying seventh grader was now, like, a full-blown woman. Deflowered and everything. “Actually,” she said, eyeing Octavia as an idea occurred to her, “I could use one more _tiny_ little favor. Since you did owe me.”

“What?”

“Could you talk to your brother about what all went down last night?” Clarke implored. Maybe he’d open up to a family member.

“Oh, no way,” Octavia said, holding her hands up in resistance. “That’s your job.”

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah. If there is such a thing as a Bellamy whisperer, you’re it.”

Clarke made a face. “What?”

“You know, like a horse whisperer,” Octavia compared. “They communicate with horses. They establish a trusting relationship and . . . get them ready to ride and--”

“Wait, are we seriously talking about me riding Bellamy?”

“No, because that would be gross.” Octavia shuddered exaggeratedly. “I’m just saying, if he’d open up to anyone, it’d be you.”

Clarke shook her head skeptically. “I don’t know. He didn’t talk about it when he got home last night. And he left early this morning.” To be honest, he was kind of surprised that Octavia was just as clueless about what was going on with him as she was. “You really have no idea what last night was all about, do you?”

“No,” Octavia admitted.

“Does your mom?”

“I don’t know. I asked her about it after we got home, but she didn’t really say anything.”

_I guess I could ask her then_ , Clarke pondered. But that felt kind of shady, like she was going behind Bellamy’s back. And she doubted Aurora would tell her anything anyway.

“Look, I’d love to stay and chat,” Octavia said, already backing away, “but I gotta go fail my quiz.”

“Oh, okay.” Clarke didn’t want to cause her to run late. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

At first, Clarke thought Octavia was wishing her luck on a quiz—she didn’t need luck. She knew the material. But then she realized that she was wishing her luck with Bellamy. And yeah, she’d probably need some luck on her side for that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy didn’t expect Clarke to still be awake when he got home. She fell asleep pretty early these days. But the lights were still on when he walked in the door, and Clarke was up and about in the kitchen. He assumed she was eating until he noticed an apple in her hand. And she wasn’t chomping away on it. Rather, she was holding it up to her stomach.

“What’re you doing?” he asked her.

“The baby’s the size of an apple now,” she informed him. “I have an apple in here, Bellamy.”

He chuckled, getting a kick out of these fruit comparisons. It was a kind of cool way of tracking the baby’s growth, though. “That’s crazy,” he said, moving towards her. How the hell did the female body manage to do what it did? An apple alone would be hard enough to push out, but an entire baby . . .

She handed him the apple and asked, “Did you enjoy your guys night with . . . who’d you go out with again?”

“Roan, from work. And Miller.” He took a bite of the apple, but for some reason, that brought tears to her eyes. “Sorry,” he said, setting it aside. Clarke’s emotions were very . . . accessible lately. The other night, she’d started crying because there wasn’t enough orange juice left to fill a whole glass.

“Don’t eat my apple baby,” she said, seizing it back from him.

“My bad.” At least he’d just taken one bite out of it. Most of it was still there. “What’ve you been up to?” he asked her.

“Homework.” She made a face. “And then I got distracted.”

“With the apple?”

“Yes.” She set it down on the counter, and despite her attachment to it right now, he wondered if he’d wake up in the morning to find that she’d eaten the rest of it.

“I could distract you some more,” he offered, slipping his arms around her waist. He bent down and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, letting his face linger there a moment so he could inhale the scent of her hair, her skin. God, she smelled so good.

“Before you do that . . .” she said, pushing back on his chest just slightly. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I got a call from the hospital today.”

Hearing that word immediately made him . . . alarmed.

“No, it’s good news,” she assured him quickly. “The results of my genetic testing came back. They said everything looked good. Normal.”

“Oh, that’s great.” He should have known nothing was wrong. She would have called him right away if something was.

“Yeah. I was trying not to worry about it, but . . . you know.”

“It’s hard not to,” he agreed. He didn’t even understand how the testing worked or know what abnormalities they were testing for, but if it all came back looking normal, that sounded good to him. “See, you got a perfect little apple in there,” he said, cupping his hand on her stomach. “Let’s go take a picture. I think I was supposed to do that yesterday.”

They went upstairs, and Clarke put on the same outfit she’d worn in the last photos, leggings and a sports bra. She posed in front of her closet, just like last time, and Bellamy made sure to have her facing the same direction with her hands in the same place. He snapped one picture on his phone that ended up being blurry, so he told her to hold that pose as he took another.

“Does it look any bigger than last week?” she asked.

“A little bit. See?” He showed her last week’s photo, then swiped over to this week’s. Just the slightest bit bigger.

“Oh, I’m just blowing up like a tick,” she lamented.

“No, you look good.” He understood that no girls liked gaining weight, but during pregnancy, it was a good thing.

“One of my apps says eyebrow hairs are starting to appear now,” she said, sitting down on the side of the bed.

He sat beside her and asked, “What about eyelashes?”

“I don’t know. Its eyes are kind of fused shut, I think. But apparently now it can sense light. And supposedly it’s a good idea to start talking to it. Helps develop language skills or something like that.”

“Oh, no, do you think it hears my bad language?” Sometimes when they were going at it, he just let loose.

“Possibly.”

“I gotta clean up my act then.” He was going to have to watch the swearing after the kid was born, too, have to censor himself. “So have you talked to it at all?” he asked her.

“A little bit,” she replied. “It’s kind of hard, though, when I still don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Well, you can still talk to it.”

She looked down at her stomach, then up at him. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Talk about me,” he suggested. “Talk about what you like about me.”

She glanced at his crotch and said, “That’s an inappropriate conversation.”

He laughed. Felt good to laugh after the week he’d had.

“Maybe you should say something,” she said, lying down and pulling him with her.

“Me?”

“Yeah. It’s in my belly. We’re already getting to know each other pretty well.”

He put his arm around her as she snuggled in close to his side. “What should I talk about?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“ _Anything_?” Well, that left the door wide open. “Alright, let’s start with Kim Kardashian.”

“What?” she shrieked. “You like Kim Kardashian?”

“I love Kim Kardashian.” It didn’t matter that she didn’t really have any talent. She was hot as fuck.

“Maybe something with a little more substance,” she said, drumming her fingers against his chest. “In fact, maybe . . .” She hesitated, and her voice was quieter, her tone more serious when she started in again. “Maybe you could talk to the baby about what happened at the banquet last night. Since you don’t wanna talk to me.”

_The banquet_ , he registered. She was still wondering about that. Her mind wasn’t completely focused on that little apple in her belly. She still had questions, ones he didn’t want to answer. “W-what?” he sputtered.

“It’s just an idea,” she said softly.

She wanted him to talk to the baby about . . . all of that? Did she have any idea how impossible that would be for him? “No, I can’t do that,” he said, quickly untangling himself from her. He sat up and sprung out of bed.

“Bellamy . . .” She sat up slower, looking a bit . . . startled.

“You’re using the baby to try to get me to talk?” he said, a little louder than he’d intended to. “That’s fucked up, Clarke.”

“No, I wasn’t trying to . . .” She looked at him pleadingly as she tried to explain. “I just think you’ll feel better once you get some things off your chest. That’s all.”

“I can’t . . . I can’t do this,” he decided, storming out of the room.

“Bellamy, wait!”

He didn’t wait. He just ran down the stairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke thought about giving Bellamy space but decided against it. It hadn’t worked so far, so why would it work now? No, she felt like she needed to go find him, so after about five minutes curled up in her bed, pondering where he was going, she got up, got dressed, and went out to the car. She tried calling him first, but he didn’t pick up, so she just drove. First she drove past his house, because that seemed like the most logical place for him to be. But his car wasn’t in the driveway, so she didn’t bother to stop. No need to alarm his mom. She’d find him, calm him down, and _hopefully_ they could talk. They really needed to.

Although she wasn’t sure why, something told her to go up to the high school. She just had a feeling he’d be there, even if no one else was. _Especially_ if no one else was.

When she got to the parking lot, she discovered that her hunch was correct. Bellamy’s car was one of only two parked there, and she pulled up right next to it. When she got out, she shivered and pulled the sleeves her of her jacket down over her wrists. It wasn’t a super cold night, but it wasn’t exactly a warm one, either. More than anything, she would have loved to have still been curled up in bed with him, with or without clothing on. It didn’t matter. But they had to deal with this first. Whatever this was.

Looking down the hill, she saw a lone figure sitting out on the football field, right on the faded fifty yard line, and she knew without even looking closely that it was him. He might have seen her drive up, or maybe he was too lost in thought to pay any attention.

She shut her eyes for a moment, remembering all the times she’d watched him play, how happy it’d made him. Most of the time.

****

_Clarke opened her eyes, pretty sure that she’d subconsciously just been praying. Was that stupid? Didn’t God have more important things to worry about than which school won the championship football game?_

 _It was like_ déjà vu _from last week. Time was running out, and they needed a touchdown to win. But this felt even more dire. They had only a few seconds left, time for only one more play. There was a lull in the action as both teams used up their remaining timeouts to discuss what had to happen. Clarke wasn’t a football expert by any means, but even she knew what had to happen. Bellamy had to score a touchdown. Miller had hurt his ankle in the third quarter, so he was out, and there was no way they were going to trust his backup with the ball. Not when they were only at mid-field, not when it all came down to this. That meant Bellamy was either going to have to pass it or run it himself. Whatever play they decided on, they needed some last-minute heroics from him. Again._

_“Come on, Bellamy,” she whispered as the players from both teams all headed back out onto the field. The guys on the sidelines all knelt down, arms interlocked, whispering prayers of their own. That meant Clarke had a great view of the action down there with the other cheerleaders._

_Everything felt so . . . different tonight. The stadium was huge. They’d gone to Annapolis for this, and they were playing in the same stadium that hosted the Military Bowl. There were probably a lot of other stadiums that were way bigger than this, but compared to what Arkadia had, it was gigantic. And the whole town seemed to have shown up. Same with the visitors. Together, they filled almost every seat. With the game coming down to the wire like this, no one was leaving early. No one had even considered it._

_Clarke stood hand-in-hand with the other cheerleaders, more nervous than she’d ever been for a football game. Nervous for Bellamy. He looked completely calm as he took his place behind his teammates, crouched down, and started shouting out commands Clarke didn’t understand._

_“Oh my god, I can hardly watch,” Raven said, squeezing one eye shut, keeping the other open. Her boyfriend was out there, too, and just like Bellamy, this meant a lot to him._

_“You’ve got this.” Clarke wasn’t sure whether she said the words or thought them. Didn’t matter. Bellamy couldn’t hear her anyway. Probably couldn’t hear anything in this stadium. It’d been louder than any game Clarke had ever cheered at before. But the moment that ball got snapped back to Bellamy, everything and every single person in that stadium just fell silent._

_Bellamy had the ball. He didn’t run, just kept his feet moving while he searched for someone to pass it to. But a defender from the other team got too close to him, almost tackled him, and he had to spin and run backwards._ Wrong direction, _Clarke thought, but Bellamy didn’t give up on the play. He scrambled, managed to keep his footing, kept the ball in his hand, and kept his eyes focused downfield. Then, he must have seen something, because he launched it through the air. Clarke held her breath, feeling like it was going in slow motion. And there, right in the end zone, poised to catch it, was Zeke. They were gonna win._

_Raven squeezed her hand in anticipation, and both of them stood up on tiptoe, ready to jump up and down with excitement when . . ._

_A guy from the other team dove in front of Zeke, snatched that ball right out of the air, and rolled onto the ground with it._

_Half the crowd screamed in defeat, the other half in delight._

_Zeke doubled over. The guys on the sideline lowered their heads._

_And Bellamy just fell to his knees._

_“Interception!” the announcer shouted. “The Razorbacks win the championship.”_

_Some of the other cheerleaders started crying, including Raven, whose whole body just slouched and crumpled over. A couple of the girls started complaining that it wasn’t fair, but . . . the refs didn’t throw any flags on the play. It was done. They’d lost. The other team’s fans were already celebrating, and their players were running out onto the field._

_Clarke didn’t cry, but she heard plenty of kids behind her, kids who had probably sat at that pep rally yesterday, doing enough of that for everyone. Some of the angry fathers were shouting profanities, and she knew that, if she looked up into the stands, Bellamy’s mom would be there somewhere, probably devastated for him._

_Clarke could barely keep sight of him as the field filled up with Razorback players and fans. But she was pretty sure he hadn’t moved, that he was still sitting there just beyond that fifty yard line on his knees, staring at the end zone, replaying that interception over and over in his mind._

****

Bellamy must have known that it was just her approaching, because he didn’t even glance back as she came up behind him. She stepped out onto that black track for the first time in years, allowing herself a second to remember what it had been like to watch the game from down there. After Bellamy had graduated and she’d quit cheer, she hadn’t gone to many football games.

“I had a feeling I’d find you out here,” she said, sitting down beside him. The grass was actually kind of comfy, but it probably hurt like hell when you got tackled on it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I shouldn’t have stormed out.”

This marked two nights in a row now that he’d sort of just taken off without her. To be honest, she hoped he didn’t make a habit out of it. “Bellamy, I wasn’t trying to use the baby to manipulate you into talking,” she told him. “I’m so sorry if it came across that way. I just . . . I hate seeing you bottle this up, whatever it is. I wish you would tell me what’s been upsetting you.” She cast a quick glance at him, but his lips remained shut, his jaw tight, like he wasn’t going to say anything. “But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” she added quietly, because she didn’t want to force him into talking. That needed to be his decision, not hers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said. “It’s just that . . .” Trailing off, he sighed heavily, looking down at the grass. “I’m scared of what you’ll think of me.”

She frowned, feeling more and more confused by the minute. “I love you,” she reminded him. “Whatever you’re dealing with, I’m gonna keep loving you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he mumbled, plucking a piece of grass, tearing it in half, and then tossing it aside. “I messed up, Clarke,” he said. “Back when I was in college . . . I messed up pretty bad.”

College. Well, at least that gave her an idea of where they were on his timeline then. Something must have happened the year that he’d left Arkadia, something that ate away at him still. “You don’t really talk about college a lot,” she noted.

“Well, there’s a reason for that.” He tore out another piece of grass, then looked over at her and shakily announced, “I’m gonna tell you, okay? But not the baby. Just you.”

She held his gaze in hers and nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t want it to know . . .” He hung his head, shaking it shamefully.

“It’s not listening,” she assured him. The baby was doing some pretty amazing things for just fifteen weeks, but it couldn’t understand words yet, so he could speak openly. If he wanted to.

It still took him a minute or so to actually start in, but she just sat with him and waited. Coming out here, just taking a moment alone out on this field . . . it seemed like it’d clarified something for him, and now he was ready to tell her. But it still didn’t seem like an easy thing for him to do.

“So you know I got a scholarship to UCF,” he said.

“Yeah,” she recalled. “You were really excited about it.”

“I was,” he agreed. “When I got there, I realized I had a lot of work to do. You get down to Florida, and football’s like a religion to people down there.”

“I’ll bet.” All those southern states like Texas and Georgia and Alabama . . . they _always_ had big-time football teams.

“So I worked my ass off in training camp, got the backup spot,” Bellamy went on. “And the guy they had playing quarterback . . . he was good. He was used to being the starter. I mean, of course I wanted his spot, but I was fine playin’ backup to him. I got in a few games, once we had a big enough lead. Threw a few passes. Ran for a touchdown.”

“I remember that.” As much as she’d tried to avoid the sports coverage that year, people had posted videos of that touchdown, and it’d been impossible to avoid around Arkadia. “Everyone here was talking about it.” At the time, it’d seemed like Bellamy was on his way to the big-time down there in Orlando. Everyone had pretty much assumed that he’d start getting into more games and that that video would be the first of many highlights. But instead, it’d been the last one.

“I knew I’d probably have to wait until my junior year to be the starter, unless Brady—that’s what we called him, ‘cause he had an arm like Tom Brady—unless he entered the draft. But he didn’t,” Bellamy said. “And that was fine. I didn’t mind waiting, because college football was a lot harder, and I wanted to get better. I didn’t have a problem with that. And I _was_ getting better, and maybe I could’ve gotten into more games sophomore year. Maybe I could’ve started a few. I don’t . . . I don’t know. But I was on my way.”

“So why did you end up dropping out then?” she questioned, the same question she’d heard a lot of people ask him since he’d been home. “Did you get tired of waiting?”

“No. Actually, I, uh . . . I kinda liked college,” he said, smiling fondly for just a second. That smile fell, however, when he added, “At first.”

Her mind raced with possibilities, trying to predict what he was going to say before he said it. Maybe he’d flunked out? She could see why he might be embarrassed to admit that. But did that really warrant storming out of the house? She didn’t think so.

“I did pretty well for the first couple months,” he said. “But eventually, I was pretty much just doin’ the same thing I did in high school,” he said. “My grades were better but . . . they started falling, and I was partying all the time, hookin’ up with girls.”

She winced, even though they’d both agreed at the time that they should move on to other people. Still . . . she hadn’t done that so easily.

“And I was playing the game I loved,” he said, sounding a bit wistful, as if he missed it. “The only difference was I wasn’t the top dog on the team anymore. People didn’t listen to me.”

That was hard for her to fathom, because she was so used to Bellamy being . . . well, Bellamy. The quarterback. The homecoming king. The guy who everyone gravitated towards. Sure, he’d just been a freshman at UCF, but she’d always kind of assumed that it’d be the same way for him there. But apparently not.

“So we end up gettin’ to this bowl game, a pretty good one,” Bellamy continued. “And leading up to it, everyone feels like we’re gonna win, so all anyone wants to do is party. Fine by me, right? But one night, I was . . .” He stopped short of finishing his sentence and swallowed hard. “I was at this party at Brady’s frat house. He lived there with a few other guys on the team. They always had parties, but . . . this one got pretty wild.” His eyes glossed over for a second, and she wondered if, in his head, he was right back there, reliving this wild party all over again.

_Maybe he drank too much_ , she pondered. Couldn’t athletes lose scholarships if they got caught drinking?

“And at one point,” he said, “I saw Brady and another teammate and these two other guys . . . I saw them heading upstairs with this girl. She couldn’t even walk. She was so drunk.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, grimacing.

_Oh, no_ , Clarke thought, her stomach twisting. _Oh, no_.

“They said they were just gonna put her in Brady’s bed so she could sleep. But they were all drunk, too.” Bellamy’s hands clenched into fists, and he shook his head angrily. “I should’ve stopped ‘em.”

Clarke was sort of afraid to ask, but she had to. “What happened?”

“What do you think?” he spat. “I knew they were up to something, but I just . . . I didn’t say anything. I let them take her upstairs, because I didn’t wanna _believe_ . . .” When he hung his head again, he let out a few tears. “I mean, these guys were my friends,” he said. “So I thought _maybe_ they were telling the truth. Maybe they really would just bring her up there so she could rest. But deep down . . . I still knew.”

Even without knowing what that girl or what those guys looked like, Clarke could still picture it in her head. And it was awful. Someone had tried to slip something in her drink at a party once, and it’d terrified her. She’d pretty much stayed away from the frat party scene ever since.

“I tried to just forget about it, but I couldn’t stop wondering if they were gonna . . . you know,” he mumbled. “I don’t know why, but I let, like, ten minutes pass before I even went upstairs. Why the hell would I wait so long?”

She knew he was blaming himself, but she felt bad for him, too. Being in a serious situation like that where you didn’t know what to do . . . it was horrible.

“And when I walked into Brady’s room, it was too late,” he said. “They were all over her. She wasn’t even conscious.” He wiped the tears from his eyes, hiding his face from her. “I got them off of her, but they’d already . . .” He couldn’t say the words, but his shuddering exhale said it all. “There were four of ‘em. And I think they were all gonna . . .”

It was a sickening thought, made all the worse by how common of an occurrence it was these days. Clarke was really thankful she’d never had to deal with any serious harassment, let alone assault. Not every girl was that lucky.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Bellamy said. “I got her out of there, but she ended up just coming to again and then running off, and I never saw her after that. But I never forgot what she looks like. And I can’t forget what I let happen to her.”

“Bellamy,” she said, angling herself towards him, “you tried to stop it.”

“Not soon enough. And all I could think about was, what if that was you or Octavia? I wouldn’t have hesitated then.”

_No_ , she thought, _you wouldn’t have_.

“I should’ve stopped ‘em sooner,” he said. “It’s partly my fault.”

“No,” she said. “I can see why you would think that, but . . .”

“No, I don’t _think_ it; I _know_ it,” he growled. “And it doesn’t matter if I didn’t know who she was. She was probably somebody’s sister, or friend.” He looked over at her, his eyes fixating on her stomach as he whispered, “Somebody’s daughter. And I didn’t do anything.”

Well, she’d been right when she’d noted that look of regret in his eyes last night then. But it wasn’t regret over a picked off pass or a loss in the big-time game. It was something bigger, more important. “So that’s why you quit the team?” she concluded.

He nodded sullenly. “The next day, I worked up the guts to tell my coach about it. But he didn’t do anything.”

“What?” That was ridiculous.

“It happens all the time,” he said. “Coaches protect their athletes, even when they shouldn’t.”

She thought back to all the parking lot parties they’d gone to, where they hadn’t even been that subtle about the fact that they were drinking. They’d gotten away with it so easily for that same reason: Nobody wanted to harm the team, so nobody gave the athletes any consequences. But underage drinking was one thing. Gang-raping some innocent girl was something else entirely.

“So I told some other guys on the team, but . . . they just all turned on me,” he said. “They thought I was making shit up ‘cause I wanted to be the starter. I didn’t even care about any of that anymore. But what could I do? I didn’t even know that girl’s name. I’m not even sure if she remembers what happened to her or . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to her. But she never came forward. Maybe they paid her off or something. I really wouldn’t doubt it.”

It sounded awful no matter what. If the girl remembered it or somebody told her about it, then it was trauma that she’d carry with her, and if they’d paid her off, it was trauma that she had to be silent about. She’d never really considered that so much could go on behind the scenes, and Bellamy probably hadn’t, either, until he’d actually been a student athlete and had gotten caught up in it.

“It was toxic, Clarke. The whole team, the whole program . . .” He made a face of disgust. “I couldn’t stay there after that, knowing they got away with it. I couldn’t play with those guys. So I quit the team, decided I was done with football, ‘cause . . . it just kind of felt like it was ruined for me. And now years later, I’m back here at a school that thinks I’m _so_ great they wanna retire my jersey. If they only knew . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head as though he were disappointed in himself.

It certainly made a lot more sense now, his reluctance to accept any kind of special honors or recognition. Football was sort of tainted for him now, sadly. One year on a toxic college team overshadowed four years on a prolific high school one.

“Bellamy, you’re not a bad person,” she assured him, hating to see him beat himself up over this, even though she understood where he was coming from. Some decisions were . . . haunting. They stuck with a person.

“I’m not as great as they think I am,” he said.

“You made a mistake. You didn’t wanna believe that your friends were capable of something so heinous, but they were. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a good guy.” She ran hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever known,” she told him. “That’s why I’m in love with you.”

“Even now?” he said. “Even knowing all this?” His eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

She nodded, glad that he’d finally opened up to her. It didn’t make her think less of him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said. “Not Raven, not even Octavia. My mom . . . I’ve told her some stuff over the years, but nothing this detailed.”

Clarke looked down at her lap.

“What?” he said.

She sniffed back tears and lifted her face to meet his eyes again. “I just feel really bad for that girl, whoever she is,” she said. “And I feel bad for you.”

“No, don’t,” he said.

“I do, though, because . . . football was your dream, and it just got destroyed.” He’d probably still be playing if it wasn’t for those coaches and those teammates he’d had. He probably would have finished college, graduated with a degree. Maybe he even would have gone pro, made a career out of football. Anything was possible.

“It just wasn’t what I was meant for,” he said, but rather than sounding sad about that, he sounded . . . accepting. “Maybe I was meant to come back here and be with you.”

_Maybe_ , she thought. There had been a time where she would have felt like she was holding him back, but he’d given up the game by choice. He’d chosen to come back here. He’d chosen to be with her again. Maybe it was all happening the way it was supposed to.

“I really wanna be a good guy, Clarke.” The words spilled out of his mouth in a rush. “I wanna be a good boyfriend and . . .” His eyes fluttered back down to her stomach. “I just wanna be good for both of you,” he said. “I’m really trying.”

He didn’t even have to try, though. That was what he didn’t seem to understand. He’d always been good to her. Their relationship, although it’d begun on a whim, had meant so much to her back in high school, and it meant even more to her now. “I don’t know what we’d do without you,” she told him, getting teary-eyed as she imagined doctor’s appointments and ultrasounds without his hand to hold. Who would take pictures of her growing belly if he wasn’t around? Who would listen to all her complaints about how she couldn’t get comfortable during the night? Who would get up to go get her a snack when she had a craving she couldn’t explain? Bellamy was being _such_ a good boyfriend.

She leaned over and kissed him, hoping he’d give himself some credit for all the good things he was doing. Maybe all the honors the school had planned for him had been too much, but hopefully some love and appreciation from her wasn’t.


	26. Chapter 26

_Chapter 26_

What was a pregnant woman to do when she was supposed to be eating healthy but was only craving unhealthy crap? That was the dilemma Clarke found herself in the next morning as she roamed around her kitchen, weighing her options. Sure, she had some yogurt and blueberries, but she also had some toaster pastries that were calling her name.

A knock on the front door delayed her decision. When she opened it, she found Bellamy’s mom on the other side. “Hi, Aurora,” she said.

“Hi. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, my bladder woke me up three hours ago.” She’d tried to go back to bed, but it hadn’t really worked. “Come on in,” she said, stepping aside so Aurora could enter. “Bellamy’s still asleep. He stayed up kind of late last night.”

“That’s actually why I came by,” his mom said. “I wanted to see how he was doing. Octavia said you were going to talk to him.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I did. He told me about . . . everything.”

Aurora nodded, too, not saying anything for a moment. When she did speak, her voice was quiet. “It’s not easy stuff for him to talk about,” she said. “He hasn’t even mentioned it to me for years. But I think all these athletic honors from the school . . . it just kind of brought it all back to the surface.”

“For sure,” Clarke agreed, and that was understandable. “I don’t know why he felt like he had to keep it a secret, though.”

“Well, he’s ashamed,” his mom explained. “He feels guilty.”

Clarke looked down momentarily, then mumbled, “We all have things we regret.”

“True,” Aurora said, sighing. “I’m glad he told you. I had a feeling he would. He trusts you; he loves you. You’re so good for him.”

_She’s so awesome_ , Clarke thought, in awe of how unwaveringly encouraging this woman was. Nothing against her own mom, but Aurora was, in many ways, the kind of mother she was hoping to be. This woman had her son’s back, no matter what. She didn’t question his decisions; she just backed them. Still, it’d be natural for her to have some doubts, though, to be skeptical about things. “We’ve never really gotten to talk about . . . everything he’s kind of signed on for with me,” Clarke mumbled. “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course,” Aurora assured her without hesitation. “Clarke, at the end of the day, I just want my son to be happy. And there’s no one who makes him happier than you do. So baby or no baby, yes, the two of you have my absolute support.”

Tears stung Clarke’s eyes. One second, they were dry, and then all of a sudden they were just there, threatening to spill over. And they did; she couldn’t hold them back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aurora said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, happy tears,” Clarke clarified as she sniffled and wiped them away. She just wished her mother would say something like this. It’d make things easier. “Don’t worry, I just cry at the drop of a hat these days,” she said, embarrassed to be so damn emotional.

“I remember what that’s like,” Aurora said, reaching out to her. “Come here.” She enveloped her in a hug, and Clarke laughed a little as she continued to cry. But at least the tears continued to be the happy kind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lexa sat down across from Bellamy with a sack from McDonalds in her hand. “Thanks for the lunch invite,” she said. “Any excuse to skip class.”

“You sound like my sister.” He was pretty sure Octavia was skipping more classes than she was actually attending, but as long as she passed, that was what mattered. “I can’t stay long,” he said. “Gotta be back to work in twenty minutes.”

Lexa took her food out of her sack—a Big Mac that looked bigger than her entire stomach—and took a huge chomp of it. “Clarke says you’re working . . . construction, right?” she said.

“Yeah.” Today was kind of rough. His back was killing him.

“Hmm. If I wasn’t gay, I’d probably find that really hot.”

Bellamy chuckled. Lexa was pretty cool. Hell, if she wasn’t gay, he’d probably be into her. “You mind if I ask you something?” he said. Since time was short, he kind of had to cut straight to the chase of why he’d texted her and asked her to meet up with him.

“Go ahead,” she invited.

He took a sip of his soda, then inquired, “How’d you get Clarke’s mom to like you?”

Lexa laughed loudly in response. “I didn’t.”

“What?” They’d dated for a year, and . . . nothing?

“Well, I mean, she didn’t _dis_ like me,” Lexa acknowledged. “She just never really . . . endorsed the relationship. But at least you don’t have that same problem. I mean, you’re a guy.”

That didn’t mean he automatically had her stamp of approval, though. “She’s not exactly on the Bellamy Blake bandwagon, either,” he said. “I think, no matter what, she still looks at me and sees the guy who . . . you know.”

“Deflowered her daughter?” Lexa filled in.

“Ah, pretty much.”

She cringed. “Yeah, that’s probably a tough one to overcome. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, she didn’t like Finn that much, either.”

She didn’t? Great. “That does make me feel better,” he said, because even though he wasn’t the greatest guy to ever exist, he felt like he had more to offer than Finn did.

“To be honest, I think Abby just has this picture in her head of who she wants Clarke to date,” Lexa said. “And it’s not you. Not me. Not Finn.”

“Who the hell is it then?” It sounded to him like the woman was making herself impossible to please.

Lexa shrugged. “Probably that Wells kid.”

“Wells?” he echoed. “Wells _Jaha_?” Wasn’t he in the Ivy League now?

“Yeah. He’s the guy Clarke dated in high school, right?”

“Her freshman year.” He scoffed at that. “No chemistry.” She’d definitely upgraded in the passion department when she’d hooked up with him.

“Right, but Clarke tells me he’s this really accomplished guy nowadays,” Lexa went on. “Already in grad school, at _Brown_ of all places, has a great job, making lots of money . . .”

“So he’s a wealthy, educated professional,” Bellamy summarized. “Great. I’m not any of those things.” The possibility of him ever going back to college was slim. Not impossible, but what had happened at UCF had kind of tainted the whole idea of it for him. He didn’t make lots of money, and he didn’t have an amazing job, so he’d probably never be as successful as Wells was. “If that’s what Abby’s looking for, then she’s always gonna hate me.”

“Not necessarily,” Lexa said. “Think about it: You’re basically volunteering to be the father of Clarke’s child. Eventually she’s gotta be impressed by that.”

Stepping in with that baby had nothing to do with Abby and everything to do with Clarke. But if it painted him in a more favorable light in Abby’s eyes, then so be it. “So what you’re saying is . . . eventually she’ll like me?” he said, wishing there was some kind of timeline so he knew how long that would take.

“Hopefully,” Lexa said.

_Hopefully?_ So she wasn’t even saying it was guaranteed then. Lovely.

His lunch with Lexa actually did make him feel better, mostly because they stopped talking about Abby and ended up comparing oral sex techniques. And that was fun. Afterward, he went back to work, made it through the day, and swung by Eligius on his way home, because he knew Clarke was working until 7:00. When he walked in the bar, although he wasn’t going to say anything to anyone, a few guys—old teammates, he recognized—at one of the corner tables saw him come in and hollered at him to get his attention.

“Hey, Blake, what the hell’s wrong with you?” one of his former linemen, Dax, shouted at him. (Dax had gotten fat.) “You think you’re too good for your hometown? Lookin’ down on our awards and shit . . .”

It seemed like _everyone_ had heard about the Hall of Fame ceremony, even if they hadn’t attended it. Someone had asked him about it at the gas station today, too.

“Ignore them,” Clarke said as she came up to him. She gave him a quick kiss and said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Luckily, it was a lot easier to ignore Dax and those other guys when he had her to focus on.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Nothing. I just had an idea today.”

“Ooh.” Her whole face lit up with excitement. “Like a sexy roleplay idea?”

“No. Where’s your mind at?”

“In the gutter, apparently,” she mumbled. “What’s your idea?”

It was something he’d been mulling over for a couple of days, but after talking with Lexa about how Abby would _hopefully_ come to like him one day, he just figured they might as well go for it. “I think we should host our own Thanksgiving,” he told her. “That way we don’t have to split time between your mom and my mom.”

Clarke made a face. “You want us to cook the meal. And invite everyone over?”

“Just your mom and Kane, my mom, Octavia.” They could cook for six people. That wasn’t too bad.

“That sounds like a lot more work,” Clarke said, not so immediately keen on the idea.

“I know, but . . . I’m tryin’ to get on your mom’s good side,” he admitted. “I’m trying to impress her.” Hosting a holiday meal seemed like a step in the right direction, at the very least.

She thought about it for a few seconds, then decided, “Alright, let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s just a meal,” she said. “How hard can it be?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Just a meal. How hard can it be? Yeah, right_ , Clarke thought as she and Bellamy spilled out the front door, kicking herself now for being so cocky. Those had been some famous last words, because a plume of smoke followed them outside, and they both gratefully breathed in some much-needed fresh air.

“Oh my god, what did we do wrong?” she wondered.

“I don’t know,” he said, coughing. “But we can’t eat that turkey.”

“Is it unsalvageable?”

“You ever seen _Christmas Vacation_?”

Was that one of the _National Lampoon_ movies? “Yeah?”

“It’s like that.”

She pictured that scene where the turkey just popped open and was all hollowed out inside. The family in the film had tried to eat it, but they’d mostly just been gnawing away at bones. “What’re we gonna do?” she fretted. “People are gonna be here in an hour.” Why had she agreed to host this dinner again? Why had she ever assumed they could pull this off?

“It’s okay,” he said, whipping out his phone. As he tapped out a quick text, he said, “I told my mom to cook a backup turkey, just in case. I’ll just have her bring it.”

“Oh, good thinking.” Now they just had to get rid of that smoke smell, and they’d be in good shape.

When Bellamy’s mom learned of the turkey emergency, she high-tailed it over. She carried a big old roaster that looked pretty heavy, so Bellamy immediately rushed out to greet her and take it off her hands.

“Hey, Mom. Thanks for bringing this,” he said.

“No problem.”

Octavia came inside behind her mom and shivered, rubbing her arms through her jacket. “God, Bell, it’s freezing in here.”

He set the roaster on the stove and said, “That’s cause we had to . . . air it out.”

“Where’s the disaster turkey?” his mom asked.

“Out in the trash,” Clarke said. They’d covered it up with some other stuff, too, so that, if her mom for some reason looked in there, she wouldn’t be able to see it. “Is it okay if we take full credit for this one?”

“Go right ahead,” Aurora said.

“Thanks.” Normally, she wasn’t one to take credit for someone else’s work, but this Thanksgiving meal was pretty important to Bellamy and to the impression he wanted to make, so a good turkey was a necessity.

“Why is there a piano bench at the table?” Octavia questioned.

“Because we don’t have enough chairs,” Bellamy told her. “So that’s where you and I are gonna sit.”

Yeah, the small table was another thing they hadn’t really given much thought to until last night. Clarke had started freaking out and sobbing, because she’d thought they might have to eat in the living room, and her mom was _so_ against eating on couches. But Bellamy had thought of bringing the piano bench down from upstairs, so that would work.

“I think I did okay on the green bean casserole,” she said, showing it to Aurora, in search of her approval. She lifted a clump of it out, and it just dribbled off the spoon. “It’s a little soupy, but it’ll do.”

“It’ll thicken up,” Aurora said.

“Mmm, the mashed potatoes look good,” Octavia remarked as she walked past a bowl of fluffy, buttery white potatoes.

“They’re store-bought,” Clarke confessed, because who the hell honestly had time to sit around peeling potatoes anymore? “Microwaveable. Don’t tell my mom.”

“Oh, speak of the devil . . .” Bellamy muttered as another car pulled up out front. He went to the door, laughing nervously. “I’m just kidding, of course. You’re mom’s not the devil. She just hates me.” Opening the door, he plastered a big, exaggerated grin on his face and exclaimed, “Happy Thanksgiving!” as Abby and Kane got out of the car.

“Aw, look at him,” Clarke said. “He’s trying so hard.” Hopefully it wouldn’t all be for naught.

“Did your mom say anything about the Hall of Fame dinner the other night?” Aurora asked her quietly as Octavia took to sampling the mashed potatoes.

“She asked me about it, but I just told her Bellamy and I talked and left it at that,” Clarke replied. “It’s none of her business.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her mom, but there was always the _chance_ that she’d tell Callie, and then Callie would tell everyone else, and suddenly the whole town would know about Bellamy’s experience at UCF. Which he clearly didn’t want.

When her mom came inside, she, like Octavia, had something to say about the temperature. “Oh, honey, it’s so cold in here. What do you have it set on?”

It would warm up once they were able to keep the door shut for a while. “Mom, I’m pregnant,” she said, using that as an excuse. “I have hot flashes.”

Luckily, Aurora was there to help her out. “Abby, come look at this lovely turkey your daughter made,” she said.

As her mom untied her scarf, she came into the kitchen and peered into the roaster at the beautifully-browned bird. “Clarke, I’m impressed,” she said. “You did so well. Come here, honey.” She hugged her and said, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Clarke said to her, too. She mouthed a silent thank you to Aurora over her mom’s shoulder, and Aurora just smiled at her and nodded.

Since the food was all cooked, they didn’t waste any time getting to the dinner. Well, it was more of a lunch, actually. Clarke set the table exactly the way her mom had taught her to, and Bellamy, bless his heart, found a Thanksgiving playlist on Spotify for background music after he carved up the turkey. He kind of mangled the dark meat section, but it was all still edible. They all sat around the table, joined hands, and Kane said a prayer, and after that, it was time to dig in. Clarke tried to eat slowly, but all the food aromas had been driving her nuts all morning—with the exception of that burnt turkey—and she was _so_ hungry. Despite trying to pace herself, she finished what was on her plate well before anyone else did, but since she had a valid excuse for eating so fast, she just shrugged and scooped herself some seconds.

“Mmm, these rolls are delicious,” Kane praised.

“Bellamy picked them out,” Clarke said, just to make sure he got credit.

“Good choice,” Kane told him, and Clarke had to agree. Hell, she was already on her third roll, but if anyone asked, it was her second.

While everyone else started helping themselves to seconds, Octavia just folded up her napkin and set it atop her plate, apparently done, even though she still had some green bean casserole there. (It never really had thickened up the way Clarke had hoped.)

“What’s the matter?” Aurora asked her daughter. “Are you not hungry?”

“No, just gotta save room,” Octavia said, patting her flat stomach. “I’m going over to Lincoln’s for Thanksgiving dinner. In fact . . .” She checked the time on her phone. “I should probably head out now.”

“Oh, so we’re not . . . we’re not watching the Charlie Brown show like we’ve done every other year?” Aurora asked, sounding a little . . . disappointed.

“Sorry,” Octavia apologized, getting up. “I promised him I’d be there. But thanks for having me, guys. Everything was really good. Especially that turkey.” She grabbed her jacket off the coat rack, stepped into her warm, fuzzy boots, and said, “Later,” as she walked out the door. It was a hasty exit, propelled, of course, by her desire to spend time with her boyfriend. Which was understandable, but Clarke thought Aurora looked a little sad.

“I’m sorry,” Aurora apologized to the group. “I didn’t know she was gonna be so . . . abrupt.”

“Lincoln,” Bellamy muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

“It’s hard when your children grow up,” Abby empathized. “Sometimes they do things you don’t approve of.”

Clarke shot her a warning look. None of that. None of the subtle little jabs her mom was so good at. That wasn’t allowed today.

“Oh, I approve of her boyfriend,” Aurora clarified, “not that she needs my approval. She’s an adult.”

_You hear that, Mom?_ Clarke wondered. Octavia was eighteen and dating a twenty-six year old, and yet Aurora was more accepting of that than Abby was of Bellamy.

“It’s just tough to let her leave the nest,” Aurora admitted. “She’s my daughter.”

Abby nodded knowingly and looked at Clarke as she said, “Daughters are special.”

_Dammit_. When her mom said stuff like that, it was hard to be mad at her.

“So do you have any inclination on what you’re having, Clarke?” Kane asked as he reached for another roll. “A girl or a boy?”

“I don’t know,” she said, still debating whether or not she wanted to find out. “I guess as long as it’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” She felt like it was a boy, but Bellamy was still predicting a girl.

“We should do one of those gender reveal things,” Kane proposed. “Isn’t that all the rage?”

“Yeah. Maybe. That might be kind of fun.” Admittedly, she’d looked up a couple things on Pinterest, and some of the gender reveal ideas were actually really cute.

“Back in my day,” her mom said, “you just went in for an ultrasound and found out.”

Aurora smiled and recalled, “I waited with Bellamy, let it be a surprise.”

“You did?” Clarke said, seeing some appeal in that option, too.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I figured getting pregnant with him was a surprise to begin with, so why not let everything be that way?”

Part of her really liked the idea of not knowing, of just finding out when the baby actually entered the world. But logistically, knowing in advance would simplify things so much. That way she’d know what clothes to get, how to decorate the nursery . . . once there was an actual nursery to decorate.

“Clarke’s pregnancy was surprising, too,” her mom felt the need to pipe up, for some reason. “I sure didn’t expect it.”

_And like I did?_ Clarke thought. Maybe her mom didn’t mean anything by it, but just hearing her say that . . . she felt like she’d let her down, and nobody wanted to feel that way, especially not on a holiday like Thanksgiving.

“She’s handled it pretty well, though,” Bellamy said, reaching over to put his hand on top of hers and give it a squeeze.

She smiled at him and said, “I’ve had help.” She’d meant it the other night out on the football field when she’d told him she wasn’t sure what she and the baby would do without him. He’d been her rock ever since he’d come back to town, the one person she could rely on more than anyone else. And for that, she was very, very thankful.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some people claimed it was a myth that turkey made people sleepy, but Bellamy believed it. After the pumpkin pie, which had been store-bought just like the mashed potatoes, everyone retired to the living room couches to just relax. They put on the Dallas Cowboys football game, which Bellamy had always found a way to tune into, even when he’d been living in other countries. It wasn’t that he was a _huge_ Cowboys fan or anything, but if they were playing, he usually rooted for them, because he liked their young quarterback and . . . well, he liked their cheerleaders.

Clarke’s head was on his shoulder, and she was dozing, and his mom sat in the recliner, struggling to keep her eyes open, too. Abby definitely wasn’t watching, because she’d taken to looking through some of the drawings in Clarke’s sketchbook. There were probably some explicit ones in there, but . . . oh, well. She’d insisted.

That left him and Kane as the only two actually watching the game. He liked Kane. The guy was decent, pretty laid-back, which was miraculous considering who he was dating; and even though he didn’t know anything about football, watching the game with him was pretty fun.

“What do you think here?” he said when the Cowboys faced a critical third down. “A pass play?”

“Run. Just watch,” Bellamy predicted. They had eight yards to get, so most people would assume it’d be a short pass, but when he looked at the way the defense had set itself up, he just sensed an opportunity for the quarterback to run. And indeed, that was what happened. Just a quick cut to the side, and then straight up the middle of the first down.

“How’d you know that?” Kane asked.

“Because that’s what I would do.” He looked at those guys out on the screen, and he knew that he lacked the physical stature to be in the NFL. It’d probably been a pipe dream at best. But his instincts for the game were still good. He missed playing sometimes.

“I have to pee,” Clarke sleepily announced as she pushed herself up from the couch. “Again.” Eyes half-closed, she plodded into the downstairs bathroom and shut the door.

“Clarke’s getting tired,” Abby noted. “Maybe we should go.”

“You guys can stay as long as you want,” Bellamy offered, even though he was fine with it if Abby left. She’d actually been pretty nice to him today, but still . . . he wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells if she wasn’t there.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” his mother said. “If you’re willing to watch the Charlie Brown show with me this year.”

“Sure,” he said, figuring someone had to since Octavia had taken off.

“Come on, Marcus,” Abby said, standing up and stretching, “let’s go get our coats.”

“Oh, right in the middle of the game?” He didn’t stand up right away, but as she headed upstairs, he took that as his cue to follow. “Okay, then.” Groaning, he got to his feet and headed up after her. Bellamy had put their coats up in the bedroom, because they hadn’t had enough room on the coat rack.

When it was just him and his mom, he asked her, “How do you think I did today?” He felt good about it, but it’d benefit him to have another opinion.

“Perfect,” his mom said. “How could Abby not be impressed?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll find a way.” There was no way she could insult the turkey, because that thing had been damn succulent, and he’d seen her eat two of those rolls. If she found out the pumpkin pie wasn’t homemade, that might be a strike against him, but how was she going to find out? His lips were sealed, and Clarke wouldn’t say anything, either.

“Bellamy!” his girlfriend called from the bathroom suddenly. “My back hurts. Can you go get me my Tylenol? It’s upstairs.”

“Sure, Princess,” he called back. That nickname got a giggle out of his mom, and he said, “What? That’s what I call her,” as he treaded upstairs.

As he neared the bedroom, he heard conversation, the quiet kind, but not exactly a whisper. It sounded like Abby and Kane were arguing about something, or at the very least having a heated exchange. He didn’t exactly want to interrupt, and he wasn’t really trying to linger outside the room and eavesdrop, but . . . it was hard not to.

“I don’t understand, Abby.”

“Just think about things from my point of view, okay? The boy gets my daughter, my grandchild, now even my house. If he’s gonna be living here, the least he can do is pitch in with the rent.”

_The boy_ , he registered. She was talking about him. She didn’t even think of him as a man; she thought of him as a _boy_.

“I don’t think he’s moved in yet,” Kane said. He sounded a lot calmer than his girlfriend did.

“ _Yet_ ,” Abby emphasized. “Yet would be the key word there, Marcus. It’s only a matter of time.”

Well . . . she wasn’t wrong.

“What do you have against him?” Kane asked her. It was a brave question, but he was probably one of the only people in the world who could get away with asking it.

“Nothing. It’s just that . . .” Abby trailed off and sighed frustratedly. “Oh, you don’t know what it’s like when he and Clarke are together. You only know her as this typically responsible, mature girl, but when she’s with him . . . she just doesn’t think. She’s so reckless, Marcus. She’s . . . oh, she’s so reckless.”

“Well, she can’t be reckless now,” he pointed out. “She’s a mother.”

“And what does that make him then, the father?” Abby spat. “I just wonder, have they _really_ thought about that? Because I don’t think they have.”

Bellamy frowned, disheartened to be hearing all of this. Clarke’s mom had been nice to him today, sure, but her opinion of him hadn’t changed.

“I think they’re just being ruled by their hormones, just like they were back in high school,” she went on, “and they’re so caught up in being back together that they’re not even thinking about what’s gonna happen when things get hard. Because things do get hard in relationships, even the normal ones.”

_Normal?_ Now his relationship with Clarke wasn’t normal? Bellamy had really had enough of listening to that, so he pushed open the door as a way to announce his presence. “She needs her Tylenol,” he said, slinking through the bedroom, not even bothering to disguise the look of hurt he knew was on his face. He thought he saw a flash of remorse in Abby’s eyes, like maybe she felt bad when she realized he’d likely heard all of that. But she didn’t say she was sorry. Because she wasn’t. The woman truly believed everything she was saying. She didn’t think he and Clarke were gonna last.

_Can’t wait to prove you wrong_ , he thought as he flipped on the bathroom light and grabbed Clarke’s medicine off the sink.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke was faintly aware of Aurora leaving after that stupid Charlie Brown show. Faintly. A short time after her parents had left, though, she’d fallen asleep on the couch, and her head had ended up on Bellamy’s lap. He was just as comfy as any pillow, so she dozed and murmured a goodbye as Aurora walked out the door. In the back of her mind, she knew that there were dishes in the washing machine that needed to be unloaded and put away, but she was too tired to bother with it, and she stayed right where she was. Bellamy didn’t move, either. He seemed exhausted, too.

At some point, Clarke started talking in her sleep, to the point where she woke her own self up. She heard the words, “I’m drowning in Doritos,” leaving her mouth as she stirred.

It took Bellamy a few seconds to respond, so maybe he’d been dozing, too. “What?”

Groggily, she sat up a bit, looking around the now empty living room, squinting against the bright light of the lamp. “Sorry,” she said. “I was dreaming about food.”

He rubbed her back and teased, “Didn’t have enough of that today, huh?”

“No, I’m stuffed.” She sat all the way up, staying close to him, and yawned. “You should’ve woken me up to say goodbye to your mom,” she said. “She saved our asses today.”

“Yeah, she did,” he agreed.

Clarke hoped Aurora had at least taken the leftover turkey with her instead of leaving it for them. It was, after all, her own cooking. “Was my mom pretty nice to you overall, though?” she asked Bellamy, hoping her mom had been even halfway as amicable. “She didn’t seem too bad.”

“Yeah,” he replied, though he didn’t sound too convincing, “she was nice.”

Clarke saw through that right away. “No, she wasn’t.” He was just trying to downplay any hostility so that it wouldn’t bother her. “What’d she say?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Bellamy.” She needed to know. She needed to know so she could talk to her mom, get her to be more accepting. Somehow.

“She just . . . she still doesn’t like me,” he said, sounding resigned to that fact.

She pouted, feeling bad for him. He was trying so hard all the time. _All_ the time. “Well, that doesn’t matter,” she said. “I like you.”

He smiled at her, but his eyes . . . his eyes looked a little sad. He could downplay it all he wanted, but Clarke knew he would have loved to have her mom’s approval, to be able to have her over without feeling like he was being judged and scrutinized.

“In fact . . .” Climbing up onto his lap, she decided to make him feel better by getting his mind on something else entirely. “Let me show you how much I like you.” She scrunched up the bottom of his shirt and stroked and caressed his abs, paying special attention to the happy trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans.

They’d always known how to make each other feel better.

****

_Clarke was bored. Like so bored. Bored to tears. Well, not_ actual _tears, but if she had to listen to her cousin Sicily (yes, she had a cousin named Sicily even though there wasn’t a trace of Italian in her family’s ancestry) . . . if she had to listen to her cousin Sicily talk politics for one more minute, she felt like she was going to scream. Her whole family—aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents—all had different views than she did. They didn’t know that she found both men and women attractive, and she wasn’t about to tell them, because it’d just upset every single one of them._

_Thankfully, as Clarke sat in the living room on the couch with the only cousin who was close in age to her, Sicily changed the subject. “So what about you?” she asked. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.” But before Clarke could even get a word out, Sicily blurted, “I heard your boyfriend lost the state championship.”_

_Her boyfriend was the one who’d gotten them to that championship. Without him, they probably wouldn’t have even made the playoffs. “Who’d you hear that from?” she asked._

_“Your mom.”_

Oh, of course, _Clarke thought bitterly. Her mom didn’t exactly have the Rocket spirit. In fact, Clarke was pretty sure she was secretly happy that they hadn’t won, that Bellamy had thrown that interception. As if one bad play was going to make Clarke have second thoughts about dating him. “The team lost,” she corrected. “It wasn’t his fault.”_

_“That’s not what she said.” Sicily took a sip of her diet Coke through her straw. It was the loud, gurgling kind of sip that just drove Clarke up the wall. That coupled with the conversation was just too much, and she had to get up and walk away._

_Her house was bustling with people, so it took her a minute to find her father. He was holed up in his study, apparently trying to evade the Thanksgiving festivities just like she was._

_“Dad, how long are they gonna be here?” she whined. “They’re driving me crazy.”_

_“It’s a holiday, Clarke,” he said. “Everyone’s going crazy. Just grin and bear it.” As if taking his own advice, he plastered a fake smile on his face and headed back out into the main room._

_Clarke groaned, slumping back against the wall. Last Thanksgiving hadn’t been too bad, because it’d been their first year in this house, so everyone had mostly been interested in getting the grand tour and seeing the space. But now that they’d already seen it and the novelty had worn off, it seemed like a lot of people just wanted to sit around and gossip._

_When her phone vibrated, she noticed a text from Bellamy. First thing all day she was_ truly _thankful for._

Come outside, _it read._

_What? Bellamy was there? At her house on Thanksgiving? She’d assumed he’d be with his family today, but then again, maybe they didn’t do a big meal. Maybe it was just him and his mom and his sister having their own Thanksgiving. Honestly, that sounded a lot more relaxing and chill than this._

_She slipped out of her dad’s office, deliberately walking with her head down, not making eye contact with anyone as she tried her best to be invisible and just slip outside without being noticed. Sicily called out to her, but she just ignored the girl and kept on walking, not even bothering to put on shoes before she went outside._

_Bellamy’s truck was parked out on the street, but he stood in the driveway near her uncle’s brand new Lexus, waiting for her. The moment she saw him, she forgot all about how frustrating and annoying it was to have her family over, ran to him, and hugged him and kissed him. “What’re you doing here?” she asked._

_“My mom and O are in a food coma,” he answered. “Figured I’d come see you.”_

_“My hero,” she said, sliding her hands down from his shoulders to his chest. “I was miserable in there.”_

_He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, rubbing her back as he gave her another kiss. “So what’re you thankful for this year, Clarke?”_

_It was an easy answer, one she didn’t even have to think about. “You,” she blurted. “Being with you.”_

_He didn’t echo that to her in response, but she saw it in the warm glow of his dark brown eyes that he was thankful for the exact same thing._

****

Bellamy groaned as Clarke sank down on top of his cock. They were both still halfway clothed, but she just hadn’t been patient enough to get completely naked. “Oh, you like me a lot,” he said as she began to move. “Don’t you?”

 _More than anything_ , she thought as she bounced up and down, her belly rubbing against his abdomen as she leaned forward a bit. If it kept growing at this rate, she felt like it was going to get in the way of almost every position. But for now, she was just going to sit with him on the couch and ride him, while she still could.

Lowering his head to her shoulder, he pressed a kiss to her exposed skin and murmured, “I love you, Clarke.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered back breathily, holding onto his shoulders as she moved so she could keep her rhythm steady. She loved him enough to set off any hate he felt from her mom. The way she was acting towards him probably had more to do with the past than anything else. But Clarke didn’t want him dwelling on that.


	27. Chapter 27

_Chapter 27_

Whoever said December was the most wonderful time of the year obviously hadn’t bothered with Christmas shopping. In Arkadia, options were pretty limited. There was the Walmart on the outskirts of town that was usually pretty picked-over and consistently smelled of cat pee, and there was also a Target that, while more expensive, was marginally more appealing to someone whose sense of smell was already in a heightened state. Clarke liked to get her shopping done early, so she dragged Bellamy along with her, not on Black Friday, not even on Saturday, but on Sunday. Totally worth it to wait a few days just so she didn’t have to deal with any crowds. Not that there _were_ a lot of crowds in their small town, but anything was too much.

“Jesus Christ,” Bellamy swore as they roamed through the baby section. He picked up a small package of diapers and asked her, “You see the price on these?”

She’d seen that they were about nine dollars, which was ridiculous. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she agreed. And the worst thing about diapers was what an absolute necessity they were. It wasn’t like they could just _not_ get diapers for the baby. They had to buy them, regardless of how overpriced they were.

“How are we gonna be able to afford all this stuff?” he asked, a trace of worry in his voice as he set the diapers down and continued on with her.

“Well, we can always go to Walmart for diapers,” she suggested. “It’s gotta be cheaper there, right?”

“I don’t know.”

It probably hadn’t been a good idea to veer back into this section, but whenever they went anywhere together, it was hard not to. They were loading up on baby supplies gradually, but the toys were a lot more fun to buy than the necessities were. “We’ll just have to budget,” she said as she pushed the cart along in front of her. “We can do it.”

“Hopefully,” he said as he shuffled along behind her. “Alright, so what’s next on the Christmas list?”

Clarke checked the notepad on her phone and replied, “Lingerie for Harper. She wants to spice things up in the bedroom with Monty. You can help me pick that out.”

“I can?” he said.

“Yeah. Just tell me what looks sexy.”

He chuckled, put his hand on her back, and suggested, “You know, you could always model the lingerie for me.”

“I feel like a blimp,” she warned him.

“So that’s a no then?”

“That’s a _hell_ no.” She wasn’t modeling anything unless they were in the privacy of their own home, just the two of them. Besides, dressing room mirrors were notoriously unflattering. “So what do you think your sister wants?” she asked him, strolling towards the women’s undergarments.

Bellamy grunted. “The freedom to punch her professors in the face?”

“Well, I need to get her something.” It’d been years since she’d gotten Octavia a Christmas present. Thirteen year-old Octavia had been a fan of glittery eyeshadow, but eighteen year-old Octavia probably wanted something different. “What does she like?”

Bellamy was absolutely no help as he rattled off responses. “Kickboxing. Annoying me. Lincoln. Just get her a shrine of Lincoln.”

“I’ll get her . . . some stuff for her dorm room, maybe,” she pondered as they strode on up to some furniture and accessories. “Have you seen it? Is it cute or crappy?”

“It’s pretty crappy,” he said. “I don’t think she’s there very much.”

Clarke stopped and picked up a dark blue pillow off of a display couch. “Well, some nice throw pillows never hurt anyone,” she said. “Or a comfy blanket.” She touched the fluffy blanket draped over the back, letting out a little, “Ooh,” when she felt how soft it was.

“Comfy blanket costs forty dollars,” he said, showing her the price.

“Oh.” Withdrawing her hand, Clarke decided, “She can get a less expensive comfy blanket then.”

The shopping probably took longer than it should have. Bellamy, to his credit, didn’t complain . . . much. He didn’t really find any gifts, mostly because he was dead-set on doing thrift store shopping and finding some online deals on Cyber Monday. He was basically just there to keep her company, and because he was being such a good sport about it, she did give in and model _one_ piece of lingerie for him.

When they got up to the check-out, Clarke could barely believe her eyes when she spotted who was behind one of the counters. “Oh my god, Bellamy, look,” she said, pointing ahead.

“What?”

“It’s Finn.” His hair was long enough now that he was trying out a man-bun. Clarke wasn’t really sure it was working for him.

“I thought he was a janitor,” Bellamy said.

“He must work here now.” For his sake—and the sake of her future child support checks, if she decided to accept them—she hoped this job was paying more. But how could it? Weren’t store cashiers kind of dying out anyway since so many places were doing self-checkouts now?

She was more than happy to go to one of those self-checkout stations, but Bellamy grabbed hold of the cart as she started to push it in that direction. “Wait, what’re you doing?” he said.

“Avoiding him,” she answered. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Why?” he challenged. “Let’s go show him how good you’re doing without him.” He took the side of the cart and re-angled it in the direction of Finn’s counter, and even though his line was longer than the one next to it, they stood in it and waited. Clarke was a little nervous about . . . well, sort of rubbing her own contentedness in his face. But then she figured, why not? Finn had left her to fend for herself, and she was happy to show him that she was doing fine. And that she wasn’t even _by_ herself thanks to Bellamy.

“Clarke,” her ex said once they got to the front of the line.

“Finn.” She and Bellamy had already loaded their items, so she just stood there expectantly, waiting to see if he’d actually start scanning them or just continue to look at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I work here now,” he said.

“I see that.” She wondered if he was going to be stuck working jobs like this the rest of his life. Had he not dropped out after his sophomore year, he’d be on track to graduate either this spring or maybe next December; but he’d been so insistent that he needed a break from college, that he just needed one year off. But clearly one year was morphing into two years. Knowing Finn, it’d be hard to find the motivation to go back.

“How have you been?” he asked her as he finally started scanning her items. He moved slowly, though, like a turtle.

“Fine,” she replied readily. “Better than fine, actually.” She peeked over at Bellamy, but he appeared to be all engrossed in the candy.

“That’s good,” Finn said. “And the baby? Everything’s . . . normal?”

“Everything’s great.” She hadn’t had any more issues with spotting, but even if she did . . . he wouldn’t be the first, second, or even third person to know.

“Did you find out if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” Finn asked.

“No,” she answered.

“Oh. Are you gonna find out?”

“Maybe.” It was so weird to hear him asking these questions about a baby that was technically _theirs_ , but he was leaving everything, absolutely _everything_ , up to her.

“Well, let me know if you do,” he said. “They have some cribs here. Did you see ‘em?”

“Yeah, but we’re not gonna buy one.”

“I’m gonna make one,” Bellamy piped up suddenly, plopping a Hershey’s bar down on the checkout counter.

“You . . . make cribs?” Finn asked him.

“I’m in construction. I can do it,” Bellamy declared. Clarke wasn’t sure whether he actually had any knowledge of how to build one or not, but she loved his confidence that he could figure it out.

“That’s . . . great,” Finn said, forcing a smile at Bellamy. He was acting nice enough, but Clarke sensed some tension. Finn didn’t want to be a father, but he didn’t seem to love that someone else was stepping in and being one in his place, either.

“You might wanna hurry up,” Bellamy advised. “You got a line forming.”

Finn looked behind them and said, “Oh, right,” then started to scan the items faster. He screwed something up, and the register started beeping at him. His manager had to come over and help him sort it out, and Clarke could tell Bellamy was trying his hardest not to laugh.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke was so used to her bladder waking her up in the middle of the night that it didn’t even annoy her as much anymore. She still wished she could ignore it, of course, but when the option was either getting up or wetting the bed, there was no decision to be made.

Oddly, Bellamy wasn’t lying next to her when she sat up and rubbed her eyes; so as badly as she had to pee, she managed to hold it as she padded out of the room. She though he might be downstairs until she saw a sliver of light coming from the other bedroom. Tiptoeing to the door, she peeked inside and saw him standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looked around with a thoughtful expression on his face. There wasn’t much to see in that room yet. In fact, they were mainly just using it as a storage room for some of the baby supplies they’d already purchased. But someday, it was going to be something.

****

_On her way back from the drinking fountain, Clarke walked by the gym and saw her boyfriend just standing there near the bleachers, looking up at the banners hanging over the visitor’s side. She knew exactly what one he was looking at, too. The new one. The one that proclaimed this year’s football team as the state runner-ups. It would hang there for years, possibly forever, to commemorate what no one was going to deny had been an amazing season._

_“That’s a nice banner,” she remarked as she walked into the gym._

_His eyes didn’t leave it, not even for a second. “Kinda big,” he said._

_“Well, it’s a big accomplishment.”_

_“I know,” he said, letting out a heavy sigh. “But I wanted to accomplish more.”_

_It really sucked that they hadn’t been able to get that one final victory, and it sucked even more that the game had ended on an interception he’d thrown. But she really hoped there would come a day when he was able to look back on this season and feel proud about what he’d done rather than feeling disappointed. “You know what I think is gonna happen?” she said. “I think you’re gonna go to college, and you guys are gonna play in the championship, and you’re gonna win there.”_

_He shook his head and muttered, “UCF never gets to play in the championship. Even though they’re good enough.”_

_UCF. She hadn’t mentioned that school by name. “So is that where you’re going then?” she asked him. “Is it for sure now?”_

_“Well, I haven’t formally committed,” he said, “and you can’t tell anyone, but . . . yeah, I’m ninety-five percent sure.”_

_UCF. Central Florida. She pictured the geographic distance that would exist between them and allowed herself a moment of sadness as she said, “That’s so far away.” She wasn’t about to stand there and feel sorry for herself, though, not when football was Bellamy’s ticket to higher education. “It’ll be perfect for you, though,” she said. “I bet you’ll love it there.”_

_“I think I will,” he said, finally looking away from the banner. His eyes took on more of their usual flirtatiousness as he asked her, “Are you skipping class right now?”_

_“No.” She held up the water fountain pass from Mr. Moore’s room and said, “I was getting a quick drink.” If her biology teacher was at all observant, he’d definitely realize that her quick drink had turned into the longest drink in human history, though._

_“Oh, so you’re thirsty.” Her boyfriend grinned teasingly._

_“Bellamy.” She knew that look, knew what it meant. “What class are_ you _supposed to be in?”_

_“Doesn’t matter,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Let’s go hook up.”_

_“Bellamy!” she squealed, laughing as she swept her up off her feet and whisked her out of the gym, probably to the nearest closet where they could be alone. She tried not to be too loud, but . . . good God, being with him was just such a good time._

****

Pushing the door open, Clarke asked Bellamy, “Why are you up already?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. “I was thinking about this nursery. I gotta get to work on it.”

“I’m only in my second trimester, you know,” she pointed out. They had time.

“Yeah, but that’s gonna fly by,” he predicted. Motioning grandly to the east wall, next to the window, he said, “I think the crib should go right here. And then over here would be the changing table. I can try to make that, too.”

“You don’t have to make everything,” she told him.

“I could make shelves, though. For books and toys and stuff,” he offered. “I could make a toy box.”

It sounded like he was creating a whole lot of work for himself, but if he wanted to do it, then who was she to say no? “A toy box would be good,” she said, wondering if this sudden surge of ideas had anything to do with seeing Finn at the store today.

“You know, I always got good grades in shop classes back in high school,” he said. “One of the only classes I excelled at.”

“Well, you’re good with your hands,” she pointed out.

“Yeah. _Yeah_.” He laughed a little as he understood her double entendre.

She shuffled into the room and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back. “Imagine if you hadn’t come back,” she said, “and I was just doing this all on my own.”

“Ah, you’re pretty tough,” he said, putting his hands atop hers. “You’d manage.”

“I know. But this is a lot better.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, uncoiled her arms from around him, and headed out of the room in the direction of the bathroom.

“Are you gonna go pee?” he called after her.

“Yeah.”

“Second time or third?”

“It’s only the fourth,” she yelled back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although Bellamy was sure his dorm room hadn’t exactly smelled the greatest back in the day, Octavia’s had to be worse. Her roommate, for the most part, seemed to keep her half pretty clean, but his sister’s half was covered in trash and dirty clothes, and it just reeked. He tried to disguise his disgust when she opened up the door and ushered him inside for their brother/sister hangout time, but while she walked around and did her pathetic version of cleaning, he found himself sitting at her desk, rummaging around the drawers for some Febreze or an air freshener or _something_.

“So what’re we getting Mom for Christmas?” she asked as she stripped the sheets off her bed.

“Oh, I don’t know what _you’re_ getting her, but I already got my gifts,” he boasted. His mom was going to be the proud owner of a new microwave that had only cost him twenty bucks at the thrift store.

“But I thought we were gonna get her something nice together,” she said.

Oh, he knew his sister well enough to know that that just meant he’d spend the money on something nice and they’d both get to put their names on it. Same thing had happened last year when he’d gotten her this authentic “Gift of Italy” basket.

“You’ll find something,” he said, willing to let her fend for herself this year. Hey, she wanted to go around acting like she was a full-fledged adult now, so she could buy her own gifts just like adults did.

“I have no idea what to get her,” Octavia grumbled, balling up her dirty sheets and tossing them in her already overstuffed hamper.

The gifts had never been what mattered for their family, though. Spending time together, as cheesy as it sounded, was what Christmas was really all about. “Hey, you’re not gonna go runnin’ off like you did on Thanksgiving, right?” he said. “You should spend Christmas with your family.”

“Lincoln’s part of my family now,” she pointed out.

“No, he’s not,” he argued. “Lincoln’s your boyfriend.”

“And Clarke’s your girlfriend, but don’t you consider her family?”

He fell silent for a moment because . . . damn, she had him there. “That’s different,” he insisted. “Clarke and I have known each other for years.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t speak for five of them.”

Sighing heavily, he muttered, “Great, so you’re spending Christmas with Lincoln.”

“No, I’m spending Christmas _Eve_ with Lincoln,” she informed him, using her foot to kick a sweatshirt under her bed. “I’m spending Christmas _Day_ at home. Nice long Christmas break, and then second semester . . .” She looked around her room and rolled her eyes. “Screw this place.”

“What do you mean?” Immediately, he sat up straighter, the hairs on the back of his neck rising in alarm. “You’re not dropping out.”

“No, but I’m not staying here,” she said. “I’m moving out of the dorms.”

He made a face. “Are you moving back home?”

“No. I’m gonna go live with Lincoln.”

_Oh_. Of fucking course. How had he not seen this coming? “Does Mom know?” he asked her.

“I’m gonna tell her over break,” she said.

He gave her a skeptical look and shook his head.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” she said. “Besides, living on campus is expensive. I’ll save money this way.”

“Octavia, I just saw you kick your dirty laundry underneath your bed. Do you really think you’re ready to be living out on your own?”

“I won’t be on my own,” she insisted. “I’ll have--”

“Lincoln. I know.” God, she was really putting all her eggs in that guy’s basket, wasn’t she?

“Hey, Bellamy?” she said softly, her face taking on a different expression. “You know how Clarke’s mom makes you feel?”

_Like crap?_ he thought. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s kind of how you’re making me feel.”

_Shit_. He didn’t mean to make her feel that way. It was hypocritical as fuck, and he wanted to try to be more supportive. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t dislike you boyfriend, O. I just wish he was half a decade younger.”

“Well, think of it this way,” she said. “At least I’ll be moving in with a mature, responsible adult.”

“True.” By all accounts, Lincoln seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and he had a job, a steady paycheck. “Mature, responsible adult,” he mused. “That is good. Because you’re none of those things.”

She reached back under the bed, grabbed her sweatshirt, and chucked it at him. But it felt good to tease and annoy her. At least that didn’t make her feel like crap. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone feeling that way. Except for maybe Finn.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ow!” Bellamy yelped.

On top of him, Clarke sat back a bit. “What?”

“Your boob,” he said.

“My boob’s fine.”

“No, it hit me in the face.”

“It did?”

“Yeah, it was like a huge, swinging sandbag.” He held his hand over his right eye, pretending to be more injured than he actually was.

She burst into laughter and climbed off of him, lying down beside him instead. Sex with Clarke involved a lot of laughter. Despite how well they knew each other’s bodies, they still bumped heads sometimes, got their limbs tangled, or in cases like this, he took a boob to the face. It didn’t always have to be something so fluid and sexy, like straight out of a porno. His and Clarke’s sex life together was just _fun_.

“Oh, good, you’re laughing,” he said. “Right after I said that, I was worried it’d piss you off.”

“No, they are like sandbags,” she admitted cupping her hands around her chest. “They just keep growing. And I have, like, no control over them right now.”

“They’re nice,” he said. “They’re just . . . heavy.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she grumbled.

Removing his hand from his eye, he looked over at her and jokingly asked, “Am I bruising?”

“No.”

“No?” In that case, he’d gladly have that chest of hers up in his face again then. He wasn’t even really sure if he’d been trying to motorboat her or not, but now that the idea was in his head, he was down for it.

“Oh, it’s getting harder, isn’t it?” she said. “To have sexy times.”

“All my times with you are sexy times,” he claimed, leaning over to give her a sloppy kiss. Unfortunately, before he could reverse their positions and climb on top of her—because he could still do that as long as he didn’t put all his weight on her—the doorbell rang out shrilly, and he groaned.

“You go get it,” she said.

These days, he pretty much just did what his princess told him to do, so he got right out of bed, tugged on a pair of sweatpants, and treaded downstairs to find out who had the audacity to interrupt their precious, oh-so-important sexy time.

When he opened the door, he found Raven and Murphy on the other side. Raven looked to her boyfriend and said, “See, I told you he’d be here.”

Murphy held up _The Game of Life_ —an old, beat-up version—and droned unenthusiastically, “You ready for game night?”

“Game night?” Bellamy echoed. They hadn’t planned any game night.

“We were bored,” Raven explained, letting herself in. She hollered Clarke’s name up the stairs, and Murphy just shrugged and mumbled something about doing what his girlfriend said as he came inside, too.

There was nothing inherently wrong with game night. Bellamy was a competitive guy, so any chance he had to win _anything_ was fine by him. But _Life_ had never been his favorite game. It lacked the aggression of _Sorry_ and the straightforwardness of Checkers. They played as duos, though, Raven and Murphy versus him and Clarke, and that at least made it mildly more entertaining. Because he and Clarke landed on a Baby Girl space, and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that was foreshadowing something.

“Remember when it was your freshman year of college, my sophomore?” Raven said. “And we’d just go out, like, every weekend.”

“It wasn’t like we were getting wasted, though,” Clarke said as she straightened out what little money she and Bellamy had accumulated so far in the game.

“No, but we were still living it up,” Raven said. “Now look at us. Sitting around your coffee table playing a board game. We’re old, Clarke.”

“Not as old as this one,” Clarke said, motioning to Bellamy.

“Huh?” he said, only halfway listening as he surveyed the game board.

“See? He’s already losing his hearing.”

“No, I’m strategizing,” he said. “Because if we go this way, we could have another kid, but if we go this other way, we could win the lottery.”

“Your choice,” she told him.

Well, money couldn’t buy happiness and all that, so he shrugged and moved their little car game piece along the path that landed them on a Baby Boy space. His fingers were too big to stick the little blue peg into the car, though, so he had to hand it to Clarke so she could do it for him.

“You take the kids. I’ll take the money,” Murphy said as he spun the wheel. He got a nine, and that moved him right onto a payday space. He hadn’t seemed too enthused about playing once they’d started, but now that he and Raven were collecting lots of money, he was into it a lot more.

“So what’re you guys doing this weekend?” Raven asked them. “I heard there’s gonna be a trivia night on campus. We should go. Takes four people to make a team.”

“Then you’ll have to recruit Harper and Monty,” Clarke told her. “My dad’s invited us to spend the weekend with him. At his place. With his girlfriend. To make up for not being together on Thanksgiving and to have our Christmas celebration a couple weeks early.” She hoped her tone accurate conveyed her dread, because . . . Alyssa being part of the holiday celebrations this year? So weird.

“Sounds like a picnic,” Murphy muttered sarcastically.

“It’ll be fine,” Bellamy insisted, determined not to get too stressed out about it. “You love your dad. I like your dad. Your dad likes me. We’ll get through it.” It was just for a few days. Besides, he was kind of eager to see this living room pool Clarke had told him her dad now had.

“Well, damn,” Raven said. “They always ask a lot of sports questions at those trivia things. Would’ve been nice to have you there for that, Bellamy. And you for the art questions, Clarke, of course.”

“Miller knows sports,” Bellamy pointed out. “Get him to do it.”

“Maybe,” Raven said, shrugging. “Hmm, okay, how close are we to winning?”

“Mmm, you know what?” Clarke twisted her torso to the side, stretching out a bit. “We might just have to declare you guys the winners early,” she said. “My back’s kind of hurting.”

“Cramped up again?” Bellamy asked, reaching over to rub it where it hurt her the most often.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna need to go lie down for the night,” she said. “Sorry, guys, but I think the baby wants us to cut game night short.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Raven said, quickly cleaning up. “Understandable.”

“Yeah, we’ll just go home and celebrate our victory.” Murphy wriggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Raven snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’ve gotta work tomorrow. I’m goin’ to bed.”

Murphy’s excited expression fell, and he mumbled, “Fine, I’ll celebrate by myself then.”

Something told Bellamy that wasn’t anything new. He had to admit, as odd as it had been for him to see Raven with someone other than Zeke at first . . . she and this Murphy kid made a pretty good couple. In their own weird way. She was beautiful; he was not. She was book-smart, but he had his YouTube thing. They kind of balanced each other out, like an opposites attract thing.

After their friends had packed up the game and left for the night, Bellamy followed Clarke upstairs into the bedroom and offered, “You want me to heat up that back pad for you?” She had this sandbag—a _literal_ sandbag this time, not her boob sandbag—that he put in the microwave for about a minute, and then she laid with it on her back to ease the cramping.

Much to his surprise, though, she said, “Nope,” and pushed him down onto the bed.

“What’s this?” he said, marveling as she crawled on top of him and straddled his hips. “I thought your back hurt.”

“It doesn’t,” she admitted, circling her groin against his.

“So that was a lie?” he teased. “You’re a liar?”

“A white lie,” she said innocently. “I just wanted to get you alone.” Her mouth was a smile as it descended down atop his, kissing him deeply and passionately. Oh, his girlfriend . . . she was pretty horny for him under normal circumstances, but she definitely had the increased sex drive going on that some women reported during the second trimester. And he definitely wasn’t complaining.


	28. Chapter 28

_Chapter 28_

It was nice for Clarke to be able to just sit in the passenger’s seat on the way to her dad’s, especially since it was snowing pretty steadily and she wasn’t the best at driving in any sort of inclement weather. Usually when she went to Baltimore to see him, she went alone, so she had to drive. Finn had gone with her once, but he’d been hungover, so she’d still ended up behind the wheel. But with Bellamy driving, she was able to doze off a little bit in the passenger’s seat. Or, “resting her eyes,” as she liked to call it.

Bellamy must not have known that she was trying to snooze, because at one point when they were still about an hour and a half away, he turned down the radio and asked her, “So why exactly did your mom and dad get a divorce?”

She lifted her head from where it rested against the window and looked over at him, surprised by the question.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “I’m just curious.”

That divorce was a pretty long story, one she wasn’t about to rehash in detail. So instead she summed it up with, “Things just . . . deteriorated. They weren’t seeing eye to eye on some stuff. Eventually, they just decided they were better off going their separate ways.”

“Huh. I never would’ve pictured that,” he said as he changed lanes to pass a slower-moving vehicle in front of them. “I like Kane, though. Kane’s cool. You think he’ll propose to your mom on Christmas?”

“Maybe. Or New Year’s.” Either one seemed like a reasonable possibility at this point. “He’s been sending me pictures of possible rings, wants to know which one she’d like best.”

“Interesting,” Bellamy said. “But your dad and his girlfriend aren’t engaged, right? They’re just dating.”

“Last I heard. But she’s a little Anna Nicole Smith if I’ve ever seen one. I wouldn’t be surprised if she convinces him to put a ring on it.” Clarke rolled her eyes, hoping that at least one of her parents would just run off to Vegas and do a quick wedding. That way she wouldn’t have to stand there and be a part of two of them. It wouldn’t be her mom, though. Her mom would want the formal ceremony, which was actually fine by her. As far as stepparents went, Kane was miles ahead of Alyssa.

Once they got into the city, Clarke did her best to direct Bellamy to her dad’s house. She always got turned around, so of course they ended up taking the scenic route. As the houses got bigger, though, she knew they were getting close. “Turn right up here,” she told him.

He put on the brake a little too quickly, and their car fishtailed on the ice as it approached the corner. “Whoa,” he said, holding the wheel tightly.

“Jesus, Bellamy,” she swore, reaching for the dashboard to hold on tight. “I thought you said you were good at winter driving.”

“I am,” he insisted.

“Well, apparently you’re not.”

He managed to get the car under control and took the turn onto her dad’s street very slowly. “Oh, is this gonna be one of _those_ weekends?” he asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, one of those weekends where you get pissed and I just have to put up with it because you get to claim it’s all because of pregnancy hormones?” He gave her a knowing look.

“Probably,” she muttered, feeling a bit bad for snapping at him about his driving. “Why? You got a problem with that?”

“Nope,” he said. “Just know that you’ve only got a couple months left, and then that excuse goes out the window.”

“It’s not an excuse, Bellamy,” she snapped again. “It’s a real biological change. It sucks.” She sat up straighter, angling her whole body towards him as the words just poured out of her mouth. “Do you think I like this? Do you think I like sitting here yelling at you right now? I don’t. I realize I’m like a crazy person, okay? But this is a high-stress weekend, and I’ve got a lot of stress to deal with even under normal circumstances.”

“It doesn’t have to be stressful,” he reminded her. “You get to spend time with your dad.”

“You say that like it’s a privilege.”

“Well, I’ve never spent time with my dad,” he mumbled quietly, “so . . .”

Well, when he brought up _that_ fact, she felt like a spoiled brat for doing any complaining at all. “Okay, now I just feel guilty,” she admitted.

“No, don’t,” he said. “I’m just saying . . . perspective, you know.”

“Okay.” She was lucky, she supposed, to still have two parents who loved her, even if they didn’t love each other anymore. “I’ll try to calm down,” she promised, pointing down to the end of the cul-de-sac where her dad’s massive house loomed large over all the others. He had a huge rock in the front yard now that said _Griffin_ on it, and it looked like he even had a fountain under construction. By the time he was done doing all the work he wanted to do on that house, it was going to look like a fancy hotel.

Bellamy’s relative silence upon seeing the house pretty much said it all. Clarke had warned him that it was ridiculous—but beautiful, of course—but until somebody saw it with their own two eyes, they really couldn’t imagine how spectacular it was. Every little detail of that place was just extravagant in its own way, from the ornate numbers next to the door indicating their address to the perfectly-manicured lawn. Clarke knew her dad and Alyssa weren’t responsible for the upkeep of this place. They had maids, gardeners, a full-on staff to make sure their home always remained this pristine.

“You got all the presents?” she asked Bellamy after her closed the trunk.

“Yeah,” he said. “Be careful.”

The below-freezing temperatures were making the ground more slippery than it otherwise would have been, so she held onto his arm for extra support as they headed up the sidewalk to the front door. “I shouldn’t have worn heels,” she said. “I get off-balance enough as it is.”

“I got you,” he said, walking slowly with her. “So this whole place is his house?”

“Yep.” She understood why he felt the need to ask that, though, since it was big enough for multiple families.

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head in astonishment. “And here I thought your mom’s house was big.”

“Just wait ‘til you see the inside,” she told him. It didn’t become any less lavish in there.

It ended up being Alyssa who came to the door to let them in. She was dressed up, legitimately _dressed up_ , in a long, flowing off-red skirt and a white midriff halter. _And here I thought it was a casual weekend_ , Clarke thought, suddenly second-guessing the Christmas shirt and jeans she’d worn. A nice pair of shoes didn’t hide the fact that she was otherwise looking like crap.

“Clarke!” Alyssa exclaimed, immediately enveloping her in a hug. “Hey! So good to see you again.”

_Oh my god_ , Clarke thought enviously. The woman even smelled like Christmas. Like sugar cookies or something. But it was doubtful she’d been laboring away in the kitchen all morning. She probably just had some special lotion or perfume or something.

“And you must be Bellamy,” Alyssa said, taking a step back. “Jake’s told me all about you.”

“Oh, good things, I hope,” Bellamy said.

“I’m Alyssa. Come on in,” their hostess said, ushering them inside. “You can go ahead and take off your shoes. Here, let me take these from you.” She took the gift sacks out of Bellamy’s hands and added, “You guys didn’t need to bring anything.”

“Yeah, we probably didn’t,” Bellamy said, looking around. The entryway alone was amazing, and it was all decked out in Christmas decorations. It had to have been professionally done.

“Where’s my dad?” Clarke asked.

“He’s just finishing up with the Christmas tree,” Alyssa said. “Come on.” She led them past the giant staircase and through a set of double doors into what probably served as their living room. But it was too big to just be that. It was like a freaking hotel lobby.

“Jake, look who’s here!” Alyssa bubbled.

Clarke smiled at her dad, and he climbed down the small stepladder he’d been using to put a beautiful angel on top of the evergreen. The tree he and Alyssa had was so gigantic that even someone as big as her dad couldn’t reach the top of it. “Is that my daughter?” he said. “Prettier than any angel on this tree, I’ll tell you that.” He crossed the living room and said, “Come here, sweetheart,” then gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

“Early Christmas,” she pointed out. They still had a couple weeks to go until the real thing.

“I’m just glad we found a weekend that worked for this,” her dad said. As he released her from his embrace, his eyes settled on Bellamy, and his smile changed a bit. “Hi, Bellamy.”

“Hi,” Bellamy returned.

_Kinda weird_ , Clarke thought. They hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Uh, tree looks nice,” Bellamy remarked.

“Well, thank you,” her father said. “You grew a beard.”

“I did.”

There was a moment of awkward silence after that, because really, what more could be said about Bellamy’s beard? Clarke was actually thankful when Alyssa broke into it and said, “Let’s go ahead and put these presents under the tree. We’ll open them before you guys leave on Sunday.” She set all the sacks down underneath the tree, next to some presents that looked to have been meticulously gift-wrapped. Again, Clarke refused to believe that that was something Alyssa had done on her own, and she knew for a fact that her dad didn’t wrap. So they must have had someone do that for them. “We’ve got some stuff for you guys, too,” Alyssa said, motioning to the gifts, “and I got something for your mom.”

“For my mom?” Clarke echoed, nearly laughing. “Oh, well, she will . . . I’m sure she’ll just love that.” She could just imagine the look on her mother’s face on Christmas morning when she picked up a present from her ex-husband’s new girlfriend. It might not even get opened, to be honest.

“Did she put her tree up yet?” her dad asked.

“No. She has a silver one now, though,” Clarke informed him.

“Silver?”

“Yeah. It’s really an eyesore, if you ask me.” Her mom _hated_ real trees, though. The first Christmas of the divorce—or _separation_ , as Clarke had hoped it would be at the time—she hadn’t hesitated to go out and buy a fake tree.

“Huh,” her father said, shaking his head as he pictured a silver Christmas tree. If he was imagining something that looked like tin foil, then he wasn’t far off. “Well, Bellamy, what do you say? You wanna have a drink?” he invited, moseying on over to . . . a minibar. He had a minibar in his living room. It paled in comparison to the full-fledged bar he had down by the pool, but still . . . they could just sit and have drinks right there.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Bellamy said, following him.

“I got my own wine cellar,” her dad boasted. “Pulled a few bottles up before you came.” He set them all out on the counter and said, “Go ahead and take a look, tell me which one you wanna start with.”

Bellamy wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but Clarke still saw a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He enjoyed an alcoholic beverage or two. Always had.

“You should go drink something, too,” she told Alyssa. “I mean, I would if I could.”

“Oh, no,” Alyssa said quietly. “I . . . I can’t.”

“Why not?” She wasn’t, like, a recovering alcoholic or something, was she?

Alyssa didn’t say anything, but when her hand came up to rest on her stomach, realization just clicked into place for Clarke.

“Oh my god,” she said in astonishment, her jaw practically dropping to the floor. “Are _you_ pregnant?”

At the bar, both Bellamy and Jake froze, and for a few seconds, nobody said anything. Finally, Alyssa smiled and exclaimed, “Ten weeks now! We were gonna tell you at some point this weekend.”

Clarke stared at the other woman’s stomach in disbelief, because . . . she was wearing a freaking midriff dress today. She wasn’t showing yet at all. But some women were just lucky that way, and apparently Alyssa was one of them. Apparently _Alyssa_ was _pregnant_.

“Dad?” she shrieked, shooting her father an alarmed look. Was this a joke or something? Or were they being serious?

“It’s true,” he said, grinning from ear to ear now. “You’re gonna be an older sister.”

Alyssa squealed excitedly, and Clarke just stood there like an idiot, stunned, not really sure what to do or what to say. Bellamy had the right idea when he uncorked one of the wine bottles and took a big drink.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As if having his own wine cellar and indoor pool weren’t enough, Clarke’s father also had his own home movie theater. He suggested, after a particularly quiet and awkward dinner, that the four of them retire there for a while to watch something festive. He had all of the _Home Alone_ movies, even though the first two were the only good ones, along with _A Christmas Story, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, It’s a Wonderful Life,_ and many more holiday classics. He urged Clarke to pick, but she literally did not care what they watched, so Bellamy ended up picking for her, and Bellamy picked _Die Hard_. He claimed that was a Christmas movie, too. Surely he’d seen it before, but his eyes were glued to the screen. Either he was seriously into it, or he was grateful to have a distraction.

Nothing could distract Clarke, though. _Die Hard_ wasn’t her type of movie in the first place, so it wasn’t like it was something that could hold her attention. She just sat there with Bellamy on a very plush, reclining couch, well aware of the fact that her dad and Alyssa were sitting behind them, huddled together under a blanket, all cozy and coupley. With their baby.

Yeah. That was still head-spinning.

****

_Forehead pulsing lightly, Clarke meandered out of her room, in search of some Tylenol._

_“Clarke?” her mom called from downstairs. “You’re still awake?”_

_“Yeah.” The light from the TV was on, so apparently she wasn’t the only one. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said as she shuffled down the stairs. “I kept dreaming about all the finals I have next week. It’s stressing me out.” Last year, she’d been a lot more prepared; this year, she was balancing school and a boyfriend, and that made it harder to find time to study. “Did you have finals when you were in high school?” she asked her mom, feeling like exam requirements had to have become more stringent over the years._

_“Some,” her mom said. “But I don’t think they were as hard as they are now.”_

Of course not, _Clarke thought bitterly. Every year, the standards for students just kept going up. They were expected to know more and more all the time, and as much as she did enjoy learning . . . sometimes it was nice to just lose herself in her drawing class, or in choir. The fine arts didn’t get nearly enough attention._

_“Come here, sit down,” her mom said, patting the couch cushion._

_Even though she had yet to get that Tylenol she felt like she so desperately needed, Clarke took a seat and looked up at the TV to see what her mom was watching. She’d expected a Hallmark holiday movie, because her mom watched a lot of those cheesy things this time of year. But instead, she saw something more recognizable, old video footage from her parents’ wedding day. “You just randomly watch this?” she asked._

_“Sometimes.” Her mom smiled, a reminiscent look in her eyes. “Especially when he’s gone for work and I’m missing him.”_

_Clarke had seen this whole video before, but it was always kind of fun to look at what they’d worn, how they’d styled their hair, and to hear them say their vows. They’d just gone with the traditional ones, though, which Clarke thought were kind of outdated at this point. They would never_ not _work, of course, but she definitely wanted to write her own vows someday. “Neither one of you really looks that different,” she commented, hoping that her genetics were as good as theirs. Especially her mom’s. The woman could probably still fit in the same wedding dress._

_“Well, thank you for saying that,” her mom said. Reaching over, she touched Clarke’s hair and said, “You know, someday we’ll be at your wedding. You’ll be the one in a pretty white dress. Hopefully one that doesn’t end up looking as dated as mine.”_

_“Yeah, someday,” Clarke said quietly, though she wondered how her mom would feel if she ended up marrying someone who wasn’t a man. It didn’t seem likely at this point since she’d never even tried dating a girl, but . . . well, one of these days, she was going to work up the courage to be honest with them about her bisexuality. One of these days._

_“I don’t want you to be in any big hurry, though,” her mom added quickly._

_“I’m not.” Sure, she sketched out wedding dresses once in a while, but she also sketched prom dresses. And sexy outfits that she wished she could sew just so she could wear them for Bellamy._

_“That’s good,” her mom said. “Because this year . . . oh, sometimes I just feel like your life’s flying right by me at a hundred miles an hour. And I can’t keep up.”_

_Clarke made a face. “Why? Just because I started dating Bellamy?” Yeah, that had changed some things for sure, but it didn’t change_ everything. _“We’re not idiots, Mom. We know he’s gonna graduate and I’m still gonna be in high school,” she said. “We know he’s gonna go to college, and we’re gonna be apart, and . . . you’ll get what you want.” Lowering her head, she looked at her lap and mumbled, “We won’t be together forever.”_

_“I didn’t say that’s what I want,” her mom made sure to note._

_“You didn’t have to.” She’d overheard enough conversations between her parents at this point to know that neither one of them was all aboard the Bellamy Blake bandwagon. It didn’t matter how many times he came over for dinner or how polite he tried to be. They were still just counting down the days until he left for college._

_“Well, I just . . . I don’t want you to end up with someone whose entire success in life depends on his ability to throw a football down a field,” her mom said. “That’s all.”_

_“There’s a lot more to him than that,” Clarke argued. Being a football player was just, like, one small aspect of who Bellamy was. If her mom really got to know him, she’d know that he loved history, despite having difficulties reading about it. She’d know that the spring play director at school was_ desperately _trying to get him to audition, because she’d heard him speak at pep rallies and thought he’d have incredible stage presence. She’d know that he was the type of guy who stood up to bullies and bigots and anyone else in their school who wanted to put people down just for being different. Bellamy Blake wasn’t just a good football player; he was a good_ guy. _He wasn’t popular solely because of his good looks and athleticism. People liked him so much because he was nice._

_“I’m just saying . . .” Her mom trailed off, sighing frustratedly. “No, you know what? We spend enough time not seeing eye to eye when it comes to that boy,” she said. “Let’s just . . . let’s just watch the video. Okay?”_

_Clarke didn’t say anything, but her eyes flittered back up to the screen in time to watch her dad place the ring on her mom’s finger. The version they liked to sell her was that they’d waited until their wedding night to have sex, and that they’d never slept with anyone until each other. But Clarke was highly skeptical of all of that. Sometimes they just liked to pretend that they were perfect._

****

“You doin’ okay?”

Clarke managed a nod when Bellamy’s arm gave her shoulders a little squeeze, but it couldn’t have looked convincing. She was barely even looking at the screen anymore because her mind was so elsewhere. This just seemed stupid to be sitting here with some dumb action movie on, pretending to watch that when, really, there were some important things to talk about.

Turning around, she blurted out to Alyssa, “So if you’re ten weeks along, does that mean you’ve had an ultrasound?”

Alyssa seemed a bit taken aback by the suddenness of the question. “Uh, yeah, we had our first one at week eight,” she said. “I’ll have to show you the pictures.”

“Hmm.” She squeezed out a smile, even though she knew that there was very little to actually see on an ultrasound at that point. In fact, unless you were getting the 3D ones, everything just sort of looked blobby.

Clarke was only able to pretend to watch the movie for about seven more seconds before she spun back around and asked, “Was this, like, a planned thing then or just an accident?”

Alyssa laughed nervously. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it an _accident_.”

“But it wasn’t planned?” If her dad had actually agreed to this at his age . . . well, that was just irresponsible, wasn’t it? He was fifty-one years old. By the time the kid went to college, he’d be seventy.

“No, it wasn’t planned,” Alyssa said slowly. “Was yours?”

_Oh, bitch, don’t even try to turn this back around on me_ , Clarke thought heatedly. This _so_ wasn’t about her right now. “Dad, how are you gonna tell Mom?” she went on, not sure how her mother was going to react to all of this.

“To be honest, I was hoping you’d do it for me,” he confessed.

“Oh, that’s nice.” He wanted her to be the bearer of the news just so he didn’t have to deal with any of his ex-wife’s backlash, huh? How convenient.

“Well, it might be better if she hears it from you,” he said.

“You should tell her yourself, Jake,” Alyssa urged. “Don’t make Clarke do it.”

“Yeah, don’t make me do it.” It was possible that her mom would just laugh and wish him luck, but it was also possible that she’d rant and rage about it for weeks.

“Okay, I’ll tell her myself,” her dad reluctantly decided, but Clarke didn’t really believe it. He’d probably just prolong it until Clarke got fed up and told her mom everything.

Nearly completely turned around to talk to them now, Clarke just kept rambling, every thought and complaint she had about this situation just spilling out of her mouth, one word after another. “And do you realize that your baby’s gonna be the aunt or the uncle of _my_ baby?” she pointed out. “We’re gonna be one of those families now with the screwed up genetic tree.”

Beside her, Bellamy tried to get her to turn around again as he suggested, “Clarke, just watch the movie.”

“No, I don’t wanna watch the movie. The movie sucks,” she complained. “Dad . . . we need to talk about this.”

He aimed the remote at the screen and paused the film, then pressed another button to turn on the lights. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about,” he said. “We’re having a baby. So are you. Let’s all just be happy for each other.”

“No, it’s not that I’m not happy. I’m just . . .” She trailed off as she struggled to find the right words to even begin to articulate how she was feeling in light of this revelation. “This is so weird.”

“Clarke, I know this is a lot for you to take in,” Alyssa said softly, sitting up straighter, “but your father and I are both really excited.”

Clarke snorted and rolled her eyes. “Well, of course you’re really excited. You’re gonna give birth to an heir to the fortune.”

“Clarke!” her father hissed.

“Oh, I could use another drink right about now,” Bellamy groaned, scooting away from her.

Alyssa just stared at her with wide, tear-filled eyes and sputtered, “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, honey,” Jake said, putting his hand on his girlfriend’s lap. “Clarke, apologize right now.”

She felt like she was a little kid again, being told what to do by her dad. And as rude and selfish as it may have been, she didn’t _want_ to apologize. She’d said what she said, and in that moment, she didn’t even feel bad about it. So instead of offering up any kind of ‘I’m sorry,’ she just got up and marched out of the theater.

“Clarke!” her dad yelled after her.

She was storming upstairs when Bellamy came after her and demanded, “Hey, what was that all about?”

She spun around at the top of the staircase and vented, “I tried, Bellamy. I tried to calm down, but then this happened, and I just—I just couldn’t! And I can’t blame that on pregnancy hormones, I know. I’m just so frustrated! I already have to share my dad with Alyssa. Now I have to share him with a half-sibling, too? God, I feel like this is the kind of thing you see on Jerry Springer, not in real life.”

“Is Jerry Springer still on?” he asked.

“That doesn’t matter!”

He continued to follow her as she stomped down the upstairs hallways, in search of the guest room where her dad had put their bags. “What you said to her, though . . .” he said. “You basically called her a gold-digger.”

“Because that’s what she is!” Clarke threw open a door and saw _a_ guest room. Not _their_ guest room, though. This one was teal. She slammed it shut and kept walking.

“You don’t know that,” Bellamy pointed out.

“Oh, but I’ll tell you what I do know: My child is only gonna be a couple weeks older than my sibling,” she ranted. “Just imagine that, Bellamy. Imagine if your mom got pregnant right now. Wouldn’t that make your head spin?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but I’d try to be happy for her.”

“Well, I’m sorry!” she shouted, trying another guest room. Not the right one. “I’m sorry I can’t be happy because I’m too busy being pissed off! And I don’t even wanna be here right now, but if I go home, it’s not like I’m gonna feel any better, and--” She very nearly screamed at the top of her lungs when she opened a third door and found _another_ room that wasn’t the right room. “ _Jesus Christ_ , how many _fucking_ guest rooms are there in this place?” she roared.

“Seven,” Alyssa’s voice piped up in response. “We put your stuff in one of the north ones.”

Clarke suddenly felt very embarrassed standing there face to face with the woman she’d just insulted pretty badly. Sure, Alyssa didn’t own this home, but Clarke was still a guest here, and she’d never been such a rude one. She hated that she was just unleashing like this, so probably the best thing to do was to just go hide out for the rest of the night. “Which way’s north?” she asked, wondering if they were in the wrong wing of the house. Because this house was so large that it had wings.

Alyssa started to tell her. “You have to go--”

“No, you know what?” Clarke cut in. “This one’s fine. We’ll stay in here.” They were all just rooms with beds, fancily-decorated and barely slept-in, of course. It wasn’t like one of them could be much better than the others.

“We’ll move your stuff,” Alyssa said, slinking back down the hall.

“Thanks, Alyssa,” Bellamy said quietly.

Clarke waited until the other woman was gone to hiss at him, “No, no ‘Thanks, Alyssa.’ We hate her.”

“We do?” he said, flipping on the light switch as they went into their new room.

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “I don’t.”

“Probably not, because I’m sure you think she’s hot.”

“Well . . . yeah,” he confessed. “But not as hot as you. Plus, I think she’s kinda nice.”

“Kinda nice?” Clarke echoed, wishing he would just take her side in this, because that was what she needed. “Seven guest rooms, Bellamy. Keep talking like that and you can go find one.” She tore back the covers on the bed, hoping she’d feel better when she crawled beneath them to hunker down for the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Crazy as it was, Bellamy preferred the extra-long twin bed in his room at his mom’s house to the queen-sized one he’d slept in last night. That mattress was too soft. He felt like he kept sinking down into it. He woke up with a sore back, feeling like he needed to exercise just to work out the kinks. Luckily, Jake had plenty of home gym equipment. And that pool.

It took him about three minutes of wandering around the house to find his way out to that massive living room with that massive tree. Jake was already awake, lounging on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. He had the morning paper in one hand and an iPad in the other, seemed to be alternating reading the news on both.

“How’s my daughter today?” he asked without looking up.

“She’s still asleep,” Bellamy replied, yawning as he sat down on a separate couch. The whole multiple couches thing boggled his mind. Even in the beach house, Clarke had two couches. He’d only ever had one growing up. “How’s Alyssa?” he asked.

“She cried all night,” Jake blurted, setting the paper down. He spent a few more seconds looking at the screen of his iPad, then set that down, too. “You know, I knew it would be an adjustment for Clarke,” he said, “but I didn’t anticipate quite that much anger.”

Honestly, Bellamy hadn’t, either. He’d tried to get her to talk about it some more last night, let it all out to him rather than to anyone else, but she’d just grumbled that she didn’t want to talk about it and had gone to bed early. “It doesn’t take much to set her off,” he said, feeling like the pregnancy hormones _had_ to be amplifying things at least a little bit.

“That’s more than just a mood swing, though,” her father said. “I think she has . . . a lot of lingering resentment. Towards me.”

“Why?” Bellamy asked. He didn’t want to prod too deeply, especially if something wasn’t his business, but he also wanted to be able to help Clarke through her feelings. He wanted to understand where she was coming from, even though he was still going to call her out on it if she said something unkind to someone. “Because of what happened between you and Abby?”

Jake pressed his lips together tightly, then looked to Bellamy and asked, “How much as she told you about all of that?”

He shrugged. “She just said things got bad between you guys over time.”

Jake nodded solemnly. “They did. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’re better off apart. I’m sure she and Marcus are very happy together, and Alyssa’s . . . well, she’s the love of my life.”

“But it’s hard for Clarke to accept that,” Bellamy pointed out. No kids grew up wanting their parents to get a divorce. Maybe it bothered her more than she let on.

“I know,” Jake said. “But she isn’t the only one who’s had to process some big news lately. I mean, imagine my surprise when I found out she was pregnant. With the child of an _ex_ -boyfriend, no less.”

Yeah, that had surprised everyone. Even Bellamy, originally. “If you put it like that, maybe she’ll lighten up a bit,” he suggested.

“Maybe,” Jake agreed.

“And I can try to talk to her.”

“You should,” Jake said. “She’ll listen to you.”

_We’ll see_ , he thought. Just because Clarke hadn’t wanted to talk last night didn’t necessarily mean she wouldn’t want to talk today now that she’d had a night to sleep on all of this. It was a new day and all that shit.

“So you and Clarke . . . you two just picked up right where you left off, huh?” Jake noted, shifting the topic.

“Pretty much.” It was weird, because in some ways, it seemed like five years had really changed a lot. And in other ways, it felt like everything was exactly the same.

“Is she the reason you came back?” Jake asked.

As much as he would have loved to have claimed that, he hadn’t come back to Arkadia pinning all his hopes on Clarke Griffin. He hadn’t even been sure she’d been single at the time. “I just wanted to come home,” he said. “And I mean . . . I hoped maybe she and I could start things up again. Yeah, she was definitely a big part of it.”

“I’m sure you weren’t expecting to move back home and have a pregnant girlfriend, though.”

“No, but . . . that’s just the way it happened.” He was fairly certain Jake hadn’t expected to father a child in his fifties, but hell, that’d just happened, too.

“You’re in it long-term then?” Jake asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s good. Because if you aren’t . . . well, it’d be better to get out now than to lead her on.”

Bellamy frowned, narrowing his eyes a bit. “I’m not leading anybody on,” he said, not sure why Jake even felt the need to say anything like that to him. “I love your daughter. You know that.”

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know that you loved dating her. In high school,” he said. “I don’t know what that translates into these days.”

_What the fuck?_ Bellamy thought, feeling a little bit of his own anger now. Wasn’t it obvious? He was here, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t have been there right now if he wasn’t committed to being a part of Clarke’s family, of Clarke’s life. “Let me put it this way,” he said, trying to state it as simply and succinctly as he could. “Alyssa’s the love of your life?”

Jake nodded.

“Well, Clarke’s the love of mine.” In five years, no other girl he’d met could even compare to her. Even when she wasn’t at her best, like last night, he still loved her more than anything in the world. And one of these days, all these skeptics and doubters were going to realize that that would never change.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite basically having their own city in that house, Clarke’s father and Alyssa didn’t seem to have any decent drawing paper. Bellamy managed to scrounge up an old notebook for her since she hadn’t brought her sketchpad, and she proceeded to spend the majority of her day holed up in the very same bedroom she’d slept in last night, only venturing out to step across the hall and go to the bathroom. She faked being sick, and Bellamy brought some lunch up to her. He talked to her for a while, but she didn’t feel like talking much today. So eventually he told her he was going to go hang out downstairs and that she should come down when she felt like it.

Even though she only had crappy materials at her disposal, Clarke was in the middle of putting together a pretty good drawing of their first house—back before they’d moved to Arkadia. It’d only had one guest room instead of seven, but it’d been nice. All of her earliest holiday memories had happened in that house. She missed it sometimes.

A knock on the door disrupted her. She expected it to be Bellamy, but instead, it was Alyssa who came into the room. “Hey,” she said timidly. “Your dad’s gonna start cooking dinner soon, if you wanna come down. We haven’t seen much of you today.”

“Well, I’m pretty embarrassed,” Clarke admitted as she purposefully smudged part of her drawing for a shadow effect.

“Do you wanna talk?” Alyssa offered. “Woman to woman.”

Did she _want_ to? Not really, because she knew she was going to have to admit that she’d been wrong last night, and nobody enjoyed doing that. But did she _need_ to? Oh, yeah. “Sure,” she said, setting her drawing aside. She didn’t move off of the bed, though. In fact, she folded her legs up underneath herself and wrapped her arms around her midsection, trying to take up as little space as possible. She didn’t even feel like she _deserved_ to be a guest in that house after what she’d said last night, how rude she’d been.

Alyssa shut the door quietly and came to the bed, taking a seat at the foot of it. “I know this is hard for you to believe, but I genuinely love your father,” she started in. And she _sounded_ genuine. “And it’s not because of his money or because of this house. I love him as a person, as a man.”

_He’s a good man_ , Clarke thought. Her dad wasn’t perfect—nobody’s dad was—but he’d always tried to guide her in the right direction in life. Even though they didn’t see each other as much anymore and his birthday gifts were disappointingly impersonal, he was still her dad, and she loved him a lot, too.

“I understand that you have every reason to be suspicious because of the age gap. I get that,” Alyssa acknowledged. “But Jake’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I love him with all my heart. Just like you love Bellamy.”

Clarke felt tears sting her eyes when she imagined how hurt she would be if someone questioned her feelings for her boyfriend. How could she have done that to another woman? Why on earth had she ever thought she had the right to do that?

“My mom’s been such a bitch to him because she thinks that we’re just, like, slaves to the passion or something,” Clarke admitted, rolling her eyes at the idea of that. “And I hate that last night I was such a bitch to you. You didn’t deserve that. And . . .” She swallowed hard, owning her mistake, ready to move past it now. “I’m really sorry,” she apologized. “I’m pregnant, too. Of all people, I should be the one to say . . . congratulations.”

Alyssa smiled tearfully. “Thank you,” she said. “To be honest, even though we’re still getting to know each other, I’m really excited to have someone to go through this with. I mean, I try to tell Jake about it, but he doesn’t understand.”

“He’s a man,” Clarke scoffed. “He can’t.”

“No. Like the nausea. He doesn’t get how bad it is.”

“It’s awful,” Clarke agreed.

“Does it get any better?”

It was sort of weird to be talking to someone who was in the same position in life that she was, albeit just a few weeks behind. But like Alyssa had said, other people just didn’t quite understand. “Mine was pretty much gone after first trimester,” Clarke replied. “So hopefully yours is, too.”

“And what about the peeing?” Alyssa inquired. “Do you still have to pee all the time?”

“All the time,” she confirmed with a resigned nod.

“Seriously?”

“Yep. I’m just used to it at this point.”

Alyssa shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“No, you will,” Clarke assured her. She suspected that, even after the baby was born, she’d still be waking up in the night to use the bathroom. Her bladder would just be accustomed to it. “Have you had any weird cravings yet?” she asked, wondering if they’d been wanting to eat any of the same things.

“Oh, yeah,” Alyssa said emphatically. “Pickles.”

“Ooh, those sound so good right now.” Her mouth watered at the thought of just sucking the juice out of one of those.

“I don’t even like pickles,” Alyssa mumbled.

“Me, neither.” It was nice not to have to explain why she wanted one, though. It was nice to have someone who just understood.

The conversation Clarke had with her dad’s girlfriend wasn’t a particularly long one, but it was a good one. It felt like they’d sort of cleared the air and were able to start fresh then. Clarke decided to head downstairs and show her face, and she stopped in the kitchen and told her dad that she wanted to talk to him after dinner. She owed him an apology, too.

While he cooked (and Alyssa offered to help), Clarke went to find Bellamy. He’d said something about going for a swim, so she headed down to the pool, and indeed, he was swimming back and forth at more of a workout pace than a leisurely one. He stopped when she came to sit down on the edge, though, and dangled her legs in the water.

“You like this pool?” she asked him.

“Yeah.” Dropping down beneath the water, he stayed under for a few seconds, then came back up and flipped his wet hair out of his face. “We don’t need it, though. We got the ocean.” He swam towards her, looking like a sexy male mermaid, and grabbed hold of her ankles beneath the water. “Well?” he prompted.

Still slightly embarrassed by her bratty behavior last night, she mumbled, “Okay, we don’t hate her anymore.”

“Oh, good,” he said, “‘cause I was failing miserably at that.”

“We talked just now. I apologized. We commiserated about being pregnant,” she explained. “Which was good, you know, because as much as I love Raven and Harper . . . they’ve never _been_ pregnant. So sometimes it’s hard to explain stuff to them.”

“Right,” he said, rubbing her calves beneath the water. “So you and Alyssa . . .”

“We bonded a little bit,” she said.

“There you go.”

It was a start, if nothing else. She didn’t anticipate that they were suddenly going to be best friends or anything, but they could text and stuff after this, follow each other on Instagram and keep up with the baby happenings in each other’s lives. Besides, Clarke kind of liked being slightly farther along. It made her feel all knowledgeable. “Have you and my dad been bonding today?” she asked him.

“Kinda,” he said. “It’s pretty easy with your dad. He’s always liked me.”

She made a face. “Well . . .”

Bellamy’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait, what? Your dad doesn’t like me? Since when?”

“No, he . . . he _tolerates_ you,” she informed him.

“What?” he spat. “No, your mom tolerates me. Your dad likes me. We talk about football and shit.”

“Oh, he likes the football shit,” she assured him. “He just . . .” She wasn’t trying to make him feel bad or anything, but she didn’t want him thinking he could just say anything or do anything with her dad and get away with it. “I lost my virginity to you, Bellamy. He’s always gonna look at you with a critical eye.”

“So I’m basically just screwed with both your parents then.”

“No.” It certainly felt that way sometimes, but if he kept trying, she felt like he’d eventually win them over somehow. “We have leverage here now. I’m nice to Alyssa, my dad’s nice to you.”

“This is a very healthy family dynamic we have going on here,” he said sarcastically, “leverage and all that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I wish everyone was just as easygoing about things as your mom. And that applies to me, too. I could learn a few things from her.” Maybe Aurora could give her some good insight in handling things with her dad and Alyssa. After all, it wasn’t like she could ask her own mom for help in dealing with that.

Taking a look around, Clarke allowed herself to take a deep breath and just feel relaxed for the first time since they’d shown up. It wasn’t actually a bad way to spend a weekend, swimming and relaxing in a house as beautiful as this. Someday she’d bring her son or daughter over here for a visit, and they’d probably never want to leave.

“You know what I wish?” she said, gazing down at her sexy, slippery boyfriend. “I wish I could just block out the rest of the world sometimes and forget it exists. And then it’d just be you and me.”

“You and me, huh?” he said. As his hands came to rest on either side of her, he claimed, “I can make you forget everything else.”

“How?”

He grinned. “Close your eyes.”

Since she doubted he was going to pull her in the water, she went ahead and did just that. A few seconds later, she felt him get close as he pushed himself up out of the water, and then he was kissing her. Just one simple but _sweet_ kiss, and he let it linger before he sank back down in the water again. When her eyes fluttered open, he smirked at her and asked, “Now what were we talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered breathily. “I forget.”


	29. Chapter 29

_Chapter 29_

Clarke felt like she was going crazy. What had begun as a simple lunch outing with her two best friends in the world had turned into . . . this.

“I think you guys should do a unisex name,” Raven rambled. “You know, since technically both your names are unisex. Like you could go with Kyle or something. I’m hearing more and more girls named Kyle these days. Or Ashley, like that guy in _Gone with the Wind_.”

“Or you could be inspired by your passion for art,” Harper suggested. “Like . . . oh, who’s a famous artist?” Her eyes lit up when she thought of someone. “Monet! Yeah, if you have a little girl, you could name her Monet.”

Raven made a face. “That’s weird.”

“No weirder than Kyle.”

“Okay, just stop,” Clarke snapped, throwing both her hands up. “I can’t take this anymore. I’ve had babies on the brain the whole weekend. I’m pregnant. My dad’s girlfriend’s pregnant. One of you is probably pregnant for all I know.”

“Oh, god, I hope it’s not me,” Raven groaned, clutching her stomach.

“We didn’t come here to discuss baby names,” Clarke reminded them. “We came here to discuss Bellamy’s birthday. Will you guys just focus on that for, like, a minute?”

Both Harper and Raven fell silent, and Harper sounded like a child who’d just been scolded when she apologized, “Sorry. We’ll be good.”

It wasn’t that Clarke was opposed to discussing baby names with them at some point, but after the weekend she’d had at her dad’s, she just needed a break from all the baby business. Plus, Bellamy’s twenty-fourth birthday was kind of a priority. “We have to throw him a really awesome party,” she said. “Because I know he says he doesn’t want one, but I can see right through him. December birthdays always get overlooked because of Christmas, but we’re not overlooking his.”

Raven took a gurgling sip of her soda and brainstormed, “Okay, how about a football theme then? Or has he had enough of that with the Hall of Fame stuff?”

Clarke really didn’t feel like it was a good idea to go the sports route, not after everything he’d confided had happened at UCF. “No football,” she decided. “In fact, I don’t think it really needs a theme. Just good music, good food, good people. If the weather’s warm enough, maybe we could even have it out on the beach.”

“That’d be fun,” Harper said. “And it’s this weekend, right? I think it’s supposed to be, like, unusually nice out.”

“So we’re pretty much inviting the Trunk-or-Treat crowd, right?” Raven asked.

“Right,” Clarke confirmed. “Plus Miller and Lexa and Octavia. And maybe his friend from work. He has a work friend.”

Harper smiled. “Oh, good for him.”

“I know, right?” She wasn’t sure if Roan would be able to come, because from everything Bellamy had told her, the man was pretty busy with his wife and kids. But they could at least extend an invitation.

“Miller can be responsible for all the music,” Raven said, “maybe play all sorts of stuff he and Bellamy listened to back in the day.”

“It’s gonna be a lot of gangster rap then,” Clarke informed her. “They used to drive around before football games blasting Tupac and Biggie and . . . whoever else was a 90s gangster rapper.”

“Snoop Dog,” Raven said.

“Ice Cube,” Harper added.

With an exaggerated sniffle, Raven fake-cried, “Eazy-E.”

Clarke didn’t even know who the hell that was. “Whatever. That’s what we’re gonna get.”

“That works,” Raven said. “Food . . . we could get something catered, or everyone could just bring something.”

“I call chips and dip,” Harper said quickly, raising her hand as she claimed it.

“I’ll make special brownies.” Raven wriggled her eyebrows in delight. “Although none for you, Mama.”

Clarke wouldn’t have eaten any even if she hadn’t been pregnant. She’d gotten high a total of one time in her life, and that had been back in high school with Bellamy. His mom had been working, and they’d had the house to themselves, so they’d smoked a few joints. She hadn’t liked it very much, though. It’d made her feel all sluggish and had stunk up his bedroom.

“What’re we supposed to get him for gifts?” Harper inquired. “Guys like Bellamy are so hard to shop for.”

“Yeah. I mean, I wanna get him something he’ll actually like,” Raven said, “but mostly I just know he likes you. And he’s already got one of those.”

“Honestly . . .” Clarke shrugged. “Practical stuff. Like tools. He’s got all these plans for a nursery and absolutely nothing to build anything with.”

“Okay, good idea,” Raven said. “And then I’m sure you’ll end the night by paying attention to a _certain_ tool of his, as any good girlfriend would.”

Clarke blushed. But yes, that was the plan.

“See?” Raven said. “He’s gonna have an awesome birthday.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the days leading up to Bellamy’s party, Clarke played coy about the whole thing. In fact, she even led him to believe that they were just going to have a quiet night in. She told him she’d cook dinner and they’d find something good to watch on TV, and even though he put on a smile and said that’d be nice, she could tell he wanted something a bit more celebratory. All of their friends kept the party a secret, too, and on the morning of Bellamy’s birthday, they bombarded him with the most generic happy birthday texts ever. He mumbled something about how unlucky people with December birthdays were, then went about his day.

That evening, though, just as Clarke was about to start ‘cooking dinner,’ their friends came over, practically piling in the house, and they bombarded him with gifts and booze and noise. Bellamy’s whole demeanor just changed. He looked genuinely surprised that they were having a party for him; they really had fooled him.

True to the forecast, the weather was nice. _Insanely_ nice. It felt more like a comfortable fall evening than it did the middle of December, so they were able to go out onto the beach and celebrate out there. Miller pulled his truck around the side of the house, parked it on the sand, and hooked up some massive speakers in the bed of it. It was the exact genre of music Clarke had predicted, and Bellamy just loved it. When he wasn’t drinking, he and Miller were singing along. (Watching the two of them belt out every single lyric to “Mama Said Knock You Out” was a highlight.) While they drank and sang, everyone else either danced or sat around the small bonfire they’d gotten started, drinking or roasting marshmallows. Clarke didn’t sit much, though, because as the hostess for this birthday bash, she felt like it was her responsibility to go back and forth between the house and the beach, always making sure that they had plenty of food, drinks, and blankets out there in case anyone got cold.

When Miller had to take a pee break—he didn’t bother with the bathroom and just went in the ocean—Clarke sidled up to Bellamy and asked, “Having fun?”

“Yeah.” He finished off the bottle in his hand and said, “A little too much.”

“No, you just go for it,” she said, patting his chest. “It’s your birthday. Live it up.”

“Oh, I am.” When Miller came back, they . . . howled at each other? Clarke wasn’t sure what that was about, but then again, there were a lot of bro rituals guys had that she didn’t quite understand. Thankfully, with the party being pretty much an equal balance between the genders, she had plenty of girls to hang out with, too. Lexa was the obvious choice since all the other girls were there with their boyfriends. Clarke didn’t want her to feel left out.

“Quite the party,” Lexa remarked when Clarke sat down beside her at the bonfire.

“Yeah, I think he’s having a good time.” He’d _definitely_ be feeling the effects of all this fun in the morning, but knowing Bellamy, he wouldn’t regret a second of this.

“I gotta hand it to you,” Lexa said, looking over her shoulder at Bellamy, “as far as boys go, he’s a pretty cute one. I can see why you never got over him.”

“No, I was over him,” Clarke claimed.

Lexa shook her head adamantly. “You never were. You used to talk in your sleep sometimes, and I always swore you were saying his name. And you’d doodle pictures of him on napkins and stuff. You’re just lucky I wasn’t the jealous type.”

Well, damn, she had done that, hadn’t she? The truth was, she’d never completely forgotten about Bellamy, but she _had_ forced herself to move on from him. It had just never occurred to her that fate could unfold like this, that they might somehow end up together after so many years apart.

Beside them, Jasper and Maya were all over each other, using his jacket as a blanket to lie on. They looked hammered just like Bellamy and Miller were, but instead of using their mouths to sing, they were using their mouths for . . . other purposes. “Oh my god, are they gonna do it?” Clarke wondered.

“Probably,” Lexa said. “They had some of Raven’s brownies.”

Even though she didn’t want to be a cock-block, Clarke felt compelled to make sure they were at least going to be safe tonight. So she got up, went over to the young couple, and knelt down beside them. “Hey, wait a minute, you two,” she said, pulling Maya’s shoulder back to put some distance between her and Jasper. “Do you have protection?”

Jasper looked like he barely even understood her as he struggled to get one word out. “Wh-what?”

“Protection,” she repeated. “Condoms, anything? Or are you trying to end up like me?”

Maya laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m on birth control,” she assured Clarke.

Jasper finally seemed to piece together what this conversation was actually about, and his whole face lit up with excitement. “Wait, are we having sex tonight?” he asked a little too loudly.

“Maybe,” Maya replied with a giggle. And then they started kissing again.

“Be safe,” Clarke said, leaving them on their own. There was only so much of Jasper’s tongue she could see before she wanted to puke.

Her plan was to camp out next to Lexa again, maybe check in on how things were going between her and Costia, but a loud, “Clarke!” kept her from doing that. She whipped her head towards the house and saw Raven on the back porch, motioning her over hurriedly.

Clarke wasn’t sure what was going on, but she hustled across the beach. “What’s wrong?” she asked Raven.

“Come out front,” Raven said, ducking inside. Clarke followed her through the living room and out the front door, and it didn’t take long to figure out why Raven had called her over. They had a party crasher wandering around out there: Finn.

“What’s he doing here?” Clarke asked. Surely nobody had invited him, right?

“He’s drunk,” Raven said. “I saw his car pull up when I came in to use the bathroom.”

Finn let out a loud belch, opened up the back door of his absolute beater of a car, and grabbed himself a half-empty bottle. Harder stuff than the booze they were using to celebrate Bellamy’s birthday. “Nice party,” he said, taking a giant swig. “My invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

Clarke stepped down off the front porch, more annoyed than upset that he’d shown up. “What do you want, Finn?” she asked him impatiently.

“What do I want?” he echoed. Upon taking several seconds to think about it—as much as he _could_ think right now—he just shrugged and answered, “I don’t know.”

Well, Clarke knew what _she_ wanted. Spinning back to Raven, she said, “I don’t want him to be here.”

Raven nodded in agreement.

“Of course you don’t,” Finn said, stumbling over his own two feet as he struggled to stay standing. “I’m just a loser. You got an upgrade.”

Finn wasn’t _actually_ a loser, though. She wouldn’t have ever dated him if he had no potential. But he sure as hell was acting like a loser right now, and it was . . . actually sort of sad. He looked like a lost little boy instead of a twenty-two year old man.

“Is it his birthday or something?” Finn asked. “You gonna give him some birthday sex?” Laughing angrily, he muttered, “I wonder what my kid thinks about that.”

“ _Your_ kid?” she echoed, taking issue with that. He could show up and slur about her and Bellamy all he wanted to, but he’d given up any right to lay claim on the baby she was carrying. “Do you have any idea what _your_ kid even looks like right now, how big it is?” she asked him accusatorily. “What about how much it weighs? Do you know anything?”

He fell silent.

“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t wanna know,” she reminded him, heated now. “So you don’t get to crash our party. We don’t want you here.”

“Well, where am I supposed to go, huh?” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. Some of the liquor spilled out of his bottle.

“Home,” she suggested. He had a home, with roommates, she recalled. Roommates who were _actual_ losers and who, unfortunately, seemed to be rubbing off on him.

“Clarke, look at him,” Raven said, coming up behind her. “He shouldn’t be driving.”

As eager as she was to just get him out of there, Raven was totally right. Finn was in no shape to be behind the wheel right now.

“I’ll take him,” Raven offered.

“Thanks.” She hated for her friend to have to miss any of the party, but . . .

“Go back and have a good time,” Raven said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she eased past. She talked to Finn quietly and slowly and was just managing to help him into her car as Clarke headed back inside the house.

The party was still in full swing by the time she got back outside to it. Determined not to let Finn be a damper on an otherwise awesome evening, Clarke pushed him as far out of her mind as she could.

“Everything okay?” Lexa asked her.

“Yeah.” She looked around for Bellamy and didn’t see him standing next to Miller anymore, but she _did_ see someone wading around in the ocean waist-deep. “Oh god, what happened out here?”

“I don’t even know,” Lexa responded.

“Clarke!” Bellamy yelled. Indeed, he was in the ocean.

“Yeah?” she yelled back.

“I can’t find my pants!”

“What?” Bellamy had taken his pants off while she’d been dealing with Finn?

“I can’t find my pants!” he said again.

“He lost his pants when he ran into the ocean,” Miller explained.

“Why are you even in there?” Clarke asked him.

“I don’t know!”

“Well, get out!”

He sighed heavily, shrugged, and said, “Okay,” then started walking out of the water. He was definitely _not_ exaggerating about the pants thing. He didn’t have a stitch of clothing on the lower half of his body. Everything was just out for everyone to see.

“Bellamy!” she shrieked, running towards him as all their friends laughed. She heard Murphy proclaim, “This is great footage!” and she knew he was recording. Luckily, it was dark out, and she got to him before anyone could see too much. Taking off her sweatshirt—which was actually _his_ sweatshirt—she tied it around his waist to conceal his junk from anyone’s view.

“What?” he said. “I told you, I can’t find my pants. They floated away or something.”

“I didn’t know you meant your underwear, too.”

Grinning, he said, “I wasn’t wearing any.”

Even so, she had no idea how anyone could just lose an entire pair of pants simply by going in the ocean. Chances were, he’d never see them again. “You’re so drunk,” she said, laughing at his silliness. It was a different kind of drunk than what she’d just seen from Finn, though. Bellamy wasn’t feeling sorry for himself; he was having a good time. It was good to see him let loose, because these days, he hardly ever got a break. If he wasn’t working, he was doing something to take care of her. He was a pretty good boyfriend like that.

The party wore on for at least another hour, and Bellamy put on new pants for it. Raven returned and only let Murphy know where she’d been. Clarke thanked her profusely for getting her ex home safe and sound, but she didn’t care to waste any more breath on Finn. So instead, she made a few s’mores and took part in a spontaneous but relatively tame game of truth or dare. The most scandalous thing that happened was that Maya was dared to kiss another girl, so Lexa, of course, volunteered for the job. After that, it started to get chilly, so they headed back inside with the intention of letting Bellamy open up some of his presents. Bellamy could barely sit upright on the couch, though, so they all decided it was best to just call it a night.

“When do I get to open my presents?” he asked Clarke as she helped him up the stairs.

“Tomorrow, when you’re more coherent,” she told him.

“Co-what?”

“Exactly.” She pushed open the door to the bedroom and walked beneath his arm, supporting most of his weight as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other.

“So you think everyone had fun?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. But you had the most fun of all.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed emphatically. “And everyone really saw . . . everything?”

“Yep.” Fortunately, she’d convinced Murphy to blur that out before he put any video online.

Bellamy smirked. “Hmm, lucky them.”

“Lucky _me_ ,” she corrected, pushing him down onto the bed. “I get to see it more than they do.” Poor Bellamy probably would have just lain down and fallen asleep with all his clothes on if she’d let him, so she took his shoes off for him, then unbuttoned his pants. “Happy birthday to you,” she sang quietly, sliding them down his hips and legs. “Happy birthday to you.” Then she slid her hands up underneath his shirt and urged him to lift his arms over his head. “Happy birthday, dear Bellamy,” she went on, lifting his shirt off. She tossed it onto the floor and then pushed him down onto his back, lying on top of him. “Happy birthday to you,” she finished up, her voice a whisper in his ear. She kissed his cheek, then his alcohol-soaked lips. He had a little piece of marshmallow stuck in his beard, too, so she plucked that out for him. He didn’t exactly look . . . smoldering right now. Not the way he usually did. But he was naked and cute and happy, exactly the way he deserved to be on his birthday.

With a clear destination in mind, she slithered down his body, dropping a trail of kisses along his muscled chest and abdomen. When she got to his cock, she took it in her hand and gave it a few long strokes, then lightly kissed the tip of it. “What do you say, birthday boy?” she asked, her voice low and raspy as she channeled her inner seductress. “You up for it?”

As if in response, his cock twitched in her hand. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah?” Part of the reason she hadn’t protested when they’d decided to forgo opening presents was that she’d been eager to get him alone to have some fun with him. She had actual presents for him, of course, but his birthday wouldn’t be complete if they didn’t get it on.

She’d thought a lot about how she wanted to give it to him tonight. A blow-job was the obvious answer, so she started sucking on him pretty fervently. But they hadn’t had a whole lot of sex this week on account of her work schedule, so selfishly, she wanted to get off, too. Not that she _couldn’t_ get off just by giving him head. She could, and she actually had before. But it would be so much easier if he was inside her.

“You’re not gonna fall asleep on me, are you?” she teased, lifting her head.

“No,” he assured her, though his eyes were half-closed. “I just drank. I didn’t have the brownies.”

“Good.” She bobbed her head up and down his length a couple more times, doing her best to coat it with saliva, and then she crawled back up to straddle him. “Because I want you to fuck me,” she told him, peeling her shirt off.

His hands came up to cup and squeeze her backside, and he eagerly asked, “Can I fuck your ass?”

“No.”

He pouted exaggeratedly. “B-but it’s . . . it’s my birthday.”

As much as she was willing to spoil him tonight, anal sex was probably pushing the envelope a little too much. “Let’s save that for when you’re sober, alright?” she suggested. When they tried it that way again, she needed him to be completely attentive.

“Okay,” he relented.

“But here.” She swung one leg off of him and crawled to her side of the bed, putting on a mini-show for him as she took off her jeans—elastic-waist but still kind of sexy. Clad in only her bra and panties, she got on all fours and stuck her ass in the air to entice him. “You can do what you want with the rest of me,” she told him, peeking over her shoulder.

Bellamy didn’t need to be told twice. With more coordination than he’d managed all night, he sat up and walked towards her on her knees, positioning himself behind her in a doggy style position. Either he forgot that she still had panties on or just wanted to tease her, because he rubbed the head of his hard cock against the thin fabric covering her folds. The barely-there silky material did little to conceal her desire, as she felt herself soaking through them with every deliberate rub.

_How did I ever go five years without this?_ she wondered, pressing her hips back against him. There was something about Bellamy’s body that just drove her crazy. It was more, even, than just a physical attraction. It was like . . . chemical.

When he grabbed hold of her underwear and tore them on the side, she gasped. That gave him open access to her pussy, and he went right ahead and took it. Groaning, he plunged into her, his hands holding tightly to her hips to keep her still. “Fuck,” he swore, one of his most common reactions to penetrating her. She loved the way Bellamy’s voice sounded when they were together like this. It was even lower than normal, even more gravelly.

“Oh, yeah,” she whispered, craning her head back. It felt amazing.

Bellamy didn’t take it slow. Tonight was clearly not some gentle lovemaking session. They were both horny, and they wanted to get off, so he drilled and grinded his hips into hers pretty roughly right from the start. “Oh, fuck, you’re so tight,” he scraped out.

_I’d better be_ , she thought. She did those Kegel exercises for a reason. Hopefully it’d feel just as good for him after she had the baby.

He gave her ass a little spanking as he thrust into her. They didn’t ever go overboard with hitting, but she’d never been opposed to a slap on the ass. “You like that?” he asked her breathily.

It wasn’t really necessary to give him an answer, but she said, “Yeah,” anyway. He knew what she was okay with, knew exactly what she liked. He always had. Nobody had ever known her body as well as Bellamy Blake did. Nobody. “Mmm, you feel so good inside me,” she purred, using her words to urge him on. “Give it to me, babe. I want it.”

A growl arose from low in his throat, and he picked up the pace. The force of his thrusts sent her whole body rocking forward, to the point where her hands were at the edge of the mattress. “Uh . . . harder,” she groaned, completely surrendering herself to the sensation of getting fucked. Even in his drunken state, Bellamy was an absolute stallion in the sack. “Yeah, just like that,” she praised him when his cock started to rub at exactly the right angle. “Oh, right there. _Right_ there. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.” Her breasts practically spilled out of her bra as she continued to rock back and forth with him. She was so close that she could feel it building up. It always started down in her stomach and just spread outward from there. Like a firework.

“Oh my god,” she gasped as his hips continued to ram hers. He was fucking her so good. Everything just felt _so_ good. “Oh, Bellamy!” She cried out his name as she came, her pussy clamping down on and squeezing his cock on its own accord. He fucked her straight through it, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the pleasure shot through every limb. She felt like she was seeing stars.

Bellamy came shortly after that, right as she was coming down from her own orgasm. She fought to keep herself upright, because she couldn’t very well just sprawl out on her stomach with the bump she had. Thankfully, Bellamy disconnected from her, then scooped her up in his arms and said, “Come here,” as they lay back on the bed together.

She curled against his side, appreciative of the sheen of sweat on his chest. He’d worked hard to get her off. Even all that alcohol in his system hadn’t slowed him down.

“Did you have a good birthday?” she asked him, fairly certain the answer was obvious.

“The best,” he murmured against her forehead.

_Good_ , she thought, smiling sleepily as exhaustion took hold. _Mission accomplished_.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The pounding ache in his head was all it took for Bellamy to realize he’d had way too much to drink last night. The evening was . . . hazy at best. He remembered a lot of singing with Miller, some nakedness in the ocean, and some much better nakedness with Clarke after everyone else had gone. The details were fuzzy, but he had the gist of it. Birthday party. A fun one. And now he was paying the price.

With Clarke fast asleep next to him, it was really tempting to just lie there and keep sleeping. _Really_ tempting.

****

_Although he didn’t have much of a biological alarm clock, something managed to wake Bellamy up the morning after his birthday. Some nagging feeling in the back of his very lethargic brain that there was something he was supposed to be doing, somewhere he was supposed to be._

_When he caught sight of the numbers on Clarke’s bedside clock, his eyes snapped open, because he knew he was late for . . . something. What was it again? Something with someone from . . ._

_Fuck, something with someone from UCF._

_“Oh, shit,” he muttered, flinging the covers aside. He sprung out of bed, causing Clarke to stir, and he quickly tugged on his pants. He’d slept in his shirt and boxers, so hopefully he didn’t smell too bad._

_He was in such a hurry that he couldn’t even bother to stop and give Clarke a kiss goodbye. Nor could he even attempt to be quiet as he slipped out of her room and hurried downstairs. Didn’t matter anyway. Abby was awake, shuffling through the kitchen in her work clothes. She stopped when she saw him and looked at him with alarm in her eyes._

_“Hi, Mrs. Griffin,” he muttered sheepishly, lowering his head as he bolted for the door. He wasn’t technically supposed to spend the night there, and her silent but vicious glare was a reminder of that._

_His phone was out in his car, but when he checked it, the battery was completely dead, so there would be no calling his mom to let her know he was on his way. Instead, he just floored it, managing to get home in just a few minutes. There was a nice car parked in his driveway, so he parked out on the street, got out of the car, and straightened out his shirt. It wasn’t a nice enough shirt to wear, but it was gonna have to do._

_His mom scampered outside to intercept him on his way to the door. “Bellamy,” she said sternly._

_“I know. I’m sorry.” He’d promised her he’d be home last night, and he hadn’t followed through. He sucked as a son. “How long has he been here?” he asked her._

_“Thirty minutes,” she replied. “You look like you just rolled out of bed.”_

_“I did,” he confessed, heading inside. Doing his best to look a lot livelier than he actually felt, he put a smile on his face and cheerfully greeted their visitor. “Hi, Mr. Desai,” he said, extending his hand as he approached the couch. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”_

_“Oh, it’s no problem,” the coach said, standing up to shake Bellamy’s hand. “Better late than never.”_

_He was being nice and everything, but Bellamy couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually put off. These coaches’ schedules were nuts this time of year with all the recruiting they were doing. Even though Ryker Desai was only the quarterback coach, there were rumors that UCF was going to promote him to offensive coordinator. His schedule had to be packed._

_“I do apologize, though,” Bellamy reiterated for the sake of being polite. “I know it’s a busy time of year for you, between your bowl game and recruiting.”_

_“Don’t worry about it, Bellamy,” Ryker said. “Gave your mother and your coach and I a chance to watch your highlight reel again. It’s very impressive.”_

_“Thank you.” Bellamy took a moment to acknowledge his high school coach with a slight nod of his head. He’d cleared his schedule to be at this breakfast, too. So he’d also waited._

_Bellamy’s mom gathered them all at the table—somehow she’d made it look bigger than it actually was by clearing everything off of it—and started pouring orange juice. That shit looked fresh, like freshly-squeezed. She was really going all out to make a good impression._

_“I hear it was your birthday yesterday,” Coach Desai remarked._

_“Yeah.” Friday birthdays were great and everything, but it was possible he’d partied a bit too hard._

_“Eighteen,” Ryker said. “You’re a man now.”_

Trying to be, _Bellamy thought. Although technically, he’d become a man his freshman year when Roma Bragg had decided to screw him._

_“Did you do anything fun?” Ryker inquired._

_“Yeah, I hung out with my friends and my girlfriend,” he said, happy to leave it vague._

_“Oh, you have a girlfriend.” The coach’s eyebrows rose in interest._

_“Yeah.” That was . . . interesting?_

_“And is she considering UCF, too?”_

_Knowing Clarke, she’d end up in the Ivy League or something. She was a really smart girl, a hell of a lot smarter than he was. “No, she’s actually just a sophomore,” he replied, “so . . .”_

_Ryker nodded. “Ah, I see.”_

_Bellamy cast a quick glance at his current coach, who was giving him a warning look. With a subtle shake of his head, Bellamy understood that he’d screwed up. Girlfriends weren’t something recruiters needed to know about. To them, girls back home were a liability to their players._

_“We’re not planning on staying together after this year, though,” Bellamy quickly added, “so it won’t be a problem or anything.”_

_“That’s probably for the best,” Ryker said. “It’s hard to keep the high school relationships going sometimes. But don’t worry, plenty of beautiful girls go to UCF. And they like football players.”_

_Bellamy smiled a little, but . . . he felt bad. He felt bad for saying Clarke wouldn’t be a_ problem.

_Thankfully, his mom knew exactly how to keep things going when she asked, “Is anyone hungry? I think I made way too much for breakfast.”_

_The conversation picked up as the food appeared on the table, with Bellamy’s current coach doing most of the talking to his future one. They talked about all the records Bellamy had set in his time as a Rocket, about some of his most memorable plays, and about what UCF had to offer him. Bellamy’s mom chimed in, too, especially with questions about available scholarship money. Bellamy made sure to stay relatively silent and just smile and nod so he didn’t stick his foot in his mouth again. Ryker Desai didn’t need to know about Clarke. None of those UCF coaches did._

_It made him feel like crap, though, sitting there acting like she wasn’t a big part of his life when, this year, she’d become one of the biggest. And one of the best. Downplaying her importance to him sort of made it feel like he was betraying her. And that wasn’t a good feeling._

****

It was a struggle, but Bellamy managed to drag himself to work that day. He showed up a little late but hoped Emerson didn’t notice. His morning had just been a slow-moving one.

“Oh, I feel like my head’s gonna explode,” he groaned, slumping down on the pile of beams he was supposed to be helping transport.

“Been there,” Roan empathized. “One of the downsides of drinking too much.”

Yeah, he was pretty sure he’d have a headache all day, but it was worth it for the night he’d had.

“You ever feel like shit in any of those big games you played?” Roan asked him.

“Yeah. But then we usually won, and that made me feel a whole lot better.”

Roan chuckled. “I’ll bet.”

“Bellamy!” his supervisor’s voice boomed suddenly. He looked in the direction of it and saw Emerson giving him an angry look. “You’re not getting paid to sit around, you know!” he yelled. “Get back to work.”

Yawning, he forced himself up and grabbed hold of one end of a heavy beam, helping Roan lift it. “So what’s Christmas like for your family?” he asked. “Do you and your wife get to relax at all, or is it all about the kids?”

“No, it’s all about them,” Roan replied. “We can’t afford all the presents they want, so we try to make it fun for them in other ways.”

“Yeah, that’s what my mom used to do with me,” Bellamy recalled. “We’d make cookies and shit. You guys do that?”

“Oh, yeah, cookies and shit,” Roan said. “And it’s sort of an annual thing for me to dress up like Santa and show up at the front door on Christmas Eve. The girls haven’t caught on that it’s me yet.”

“They like that, huh?”

“Yeah. And I like doing it for ‘em.” Roan’s face took on a special smile, one that Bellamy had quickly learned was reserved just for his daughters. “Makes me feel like a good dad,” he said, sounding proud.

It was a good dad type of thing to do. And Bellamy was happy to have heard about it After all, it wasn’t like he could ask his own dad for advice. He had to get his ideas for fatherhood elsewhere.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Thanks for tagging along today,” Clarke said to Raven when they returned home from their excursion to the mall. “I hate shopping for men.”

“I know. It’s the worst,” Raven commiserated. “Murphy deserves coal, so I don’t know why I’m even bothering with presents.”

Clarke laughed. But Raven actually had it pretty easy with Murphy. Any kind of tech gadget that with help him with his videos was a win. Plus, he didn’t have a birthday ten days before the holiday. That was what made it tough on Clarke. So many gifts back to back.

“I think Bellamy will like this, though,” she said, taking the poker set out of her shopping sack. “He’s been dropping all these hints about having the guys come over to play poker.” On the outside, the poker set looked like a silver briefcase, but on the inside were two decks of playing cards, 650 chips, and five dice. It wasn’t a cheap gift.

“Might be the perfect night for us to have a girls night,” Raven suggested.

“Might be.” If poker night happened, she had absolutely zero interest in being around for it. She didn’t know how to play poker, and she didn’t care to learn.

“You want me to go put this upstairs for you?” Raven asked, taking the case off her hands.

“Yeah, just hide it under the bed.” While her friend went upstairs, Clarke veered into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of orange juice. She’d been craving it all day.

Moments later, Raven came rushing back downstairs, dramatically uttering, “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“What?” Clarke asked, setting the carton of OJ down before she’d poured her whole glass.

“I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you guys are into,” Raven said, “but Santa Claus is now _ruined_ for me.”

“Huh?” Clarke had no idea what her friend was even talking about until someone else came downstairs. Bellamy. Dressed in a Santa suit, hat, and beard. He clearly had a pillow stuffed under the jacket to fill it out and make himself look rounder. “What’s this?” she asked him.

He stood on the stairs and flapped his arms against his sides. “My Santa outfit.”

“I see that. But why do you have one?”

“I got it today,” he explained. “For next year. I’m thinkin’ ahead.”

Clarke stared at him in absolute bewilderment and shook her head. “I’m so confused.”

“I’m gonna dress up. Like Santa,” he declared. “Next year, for the kid’s first Christmas.”

_The kid’s first Christmas?_ she thought, feeling herself turn into a mushy puddle of goo when she pictured that. “That’s so sweet,” she said. “Raven, look at him.”

“I’m trying not to,” Raven said, shielding her eyes.

“Anyway, I’m sweatin’ my balls off,” Bellamy said. “I gotta get out of this.” Unbuckling the belt, he headed back upstairs.

“Unbelievable,” Raven said, stealing Clarke’s orange juice from her. “You know, back in high school, I used to think Bellamy was so cool. We all did. But nowadays, I realize, he’s kind of a big dork.”

That was true, but he was dorky in a way that was also sexy. “He’s so cute, though,” Clarke said, wondering what had possessed him to go out and buy that costume. Had he just been at work thinking about the baby? Did he do that?

“Please don’t tell me that Santa costume was turning you on,” Raven said, giving her a semi-disgusted look.

Clarke choked out a laugh. “No,” she denied. But Raven gave her a knowing head-tilt, so she owned up to the truth of it and mumbled, “Just a little bit, yeah.” It wasn’t like she was going to ask him to wear it later or anything, but she’d definitely find a way to reward him for being such a dedicated daddy-to-be.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I think I forgot to update yesterday! Got really busy with work stuff. My apologies! I come back with a chapter that's one of my favorites, though. :)
> 
> Brief lyrics inclusion in this part: "Future" by Paramore.

_Chapter 30_

It seemed like Bellamy had a hard time sitting still at the doctor’s office. Clarke, in contrast, did not have that same problem. Lately, she was dealing with some dizziness, which both her mother and her doctor assured her were common during this trimester. Something about her growing uterus putting pressure on her blood vessels. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t particularly fun to deal with, and she always noticed it more when she went from sitting to standing, or vice versa. So just being able to sit in the patient chair and wait for her doctor to come back and wrap up the appointment was just fine with her.

Bellamy paced, though. Maybe he was anxious, or maybe he was just bored, but he walked all around that room, much to Clarke’s amusement, until finally he stopped next to her chair and covered up her right eye with his hand. “Can you read that?” he asked, motioning to the poster on the back of the door.

“No.” The letters were all blurry, so she wasn’t going to even try. “Can you?”

“Yep,” he said. “I mean, as well as I can read anything.” He switched it up and covered up her left eye then, asking, “What about now?”

“It’s just blurry.”

“Hmm.” Removing his hands, he looked down at her curiously, like a doctor making a diagnosis.

“What’re you saying, Bellamy?” she pressed.

Without hesitation, he declared, “You need glasses.”

“I do not,” she denied. For years, she’d managed to avoid those health van screenings in school just because she knew they’d say the same thing. Really, taking the vision test to get her driver’s license had been the only time her eyes had put something in jeopardy for her. “My eyesight’s been the same my whole life,” she informed him. “It’s not changing. It’s not getting worse.”

“You squint at the TV every night,” he said. “Face it: You can’t see shit when it’s far away.”

“I can see fine,” she claimed. At this point, she was just used to squinting.

“No, you can’t,” he argued. “You need glasses.”

“Well, I don’t want glasses.” Contacts were out of the question, too. Just the thought of putting something like that in her eye . . . ugh, it made her shudder inwardly.

“Why not?” he said. “Who knows all the little details in the world you’re missing out on?”

She pouted, embarrassed to admit that . . . he was kind of right. Sometimes she couldn’t see things other people could, and she just had to pretend that she did. “It’s not fair, though,” she whined. “Glasses make guys look distinguished. They make girls look like nerds.”

“I think you’d make a cute nerd,” he assured her, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

_Dammit, Bellamy_ , she thought. Why did he have to be s persuasive? “Well . . . I might consider it,” she begrudgingly grumbled. “If . . .”

“If what?” he prompted.

She grinned at him and made her wager. “If you wear your glasses for me tonight.” Bellamy had these thick black frames that he wore around the house sometimes. They kind of turned her on.

“And nothing else?” he guessed.

“And nothing else,” she confirmed.

He laughed, bent down, and gave her a quick kiss—which was basically his way of agreeing to it—just as the door opened and the doctor came in. Dr. Eric Jackson. One of the youngest doctors on staff at the Arkadia hospital, but he was the one her mom had recommended for this pregnancy. He didn’t split his time between this and other local clinics like Dr. Tsing did, so when the time came to deliver, he’d definitely be able to be there.

“Alright, you two,” Dr. Jackson said, taking a seat at the computer. He pulled up her file quickly and said, “Everything looks great. Your bloodwork’s normal, and the ultrasound showed us exactly what we would expect. It seems like you’re experiencing the model pregnancy.”

“I am?” Wouldn’t the model pregnancy involve fewer bathroom breaks?

“Yes. The baby’s growing nicely, you’re growing nicely,” Dr. Jackson said. “Everything’s on its right course.”

“That’s good to hear,” Bellamy said, finally taking a seat himself. He pulled his chair up next to hers and asked, “So when it comes time for the actual delivery, you’re gonna be our doctor, right?”

“Right,” the doctor said with a nod.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at him, inquiring, “And how many babies have you delivered before?”

“Oh . . . too many to count.”

Bellamy still looked skeptical. “You just look really young,” he said.

Dr. Jackson didn’t take offense at that. He shrugged and joked, “Then I guess the Botox is working.”

Clarke laughed, happy that her doctor had a sense of humor. She might need him to crack some jokes during the delivery, just to lighten things up a little bit.

“Don’t worry, Bellamy,” Dr. Jackson said. “I assure you, I’ve learned from the best.”

“He means my mom,” Clarke clarified.

“Your mom’s delivered babies?” Bellamy asked

“She’s a general doctor. That means she’s pretty much done everything at some point.” No way in hell was her mom delivering _her_ baby, though. In fact, Clarke didn’t envision even having her back in the delivery room. It would just be too chaotic having her mom shouting instructions at her while her actual doctor did the same.

“We’ll set up a birthing plan during your third trimester, make sure everything’s scheduled to go exactly the way you want it,” Dr. Jackson said. “But for now, just keep doing what you’re doing and enjoy your second trimester.”

_Enjoy?_ Clarke thought. That was easier said than done. She’d pretty much gotten used to being pregnant at this point, but still, she was looking forward to her body going back to normal after all of this.

“Any questions?” Dr. Jackson asked.

“Um, yeah.” There was pretty much one huge question that was sort of . . . lingering over everything else. “What about the gender? Do you think we should just find out?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s completely up to you,” the doctor said. “Some first-time parents like to be surprised, but some like knowing in advance. I’m afraid I can’t make that decision for you.”

Clarke bit her bottom lip unsurely and looked over at Bellamy. “What do you think?” she asked him.

“I told you, babe, it’s up to you.”

It wasn’t _just_ up to her, though. He was going through this pregnancy with her, every step of the way, and she could tell the curiosity was killing him. “You wanna know,” she said.

“I mean . . . I wouldn’t _mind_ knowing,” he admitted.

“I don’t think I’d mind knowing, either,” she decided. “We just keep calling it ‘the baby’ or . . . well, ‘it.’ But it’s not an it. It’s a he or a she.” She rubbed her tummy lovingly. “And once we know, we could start narrowing down names.”

Bellamy got this excited look on his face, and his feet started tapping, like he was just itching to get up and start pacing around again.

“So would you like to know?” Dr. Jackson asked again. “It was pretty clear on the ultrasound.”

“That means it has a penis,” Clarke predicted. That would be the kind of thing that would be clear to see, at least for a trained professional.

“It could still be a girl,” Bellamy said. “I wanna know.”

“Yeah, I wanna know, too,” she said, her mind made up. “But not right now. We should make a bigger deal out of it, don’t you think?”

Bellamy made a face. “What, like one of those gender reveal parties?”

“Yeah.” She’d seen some stuff on Pinterest that made it all look . . . a little excessive, but also really fun.

“Those are definitely the hot new trend,” Dr. Jackson said. “If you want, we can send the gender to someone in your family or a trusted friend, and they can surprise you.”

“Let’s do that,” Clarke said. “That’ll be fun.” There were so many aspects of being pregnant that felt like a chore, honestly, that she needed something fun to look forward to.

Bellamy nodded in agreement and said, “Alright, doc, I can tell you right now, she’s gonna want you to send it to Raven Reyes.”

Clarke smiled. Of course she’d trust her best friend in the world with such an important reveal. And of course her boyfriend knew that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy knew nothing about gender reveal parties, so he was more than happy to let Raven just have at it and do all the planning. It only took her a few days to throw the whole thing together, but the wait was torture. He just wanted to know; he wanted to know so badly. At night, he and Clarke would lie awake sometimes speculating.

They ended up having the party at Eligius. The owner agreed to let them have the space for an entire Saturday afternoon. Bellamy didn’t know what to expect when he walked in, but he should have known that Raven wouldn’t half-ass anything.

“Oh my god, look at all of this!” Clarke exclaimed.

It was really something, that was for sure. Above the bar hung a huge banner that said, _Boy or Girl?_ And there were balloons and streamers everywhere, pink and blue, of course. A wide array of desserts littered the bar, including two cakes, one with pink frosting and one with blue. There were pink and blue cookies, too, pink and blue plates and napkins, and even pink lemonade, along with a blue drink that Bellamy assumed to be Gatorade.

“Raven is so creative,” Clarke said, grabbing a blue cookie.

“Damn right she is,” Raven agreed as she walked behind them carrying more pink lemonade mix. “And you owe me. Throwing together a gender reveal party right before Christmas?” She exhaled dramatically.

“You’re a good best friend,” Clarke said, giving her a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Raven said, her smile a clear indicator that she really didn’t mind putting in some work to make this happen. “This just _ensures_ that I’m gonna be the godmother, right?”

“You’re at the top of the list,” Clarke told her.

Raven did a celebratory fist-pump at her side and then headed back behind the bar to mix up some more lemonade.

“That was nice of your boss to let us use this place,” Bellamy said, putting his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders as they moved throughout the bar, checking out the decorations. Someone had Photoshopped pictures of him and Clarke with babies, both boys and girls. That had to be Murphy’s doing.

“Yeah, it’s a good space,” Clarke agreed. “I’m kind of surprised how many people showed up.”

“Why?” It was Arkadia. It wasn’t like anything else was going on.

“I don’t know, I just figured it’d be our family and friends,” she said. “But I see some people from some of my classes here. Like, acquaintances, you know.” She waved at a few of them, then said, “Oh, and there’s Callie,” with fake cheerfulness in her voice.

“Your mom’s friend?” Bellamy scanned the room for her and saw her talking to Abby. Yep, that was the woman who’d hit on him and earned Clarke’s ire.

“Yep. Still haven’t apologized to her,” Clarke said. “And I don’t plan to.”

Bellamy looked around for his mom, hoping she’d get there soon. She had to work, so she’d told him she might be a little late. She’d be bringing Octavia with her, of course, and Octavia would probably drag Lincoln along.

Harper scuttled up to them suddenly and said, “Hey, don’t mind me,” as she bent down to get a closer look at Clarke’s stomach. “I gotta check something.” She looked at some photos on her phone and declared, “You’re carrying high. That means it’s a girl.”

“Does it?” Clarke asked.

“Yep.” Harper showed her a few images on Google to demonstrate the difference between carrying high and carrying low, and although Bellamy took a peek, they pretty much looked the same to him.

As it turned out, Harper wasn’t the only one there guessing about the gender. A lot of women stopped Clarke to ask her how she was doing and what her symptoms were. There were a lot of . . . superstitions, it seemed, and anyone there who had a child themselves was using their own experience to make their predictions.

Finally, they got to the back table, which was actually two tables pushed together. They were decorated, too. There were Hershey’s chocolate bars set out on top of it, some of which had the _he_ of the logo colored in with blue and some of which had the _she_ colored in pink. In addition, there were some cans of silly string available for people to crab, again both blue and pink, and in the center of the table was a sheet for people to write down their guesses. “Wow, look at all these predictions,” Clarke said.

“Pretty evenly split,” he noticed. Abby and Kane had both guessed that it was a girl, but Lexa and Murphy’s names were both on the boy side.

“What’re these?” he asked, picking up one of about a half dozen folded pieces of paper on display on that table. They were set out like nameplates, but they had full sentences on them.

“Old wives tales,” Clarke said. “There’s, like, no science behind any of them whatsoever, but some people swear they’re true.”

“Huh.” He read the one in his hand first to himself, then out loud to her. “Sweet versus salty cravings. Sweet means it’s a girl; salty means it’s a boy.”

“Well, what if I’m just craving everything?” she said.

“Then that just means you’re pregnant.” She definitely wasn’t discriminating between sweet and salty foods, so that one was no help. He set it back down and picked up another. “Excessive morning sickness is said to be a sign that you’re having a girl,” he read.

“It was bad for a while there,” she recalled. “But it’s tapered off.”

“What’s this one?” He smiled as he read the next one. “Pregnancy glow. It is said that little . . .” The words got mixed around as he looked at them, so he had to stop and start over again. “it is said that little girls steal their mother’s looks, so a pregnancy glow is actually an indicator of a boy.”

“Hmm, you do say I’m glowing.”

Clarke had enough good looks that nobody could steal them all, though, so that one did little to convince him. “Moody versus mellow,” he went on. “Moody means you’re having a girl.” He didn’t want to say anything that would get him in trouble, but she had been blaming a lot of outbursts on pregnancy hormones lately. “Well . . .”

“Just make your prediction,” she said.

“Alright.” He picked up a pencil and jotted his name down on the girl side. “I’m very confident.”

“How?” she said. “I’m the one carrying the kid, and I don’t even know.”

“It’s a girl,” he declared. “Trust me.” He really didn’t know why he had such a strong feeling about it, but he did. In fact, he’d barely even entertained names for boys, because he was so sure they weren’t getting one.

“I’m gonna go with a boy just to be different than you,” she said, scribbling her name on the other side.

“Oh, it’s on,” he said. “I can’t wait to be right.”

“Here,” she said, handing him a canister of silly string, “I think you take the pink stuff now since that was your guess.”

“Sweet.” He hadn’t gotten to play around with silly string in a while, and just having some in his hand made him feel like a kid himself again. He shook it up and aimed it at her, but she warned, “Don’t squirt any on me,” before he had the chance to do so.

Leaning down, he spoke quietly into her ear and teased, “That’s not what you said last night,” before giving her cheek a big kiss.

The party wasn’t anything like Bellamy’s birthday had been. There was music playing from the jukebox, but people weren’t dancing, and despite the fact that they were in a bar, no alcohol was being served. It was mostly an excuse for people to mix and mingle, and obviously Clarke was in high demand for that. Bellamy ended up meeting some new people, girls she had classes with or who she’d hung out with back when she’d lived in the dorms. There were some people from high school who’d shown up, most of whom looked completely different. Everyone, man or woman, had just gotten a lot . . . bigger. Fatter. Comparing himself to them made Bellamy feel pretty good about himself and glad that he hadn’t let himself get out of shape.

His mom and Octavia showed up about an hour into the party, and Octavia made sure to explain to him that Lincoln had wanted to come but that he was recovering from the flu and didn’t want to risk Clarke getting sick. She wrote his prediction down for him, though—boy. His mom shook her head at that and said, “I don’t think so. I’m trusting my son’s instinct on this one,” and she scrawled her name on the girl side of the chart.

“I’m trusting Clarke’s instinct,” Octavia said, putting her name beneath Lincoln’s.

Bellamy couldn’t help but notice that about sixty percent of the predictions seemed to be falling on the boy side now. Was it really because Clarke had put her name over there, he wondered? Did people believe her more than him just because she was the mother, or because . . . because he wasn’t even biologically the father? He didn’t vocalize the question to anyone, but it sort of floated around in the back of his mind while he continued to mix and mingle.

About an hour into the party, Bellamy’s minute insecurity amplified when he looked outside and saw none other than the _actual_ biological father walking around on the sidewalk, pacing back and forth, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Finn looked like he wanted to come in, but he never did, and Bellamy wanted to make sure it stayed that way. Inconspicuously, he slipped away from Clarke, leaving her to chat up some of her former fellow cheerleaders, and ventured outside to confront her ex on her behalf.

“What do you want?” he growled, not even bothering to hide his disdain that the guy had had the audacity to show up here.

“Nothing,” Finn muttered, letting the cigarette drop from his mouth. He snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe and said, “I just heard this was going on today, so I thought . . . maybe I could swing by.”

“Maybe not,” Bellamy snapped. He wasn’t needed, hadn’t been invited, so there was no reason for him to be there.

“Look,” Finn said, “I realize you’ve stepped in or whatever . . .”

“No, not whatever,” Bellamy interrupted vehemently. “You don’t get to skip out on all the ultrasounds and doctor’s appointments and every day-to-day thing in this pregnancy and then just show up for the fun stuff. That’s not how it works.” He was the one who’d been there for Clarke through all of this, and he’d continue being the one who went through everything with her. Finn had made it perfectly clear that he wanted no part in it, so as far as Bellamy was concerned, showing up to this party was just his pathetic attempt to make himself seem like less of a loser than he actually was.

Thinking about it for a moment, Finn nodded reluctantly and mumbled, “Fair enough.”

_Damn right it’s far_ , Bellamy thought, glaring at the guy. Until he walked away, he wasn’t going to be satisfied.

“I would like to know, once you guys find out,” Finn said, whipping another cigarette out of his pocket. “If that’s not too much to ask.” Shoulders slumped, head drooping, he stepped down off the sidewalk and trudged across the street. Although he got in his car, he didn’t drive off. And Bellamy suspected he wasn’t going to.

Not wanting to miss out on any more of the party, Bellamy headed back inside, hoping Clarke’s friends and acquaintances had kept her sufficiently distracted so that she didn’t even know Finn had been loitering outside. She didn’t need him to be a damper on her day.

Kane intercepted him close to the door and asked, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, casting a quick glance at Abby to see if she’d caught sight of him out there, too. Apparently she hadn’t, because she and Callie were clucking with laughter. His mom was sort of standing near them, but it was clear that she wasn’t actually part of their conversation.

“Alright, I think it’s time to do the damn thing,” Raven suddenly announced, motioning for someone—Miller, he presumed—to cut the music.

“Where’d he go?” Clarke asked, looking around. “Bellamy!” When she spotted him, she motioned him over. “Come on.”

Pushing Finn out of his mind, he ambled up to his girlfriend again and put his arm around her waist.

“Alright, everybody, gather round,” Raven said as she arranged all the guests in a circle. She grabbed his and Clarke’s hands and pulled them over to an empty round table. “You two sit here,” she said. “Murphy, are you filming?”

“Always,” her boyfriend replied.

Bellamy held Clarke’s chair out for her, then took a seat next to her and scooted his chair closer to the table. They were really doing this. Months of not knowing, and now they were gonna know.

As everyone quieted down and watched in anticipation, Raven handed them a black balloon and said, “Okay, in this balloon is confetti. Either pink or blue. Nobody knows. Except me.” She grinned smugly, as if she liked being the only one in that bar with the knowledge. “When I count to three, you’re gonna pop the balloon and find out what you’re having. Now, if we look at all the predictions . . .” She motioned Harper over, who had the chart in her hand. “It seems like a slim majority says boy. Including the mother.”

“Look, I just want a happy, healthy baby,” Clarke said. “It doesn’t matter what gender it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say.” Raven handed Clarke a small pin and said, “Here you go. Pop whenever you’re ready.”

Clarke chewed on her lower lip for a moment, a sign of her nervousness, and handed the pin to Bellamy. “You do it,” she told him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Even though these gender reveal things were really more of a spectacle than they needed to be, he kind of felt . . . privileged to get to do the honors. “Okay,” he said, holding up the balloon. He looked to Raven just to make sure it was okay.

“On the count of three,” she said. “One . . .”

“You ready?” Bellamy asked his girl.

She nodded.

“Two . . .” Raven went on, joined by the other guests this time. “Three!”

Bellamy jabbed the balloon with the pin, and he and Clarke both jumped a bit when it popped. And out came loads of pink confetti.

“It’s a girl!” Raven exclaimed as everyone clapped and cheered.

_A girl_ , Bellamy thought, shaking pink confetti off his face. _Wow_.

Beside him, Clarke was all smiles, half-laughing, half-crying. “You were right!” she said to him.

He was. He couldn’t explain how he’d known, how he’d sensed something about a child that wasn’t even technically his. But he’d sensed it all along.

“You okay?” he asked, rubbing her back as her crying started to intensify. They were clearly happy tears, though, and she nodded to assure him of that. “Come here,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. She held him tightly and cried on him while everyone said things like “Aww,” and “That’s so sweet.” He understood it being an emotional moment for her. Hell, if there hadn’t been dozens of people looking on, he would have cried, too.

Obviously the reveal itself was the highlight of the party, but it didn’t end right after that. Everyone took their turns congratulating Clarke, and most of them congratulated him, too. He thanked them, of course, but out of the corner of his eye, he kept noticing Finn’s car still parked across the street. It was a damn distraction if nothing else. Bellamy really wanted to just forget about him and be completely present at the party, but the only way to do that was to get him gone.

When Clarke took a bathroom break, he ducked outside again, this time with one of those Hershey’s bars in hand. He marched across the street, and impatiently knocked on Finn’s window. The guy had fallen asleep, but he jolted awake when Bellamy knocked and rolled down the window. Wordlessly, Bellamy tossed the candy bar onto his lap, letting him see for himself that the _she_ of the logo was colored in pink. There. Now he knew.

Finn didn’t say anything, not even a thank you, so Bellamy didn’t bother to stick around. He headed back across the street to rejoin his girl— _girls_ —at their party.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Minus Finn’s cameo, it’d been a good day. Bellamy didn’t bother to tell Clarke about it, figuring she was better off not knowing. Instead, he spent the evening focused on her and the baby. The second they got home, even though she was tired, she said she wanted to brainstorm baby names. Apparently one of her many apps said that they were supposed to have started that a couple weeks ago, and she didn’t want to be behind schedule. The first step, she said, was ruling out some names, so she wanted him to make a list of every former lover he’d ever had. Because those names were automatically ruled out to her.

That list took several sheets of paper.

“Hey, Bellamy?” she called into the bathroom that night as he brushed his teeth.

“Yeah?” He spit and rinsed, then shut the light off and stepped out into the bedroom.

“I think we should be reading to the baby more,” she said, scrolling through something on her iPad. “There’s a lot of research out there that says it— _she_ —can hear us. And we wanna build her vocabulary, right?”

“Not sure I’m the best person to do that,” he said, settling down on his side of the bed.

“You’re the perfect person to do that,” she insisted. “Remember when you used to read to me?”

He snorted. “Only because you forced me to study.”

“I always thought it was relaxing.”

He wasn’t sure how on earth him stumbling over sentences and mixing words around had been relaxing, but it’d helped him increase his fluency just a little bit, if nothing else. “Well, anything to relax my Princess,” he said. “Or Princess _es_ , I should say.”

“Ooh, Princesses. You’re gonna have a field day with that.” She leaned over and set her iPad on the nightstand, plugging it in to charge it up. “Maybe I should sing to her sometime,” she said. “Do you think she’d like that?”

What kind of question was that? Who didn’t enjoy hearing Clarke sing? “She’d love it,” he said. Maybe she’d even take after her mom and be a good singer herself.

****

_Bellamy heard music as he walked up the stairs to Clarke’s bedroom. Her guitar. She was playing her guitar again. And she was singing._

“Just think of the future  
And think of your dreams  
You’ll get away from here  
You’ll get away eventually.”

_She sat on the side of her bed, her back to him, so in the zone that she didn’t even hear him come to stand in the doorway. He hung back and just watched her, just listened._

“So just think of the future  
Think of a new life  
Don’t get lost in the memories  
Keep your eyes on a new prize.”

_Something must have alerted her to his presence then, some little sound or maybe just some sense of him, because she looked over her shoulder and stopped playing._

_“That’s pretty,” he said, treading into the bedroom. He didn’t close the door because . . . he was under strict orders not to._

_“Oh, thanks,” she said. “It’s, uh, Paramore.”_

_“I have no idea who that is.” He sat down next to her, sort of regretting that he’d interrupted. It would’ve been nice to just stand there and listen to her sing some more. “An artist, a musician,” he said, pretty blown away by her talent. “I can’t wait ‘til you tell your mom you’re not gonna be a doctor after all.”_

_She laughed lightly, then said, “No, I probably will just end up going to med school.”_

_“We’ll see.” For some reason, he just didn’t see Clarke following in her mom’s footsteps. She was book-smart, sure, but she was also creative. Her parents probably didn’t put a whole lot of stock in creative careers, but . . . she was really good._

_“Did you sneak up here?” she asked, setting her guitar down on the floor. “I know there’s no way my parents gave you permission.”_

_“They did, actually,” he informed her. “For five minutes. And the door has to stay wide open.”_

_“Damn.”_

_“Yeah.” If they’d been at his house, the door could have—and would have—been closed. “I just wanted to come give you your Christmas present before you leave for your grandma’s tomorrow,” he said, pulling a small black box out of his pocket. “Your mom saw this, and I’m pretty sure she’s freaking out right now, so after I leave, make sure you go down and show her it’s not a ring.”_

_“Okay, I will,” she said, taking the box from him. “Can I open it?”_

_“Yeah.” This was actually the first time he’d gotten a girl a gift for Christmas. Besides his mom and his sister, of course. He and Bree had never been serious enough for that. So he was actually a little nervous. Hopefully she’d like it._

_When she opened the box, she gasped at what was inside. “Oh my god, Bellamy,” she said, taking out the silver necklace. “This is beautiful.”_

_It wasn’t expensive or anything, because it wasn’t real silver, and it was basically just a charm necklace. But on the silver circle that hung from the chain were the words_ To me, you are perfect. _“I know it’s kinda cheesy,” he admitted, “but . . . I just saw it and thought of you.”_

_“I’m not perfect, though,” she said._

_“No, see . . . to_ me.” _He pointed at that word to emphasize. “To_ me, _you are perfect.”_

_“Isn’t that from some movie?” she asked._

_“Probably.”_ Love, Actually, _if he recalled. He’d watched it with his mom, not by choice._

_“Well, I love it,” she said. “Can you put it on for me?”_

_“Sure.” He took the necklace from her and unhooked it as she turned around. She pulled her hair over her shoulder, exposing so much smooth, soft skin on her back and shoulders. She was only wearing a spaghetti strap top, pretty clearly with no bra underneath, and she looked so damn pretty._

_With his big fingers, it took him a moment to secure the necklace around her neck, but once he did, he didn’t even ask her to turn around. Instead, he put his hands on her back, completely mesmerized by the sight of her pale skin, such a contrast to his. Her whole body stilled, like she was barely breathing as he touched her. And he wanted to touch her more. He wanted to take her shirt off, his shirt off, and feel her chest against his. He wanted her to_ only _be wearing that necklace. There was just something about Clarke, about her body and the way it fit with his . . . it was hard to keep his hands off of her._

_Slowly, probably because of the fact that the door was hanging wide open and her parents were right downstairs, Clarke turned to face him again. The necklace hung right in her cleavage, a tempting sight if he’d ever seen one. It looked good on her, just as he’d known it would._

_“I wish we had more than five minutes,” he said quietly, taking her hands in his._

_“Me, too,” she whispered back._

_Stroking his thumbs over her knuckles, he wondered if even five hours would have been enough, though. Probably not. No matter how much time he had with Clarke, he always found himself wanting more._

****

_Where is that necklace?_ Bellamy wondered, looking over at Clarke’s dresser. That thing was a cluttered mess, so he usually didn’t go anywhere near it, but he wondered if she still had it. Hopefully she did. He couldn’t imagine she’d thrown it away.

“Did you make the list?” Clarke asked him, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“I did,” he said. “Did you make yours?”

“Yep. Didn’t take me very long.” She held up a bright pink Post-It note that had a few names written on it.

“You can start then,” he told her.

“Alright. No Lexa or Niylah.”

“Niylah?” he echoed. “Who’s Niylah?”

“This girl I’ve hooked up with a few times.”

His eyebrows shot upward with intrigue. “Is she hot?”

“Not as hot as Lexa,” she said before whacking his shoulder. “Will you focus?”

“Sorry.” The thought of Clarke and another girl was just . . . good stuff.

“Also, no Natalie,” she went on, “because I was tormented in fourth grade by this girl named Natalie. No Casey, because that just makes me think of Casey’s gas station. And no Alyssa, for obvious reasons.”

“Okay.” None of those names had even been on his radar. “Anything else?”

“Nope, I’m pretty much open to other suggestions, as long as it’s not the same name as someone you slept with. Hence the list.”

“Hence the list.” He took it out of the pocket of his sweatpants and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

At first, she didn’t seem very alarmed, because he’d folded it all up into small squares. But when she actually unfolded it and then just shook it out like a long receipt, her eyes bulged. “Dear God, Bellamy,” she gasped. “How did you remember all these people?”

“It took me a while,” he admitted. He’d ended up taping a couple of pages together.

“Oh, there’s Roma,” she said, starting at the top. “Is this in chronological order?”

“Roughly.” There were probably a few names missing, but he felt like he’d gotten most of them.

“Bree,” she scoffed. “Oh, look, there I am.”

Yep, she was at the bottom of the first page. With a smiley face next to her name.

“So many Staceys,” she remarked as she skimmed the list. “Who _are_ some of these girls? Lucia? Callisto? Marquesa?”

“That was Italy,” he said. Lucia and Callisto had been at the same time.

“Alejandra,” she read. “Maria. That must be the Mexico phase.”

“Yep.” Maria had actually been a three-night stand instead of a one-night.

“This is overwhelming,” she told him.

“Sorry.” She’d asked for the list, so he’d went ahead and made it.

“You realize you’ve pretty much forced me to narrow it down to, like, Karen, don’t you?”

“Oh, no, there’s a Karen on there,” he recalled.

“Where?”

“Right about . . .” It was like a fucking scavenger hunt trying to find her name, but he knew she was before the Mexico chicks. “Here,” he said, pointing her out. “Canada Karen.”

“This is insane,” she said, gripping his list tightly, like she wanted to tear it into shreds. “My list is, like, normal, and then yours is something that should be housed in the Library of Congress.”

“Okay, how about this?” He took it back from her and set it aside, feeling like she’d just get pissed if she looked at it for too much longer. “I’ll tell you some names I like, and you can either veto them or keep them under consideration.”

“And you promise they won’t be on that gargantuan list?”

“I promise.” Granted, his extensive sexual history made coming up with names difficult, but there were a few he liked that were definitely _not_ former lovers.

“Okay, go for it,” she said.

“Alright. Isabel.”

“Veto,” she replied quickly.

“Hazel.”

She made a face. “Major veto.”

“Macy.”

“Hard pass.”

He cringed, hoping she at least liked the next one, because it was one of his favorites. “Avery.”

Again, she made a face. “Isn’t that, like, a bird cage?”

“No, that’s aviary.”

“But you like . . . _Avery_.” She said the name slowly, as if she were testing it out.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just do.” He couldn’t even remember where he’d heard it, but it’d stuck with him. “And I looked it up. It means ‘wise.’”

“Well, I do want her to be wise,” she said. “Hmm. Avery. That’s kind of pretty.”

“That one’s still in the running then?” He could always think of some others, but at least he hadn’t gone 0-4.

“Yeah,” she said. “Avery.” She smiled and said, “This is kind of fun.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we know now.”

“It’s a lot of pressure, though,” she said. “I mean, this is her _name_. She’s gonna be stuck with it her whole life.”

“Hey, I’ve made it through life as Bellamy,” he pointed out. “If I can make it, she can, too.”

That got a small laugh out of her and a nod of agreement. “True.”

Honestly, as unusual as his name was, he didn’t hate it. It meant ‘good-looking companion,’ and that was pretty fitting if he did say so himself. Besides, it fit well with his last name.

_Last name_ , he thought. What was this baby’s last name going to be?

It was late, and although they’d had a good day, they were both tired. He wasn’t going to bring that up right now. They had time to figure that out. “Whatever her name ends up being,” he said, placing his hand atop Clarke’s stomach, “she’s gonna be amazing.” _Just like her mom_ , he thought. And it didn’t matter what her first name was, or even her last name. She was going to be _his_ daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, yeah, the gender reveal was TOTALLY inspired by that adorable gif of Beliza at SDCC 2018 popping that balloon. :)


	31. Chapter 31

_Chapter 31_

At the beginning of the year, Clarke never would have imagined that she would struggle through a final exam. The one she had for Jaha’s class was lengthy and intensive—essay questions on top of essay questions—and she didn’t feel like she’d adequately prepared for it. The timing was bad, as it was scheduled for only a few days before Christmas, one of the latest finals the university allowed. Although that may have given her more time to study, she hadn’t studied as much as she could have. She just fell asleep so early these days.

So many people around her were finishing up, taking their exams to the front of the lecture hall and leaving, but Clarke was only halfway through the test booklet. A quick glance at the clock alerted her to the fact that she had to pick up the pace, and she wrote quickly, her handwriting an absolute mess. Just like a doctor’s.

With twenty minutes left and two essays still remaining for her to answer, her back started to hurt. _Badly_. When she sat for too long, especially in an uncomfortable chair, the discomfort kicked in. She would have loved to have been able to stand up and go walk around for a little bit, but time was of the essence, and it wasn’t like she could just get up and leave the room during a final exam. So she sat there and tried to tough it out, tried to stay focused on what she was doing. But she had to keep twisting to the sides and stretching out as much as she could. Although she tried to be inconspicuous, the guy sitting a few seats down from her shot her a semi-annoyed look, like she was distracting him.

It felt like two worlds were colliding—her academics and her pregnancy—and not in a good way.

“Time’s up,” Professor Jaha announced before she’d actually had time to finish the last essay. She shook her head, displeased with her own effort, and quickly finished her last sentence. It wasn’t _meant_ to be her last sentence, but it would have to suffice.

“Please bring your exams to the front,” Jaha instructed.

Out of the sixty or so people in that class, it seemed that only about a dozen remained. It took Clarke longer to gather up her things than almost everyone else, and she ended up being the last one to hand her test booklet in. She thought about apologizing to her professor for such rushed work, but then she thought better of it, deciding it best to not give him any preconceived notions about what she’d written.

“Clarke,” Jaha said, motioning her back to him on her way out.

_Oh, no_ , she thought. _He’s disappointed_. The struggle must have been written all over her face. He’d probably expected her to be one of the first ones done, not one of the last.

“I wanted to wait until the class was over,” he said, “to offer my congratulations.”

“For what?” she asked.

“Well . . .” He trailed off and motioned to her belly.

“Oh, that.” There really was no hiding it anymore. It was obvious. “Thanks,” she said. “It was . . . unexpected.”

“My son congratulates you, too,” Jaha told her. “Hard to believe the two of you used to date, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Feels like a lifetime ago.” And in some ways, it was.

“So when are you due?” Jaha inquired.

“Close to graduation, actually.” They had her due date set for a couple of days afterward, so it was going to be a crazy month of May.

“Ah.” Jaha nodded, looking as though he wanted to say more. But he didn’t. An awkward silence descended onto them, and Clarke wasn’t sure what to do to break it. She thought about asking him how Wells was doing when, suddenly, he spoke again. “So do you still plan on enrolling in med school next fall?” he asked.

Med school? Honestly, with everything that had happened these past few months, she hadn’t given it much consideration. “I’m not sure,” she answered vaguely. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

“Well, I do hope this doesn’t . . .” Jaha paused as he considered his word choice. “. . . derail your ambition. You’re a talented student with great potential. And I’m sure your mother wants to see you follow in her footsteps.”

Her mother sure did, but the longer this pregnancy wore on, the less likely it was starting to seem. “Right now, I’m kind of just taking things one day at a time,” she admitted.

“Of course. But please, let me know if I can be of any assistance,” her professor offered. “There are resources here at the university, people who can help you schedule your enrollment so that you’d only have to take one semester off, at most.”

She realized he was just trying to be nice and helpful and everything, but this wasn’t exactly a conversation she wanted to have. So she wrapped it up with a quick, “Thanks,” and then said she had to be going. Which was a lie. Her final exams were all done. There was nothing she had to do now.

The test anxiety she’d felt for the past two hours seemed to have vanished as she walked out of the building and out onto the familiar sidewalks of campus. Or at the very least, it’d morphed into a different kind of anxiety. Jaha had seemed . . . sort of concerned about her future now. As if becoming a mother was going to limit her. He’d been teaching at the university for years now, so maybe he’d seen it happen before. But the thought of having to push med school back a semester, or maybe even a full year . . . it didn’t sound awful to her. In fact, she kind of liked the thought of having some time after graduation to just focus on her family. In the grand scheme of things, wasn’t that more important?

When she got to her car, she just sat down in the driver’s seat, stuck the key in the ignition, and didn’t even turn it. The stress she was feeling was . . . a little much right now, and she’d read some suggestion about doing deep breathing whenever worries started to plague her. She wasn’t a meditation guru by any means, but she did her best to pull in some relaxing breaths and clear her mind. Finals were over, nothing she could do about them now, and this med school issue was something she had time to figure out after the holidays. She was on break now, not even scheduled to work for the next couple of days, and she intended to enjoy it.

Just as she was about to twist the key and turn on the car, she felt . . . something. A fluttering feeling in her stomach, at first barely noticeable. But as she froze and concentrated on the odd sensation, she felt it again. It was almost like butterflies in her stomach, except she wasn’t nervous. And it was different somehow.

It was the _baby_. Had to be, right? Here she was, halfway through her pregnancy, and she had yet to feel the baby kick.

The fluttering feeling continued, and she whipped her cell phone out of her purse to call Bellamy. _Please answer_ , she thought. If he was working, he wouldn’t have his phone with him, but if he was still on his lunch break, then maybe he would.

On the third ring, he picked up the phone with a, “Hey, Princess.”

“Bellamy,” she gasped, holding her free hand to her stomach.

She must have sounded worked up or out of breath or something, because right away, he asked, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” It _hadn’t_ been okay during that exam, but now it was. “I think the baby’s kicking,” she told him excitedly.

“What?”

“Yeah. I feel it.” She pictured her daughter in there turning over or doing backflips. Like a little acrobat. “It’s either that or just gas,” she said. But if it was gas, she thought she’d maybe feel sick or at least like she needed to use the bathroom. And she didn’t feel that way.

Bellamy laughed and asked her, “What’s it feel like?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.” She knew it wasn’t likely that he’d be able to feel any movement yet, as everything she’d read said that mothers naturally felt things sooner than their partners did. But she still would have loved for him to be sitting next to her right now, experiencing this with her. “I wish you were here,” she said wistfully.

“Me, too,” he said. “I could try to take off work early.”

“No, you don’t have to.” She didn’t want him to get in trouble with his boss or get a job strike or anything. “Maybe she’ll still be kicking when you get home.”

“Maybe,” he said, sounding a little sad that he was missing out. But when he said, “I love you,” he sounded happy again.

“I love you, too,” she told him as the sensation in her stomach died down. In that moment, she felt like she was saying those words to both of them, to her boyfriend and her baby.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Christmas Eve came a few days after finals ended, and with it came some relaxation for Clarke. Hosting Thanksgiving had been a good idea, because it basically got her and Bellamy off the hook for this holiday. Nobody expected them to make anything or do much of anything. They just wanted them to show up. Well, Bellamy’s mom wanted them to show up. Clarke’s mom, on the other hand . . . she probably would have been fine if Clarke had shown up to her house _solo_ on Christmas Day. But obviously that wasn’t gonna happen.

The plan was to spend Christmas Eve at his mom’s house, wake up, and open presents there in the morning. After that, they would all go over to her mother’s to have Christmas dinner. How late that would go was anyone’s guess, but Clarke knew it wouldn’t be hard to make an excuse to get out of there early if they needed to. Being pregnant came in handy for that kind of thing.

Aurora had to work at the hotel until 6:00 p.m., but she still came home and whipped up dinner for the three of them. Nothing fancy, but it hit the spot. Afterward, Clarke lay down on the couch, curled up with Bellamy, feeling lazy as fuck since Aurora was doing all the dishes on her own. Bellamy offered to help her, but his mom would have none of it.

“So you felt her kick the other day, huh?” Aurora said as she scampered back and forth from the living room to the kitchen, collecting a few glasses that hadn’t made it into the sink with everything else.

“Yeah.” Clarke smiled just thinking about it. She hadn’t felt anything else since, but all her apps promised that she’d soon be feeling a lot.

“First time?” Aurora asked.

“Yep. Which I was really relieved about, because I know they say you have to wait a while to feel the baby move when you’re a first-time mom, but I was getting worried.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Bellamy said, tightening his arm around her shoulders. “Doctor said you’re having the model pregnancy, remember?”

“Hmm.” She still wasn’t completely convinced about that, because her signs and symptoms did sure know how to make life a lot less comfortable for her. But she supposed it could be a lot worse.

“Bellamy, were you able to feel anything?” his mom asked after she’d returned to the kitchen.

“No,” he answered, so much disappointment in that one word.

“I think it takes a little longer for other people to be able to feel it,” Clarke said. “Right?”

“Usually,” Aurora confirmed. “Although Octavia . . .” She came back into the living room, drying off a glass. “I swear that girl started kicking at the end of the first trimester.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Bellamy muttered as the front door swung open. And in walked Octavia herself, dressed in what appeared to be a new winter coat and matching hat.

“What’s not surprising?” she asked nosily as she caught the tail end of the conversation.

“You being a brat,” Bellamy replied, “even in the womb.”

“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned. “Merry Christmas to you, too, big brother.”

He just smirked at her.

“Hey, Octavia,” Clarke said sleepily, not quite able to lift her head off of Bellamy’s chest. She did lift her hand, though. More of a flick of the wrist, really, but it counted as a wave.

“Hey, Clarke,” Octavia said. “You look . . . comfy.”

“As comfy as I can get,” she grumbled. Nothing was super comfortable these days.

“That’s why we’re not moving,” Bellamy said.

“Oh, really?” Octavia peeled her coat off and tossed it over the back of the recliner, then sat down on the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you’re not just lazy?”

“That, too,” Bellamy admitted.

_He’s only lazy because I am_ , Clarke thought. If she hadn’t turned into such a blob on that couch, he’d totally be up in the kitchen with his mom, helping her put plates and silverware away.

“Well, Christmas with Lincoln’s family was a blast,” Octavia informed them, even though no one had asked about it. “Did you guys know they have one of those huge holiday light displays? It’s timed with music and everything. It’s incredible. I got a video, so I’ll have to show you later.”

“Can’t wait,” Bellamy said sarcastically, earning a whack on the head from his sister.

Aurora re-emerged from the kitchen, this time without a towel or any dishes to be dried. “I never felt the need to bother with Christmas lights,” she said. “What about your mom, Clarke? Does she put anything up?”

“No,” Clarke replied, “but she hires people to put them up for her.”

“Oh.” Aurora nodded slowly.

“It’s nothing spectacular,” Clarke assured her. The lights were minimal at best, and they just went in the tree in the front yard.

“Next year we’ll be more festive,” Bellamy decided suddenly.

“We will?” she asked. “On the beach house?”

“Sure. Why not?”

She didn’t have anything against holiday decorations—in fact, she’d watched a few episodes of _The Great Christmas Light Fight_ this year—but she wasn’t used to seeing houses in her neighborhood with anything up. “We’d be the only ones around with Christmas lights,” she told him.

“That just means our house would look the best.”

“ _Your_ house?” Octavia said with a snort. “Isn’t it Clarke’s house?”

“Actually, it’s my parents’ house,” Clarke told her. “I pay rent.”

“I hope Bellamy’s been helping out with that,” Aurora said, taking a seat in her recliner.

“He has,” Clarke reassured her. “He helps me pay all the bills.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Mom,” he said. “The only person I freeload off of is you.”

“Good to know.”

“Yep.” Clarke snuggled closer to Bellamy, as close as her round tummy would allow, and yawned. “Your son’s a good boyfriend, Aurora. And a good roommate.” She wasn’t exactly sure how or when he’d started living with her. It wasn’t like they’d talked about it or had a day where they officially moved him in or anything. It’d just happened naturally and fluidly these past couple months. That house was his home now, too.

“Speaking of roommates,” Octavia segued, rising to her feet, “and living with a significant other . . .”

“I sense where this is going,” her mom cut in. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Octavia pouted and sat back down on the arm of the couch again.

Although she tried to stifle another yawn, Clarke just couldn’t do it. Another one came out, and Bellamy noticed it. “You tired?” he asked her.

“Yeah.” The longer they lay on that couch, the more tired she became.

“You wanna go to bed?” he asked.

“It’s still early,” she pointed out. It was probably just going on 8:00. Usually she managed to make it until . . . well, at least 8:30.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, sitting up, bringing her with him. “I’m tired, too. We can go to bed.” He helped her up off the couch and took her hand.

“If you two want, you can take my room,” his mom offered. “The bed’s bigger.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Clarke said. “We used to snuggle up in his bed all the time.”

Octavia grunted and mumbled, “Pretty sure you did a little more than snuggling.” And she was right. They had.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Bellamy said, leading her down the hall to his bedroom. Clarke loved how familiar it was, even after all these years. Aurora must have always hoped that her son would come back home, and that was probably why she hadn’t ever changed it.

“This brings me back,” Clarke said, as she stripped down to just her shirt and underwear.

“This is where it all happened,” he said, peeling off his shirt. “For the first time.”

“And the second,” she added. “And the third.”

Grinning, he peeled back the covers and got in the small bed, scooting as far over as he could to leave adequate space for her. It really wasn’t a bed meant for two people, but they’d make it work. They always had before.

“It’s getting harder to cuddle,” she said, struggling to get as close to him as she would have wanted.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He tried to put his arm around her, but . . . her bump was really just in the way, and they eventually both relented and just turned to lie on their sides, facing each other. Clarke’s side was still semi-comfortable to sleep on, but she was going to have to start elevating one leg with a pillow or something.

For a few seconds, Bellamy didn’t say anything. He just sort of . . . gazed at her, making eye contact with her even through the darkness of the bedroom.

“What?” she asked him.

“Nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking how lucky I am you chose me to be the one to . . . you know.”

“Pop my cherry?” she said. It’d definitely been a spontaneous thing, but she didn’t regret it. “Well, you were around, so it was just convenient.”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “Why’d you choose me?”

“I don’t know.” She’d never forget standing in that gym with Raven, babbling about how she no longer wanted to be a virgin, and then seeing Bellamy walk in. “It just felt right. Plus, you were really hot.”

That got a laugh out of him, but shortly after, his tone became more serious again, almost reflective. “What if you hadn’t?” he wondered aloud. “What if you’d slept with someone else that day? You think we still would’ve gotten together?”

She’d never actually thought about it, because that decision was just such a huge part of her history. It’d set a lot of things into motion for her. “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, you never noticed me.”

“Oh, I noticed,” he said. “It’s just . . . you were a freshman that first year you showed up. I couldn’t bother with freshmen.”

“Wow.”

“I was an ass, okay?”

Bellamy may have been a bit . . . explorative with girls in high school, but he’d never been an ass. Not to her knowledge, anyway. “No, I don’t blame you,” she said. “Me as a freshman . . . I wasn’t ready.”

“But you as a sophomore . . .”

“Horny as hell.” She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her that year, but at the time, it’d felt too good to even question it.

****

_In the middle of the meal preparation, Clarke managed to slip away from her family to take a phone call from Bellamy. With grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins buzzing about, it was hard to get a moment alone, but she ended up in the hallway that led back to her grandpa’s man-cave. He didn’t call it that, of course, but that was exactly what it was._

_“What do you mean, ‘What am I wearing?’” she asked him, feeling a little bit dirty. “You’ve never wanted to know before.” He went on to explain that he missed her, and that he wanted to be able to picture her in his mind right now, because he was in his bedroom getting ready to jack off. “Oh, I see,” she said, picturing him lying in his bed with his hand wrapped around his dick. The thought of him rubbing one out but pretending it was her hand or her mouth . . . it really turned her on._

_He asked her to take her underwear off, but she wasn’t feeling quite that daring. Maybe if she’d just been at home, but not at her grandparents’ house. “I can’t take them off,” she said, wishing she had the guts to play along with the phone sex thing a little bit more. “I’m with my family.”_

_Behind her, someone cleared their throat, alerting her to the fact that she wasn’t wandering around that hallway alone. She suspected it was her mom, but whoever it was—mom, dad, Aunt Cindy Leigh—it was embarrassing to get caught in the middle of such a racy conversation. “I’m gonna have to call you back,” she said, abruptly ending the call. She turned around, coming eye to eye with her mom, and lied, “That was Raven. She just wanted to wish me a merry Christmas.”_

_Her mother crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”_

_It was a flimsy cover-up at best, so she muttered, “No,” and looked down at her feet._

_Her mom’s hand darted out and seized her phone from her._

_“Hey!” she yelped. Bellamy would probably call back later, or send her a dirty text or something. He was a lot more daring than she was, so sometimes he sent pictures._

_“You don’t need this,” her mom said, pocketing the phone. “In fact, it’ll do you some good to have a few days away from that boy.”_

_“That boy?” Clarke echoed, hating that her mom always found new derisive ways to refer to her boyfriend. “Weren’t there any guys in your past?” she asked challengingly. “Guys Grandma and Grandpa didn’t approve of?”_

_“No,” her mother claimed. “They always liked all my boyfriends.”_

“All _of them?” Clarke tilted her head to the side suspiciously. “How many were there?”_

_“Not many.”_

_“Uh-huh.” She_ really _wasn’t believing that. She’d seen pictures of her mom back in high school, stunningly beautiful pictures. As perfect and innocent as she tried to make herself out to be, there was no way she hadn’t had some boy drama. “You know, I’ve had a whole whopping two boyfriends in my life,” Clarke pointed out, “both of whom are actually really nice guys.”_

_“You’re right,” her mom said, and Clarke thought they might have made some progress until she added, “Wells was a very nice guy.”_

_Wells was boring, though. There was no spark there. “What do you have against Bellamy?” she asked. Yes, there was the sexual activity, but other than that, most parents would adore a guy who treated their daughter the way Bellamy did._

_“I just don’t think he’s the one for you,” her mom said._

_“I never said he was.” Why did her parents think she was letting herself fall head over heels for Bellamy? She liked the guy . . . a lot. A_ lot _a lot. But she didn’t have delusions of a wedding and a family with him. She knew he was going to be moving on to a lot bigger and better places in half a year’s time, and when that time came . . . she had to be prepared to let him go._

****

As her eyelids fluttered shut, Clarke managed a quiet, “Hey, Bellamy?”

“Hmm?”

Even without his arms around her, it felt so good to be near him, to lie next to him. To be close. “I’m really glad I chose you,” she said, not sure what would have happened if she’d chosen someone else for her first time. She liked to think they still would have found each other, though. Somehow.

Bellamy didn’t say anything in response to that; he just reached over and stroked her hair. There was so much love in that simple touch, that wordless gesture. Sometimes she didn’t even feel like she deserved it.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going back to work now, so updates might sometimes be out a little later in the day than they usually are. But I still plan on maintaining a schedule where I post a new chapter every 3 days. :)

_Chapter 32_

Although her back felt a little stiff, Clarke managed to wake up on Christmas morning feeling . . . not too shabby. Sleeping back in Bellamy’s old bedroom with him brought back memories, so even though that bed of his wasn’t technically meant for two (and they’d had to fit three counting the baby), it’d been kind of nice.

“Merry Christmas,” Aurora said to them when they came out of the bedroom that morning. Octavia was already awake, too, inspecting the presents under the tree, probably scoping out her own.

“Merry Christmas,” Clarke returned, yawning a bit.

“Did you guys sleep well?” Aurora asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, “not too bad.”

Behind her, Bellamy grunted, and when he started talking, it was clear that he hadn’t found the night as nice as Clarke had. “It was awful,” he bemoaned. “One minute she’s too hot, then the next she’s too cold. She’s been on one side, and then she turns over on the other side. Or if she’s on her back, then her arm just flings out and whacks me in the head. And when she finally does get comfortable, then she’s gotta get up and go to the bathroom. Comes back to bed, starts the whole damn thing all over again.” He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed, and groaned, “It’s just constant movement all night long, like sleepin’ next to a fish.”

Clarke shot him a warning look. A fish? A _fish_?

Bellamy interpreted her look quickly and forced a smile tacking on, “And it’s fun,” so as to avoid her pregnant wrath.

“Aww, listen to him, lying so he doesn’t upset you,” Octavia remarked. “He’s gonna make a great husband.”

Truthfully, Clarke did feel bad, because she knew she wasn’t the easiest person to sleep next to these days. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t mean to be such a pain. It’s just . . . it’s so hard to get comfy.”

“Well, here, this might help,” Aurora said, moving a big box around from the back of the tree to the front of it. “Open it up.”

The box looked too heavy to lift, so Clarke took a seat on the couch and waited for Bellamy to bring it over to her. “Aurora, you didn’t need to get me anything,” she said.

“Oh, just stop that,” Aurora said, taking a seat in her recliner. “I hope you like it.”

Clarke began to open her very large gift as Bellamy plopped down next to her, looking like he could just fall back asleep at any minute. When she opened the box flaps and felt what was inside, it was . . . soft. Like a pillow. And when she pulled the pillow out, it wasn’t just any ordinary pillow. It sort of unfolded and expanded and became this full-body pillow. “Oh my god, it’s a pregnancy pillow!” she exclaimed.

“Thank God,” Bellamy mumbled.

“I’ve been wanting one of these.” Clarke had to stand up to lift the whole thing out of the box. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was quite long, and it curved around sort of in the shape of a C or a G. She’d seen pictures online, and all the women sleeping on it just looked so damn relaxed.

“You curl up with that and you’ll feel a lot comfier,” Aurora assured her, “trust me.”

“Thank you so much.” If she’d had more room on that couch, she would have curled up right then, but she’d settle for just sort of cuddling with it, feeling the soft pillow against her tummy and looking forward to some more restful nights from here on out.

“Yes, thank you,” Bellamy told his mom emphatically.

She smiled at him and said, “Now maybe you’ll both sleep easier.”

There weren’t a ton of presents under the tree, so opening them didn’t take too long. But Aurora did insist that they go one at a time, so that she could see what everyone ended up with. Her favorite gift seemed to be a heartfelt one from her children. They’d both gotten her one of those little mom books, where they’d jotted down memories and inside jokes and things they loved and admired about her. It brought tears to her eyes, to the point where she said she’d have to look at the book in private, otherwise she’d become a blubbering mess.

_I hope my daughter loves me that much_ , Clarke thought. Aurora had done so well as a single mom, with no help from anyone. It was pretty damn inspirational.

Clarke loved her other gifts, too. Octavia got her a couple of nice and actually fashionable maternity shirts, which she knew she’d be needing more of soon, and Aurora also gave her some lotions and shower gels from Bath and Body Works. Bellamy got her a soft white bathrobe, which she’d expected because he’d made several remarks lately about how her old one was kind of gross, and he also got her a gorgeous snow globe that had the word _Love_ on the inside. In addition to that, he got her this beautiful bracelet that had both of their initials engraved on the inside. She put it on right away and didn’t intend to take it off all day.

Being the only guy, Bellamy’s gifts were a little different. Clarke gave him the poker set she thought he’d love, only to find out that he didn’t actually know how to play poker and had only been talking about it with some of the guys because he wanted to learn. But it wasn’t a total bust of a gift. Now he had chips to learn with. Besides that, she also got him a beard-grooming kit, one that Raven had helped her pick out, and he loved it. He said something about being a part of beard culture, and Clarke kind of just had to laugh, because she always found it funny how proud Bellamy was of his facial hair. It did make him look very rugged and sexy. 

Clarke was on pins and needles when it came time for Octavia to open the gift she’d gotten her, because if there was one person in that family who would be openly critical, it would probably be the youngest Blake. But when she unwrapped her blanket—which was very soft and colorful and had a picture of one of the Greek goddesses on it—she beamed with joy. “Clarke, this is beautiful. I love it,” she raved, tossing it around her shoulders. “And you know what? It’ll look perfect draped over the back of Lincoln’s couch.”

“You still think you’re moving in there, huh?” Bellamy said.

“I am,” she claimed. “Mom okayed it last night.”

“What?” he spat. “Mom!”

“She’s eighteen, Bellamy,” Aurora reminded him.

“Ha.” Octavia stuck her tongue out at her brother, like a child.

“I can’t take this,” Bellamy decided. “I need another gift to distract me.”

“Here.” Octavia handed him a small and not so elegantly wrapped box. “This one’s from me. Don’t worry, I got you more than one thing.”

Unlike his mom, who liked to take her time unwrapping and save the paper for next year’s gifts, Bellamy tore right into his. He ended up chuckling as he took a coffee mug out of the box. It was plain white, but it said _Look at you becoming a dad and shit_ on it. “Where’d you get this?” he asked.

“Online,” Octavia answered. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks, O.”

Clarke smiled at Octavia. It was a good gift. Bellamy didn’t really drink coffee, but he’d use that mug. “I got you something Dad-related, too,” she said, handing him a gift bag. “This one’s slightly inappropriate, but nothing too bad.”

Bellamy dug right into the sack and pulled out a simple grey t-shirt that had four simple black letters printed on the front. Again, he laughed, and he held it up and read what it said. “DILF.”

“What’s a DILF?” his mother asked.

“Dad I’d like to . . . you know,” Clarke said, a bit embarrassed now that she’d let Bellamy open this one in front of his family. “You do know, don’t you?”

“Oh, I get it now,” Aurora said.

Grinning, Bellamy put the t-shirt on over his current one and said to Clarke, “I should’ve gotten you a MILF shirt. Because that’s what you are.”

“Ew, can we not?” Octavia said, cringing. “I ate Christmas cookies last night, and I really don’t wanna throw them up.”

Clarke blushed, making a mental note to tell Bellamy later that she wouldn’t mind a MILF shirt if he did indeed decide to get her one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Christmas morning was done. Simple. No stress. And as much as Bellamy would have loved to stay at his mom’s all day, maybe even hunker down for a little holiday nap that afternoon, he couldn’t. They were obligated to go over to Clarke’s mom’s house and spend half of the day there, too. It was only fair, he supposed, but still . . . he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. And neither was his sister, judging by the way she questioned, “You think this part of Christmas will be as relaxing as our morning was?” while they unloaded presents from the car.

“Not a chance,” Bellamy said with certainty. Abby would probably say something or do something, just like she always did, to make him feel tense. Or judged. Or both. But he could put up with it just so Clarke could spend Christmas Day with her mom, too.

Glancing at his girlfriend, he noticed her struggling to haul her huge pregnancy pillow up to the front door. His mom was trying to help her, but they looked like they were carrying one of those Chinese New Year’s dragons on their shoulders. “Clarke,” he said. “I don’t think that thing’s . . . portable.”

“I wanna show my mom,” she said stubbornly.

Shaking his head, he said, “What my Princess wants, my Princess gets,” and handed a couple more presents to Octavia to carry. He intercepted Clarke and his mom and took the whole pillow from them. “Here, I got it.” The thing was massive, and it blocked his whole face as he carried it in addition to a few gift bags. He couldn’t really see where he was stepping, so he just followed them up to the front door.

They rang the doorbell and waited. _Here we go_ , Bellamy thought when the door opened.

“There you all are! Finally!” Abby exclaimed. As if they were running late or something, which they weren’t. “Merry Christmas.”

“Hi, Mom,” Clarke said, hugging her.

“Hello, Abby,” Aurora said, doing the same.

Bellamy, with his arms full, wasn’t in much of a position to hug anyone, and he wouldn’t have hugged Abby even if he had been. “Hi, Mrs. Griffin,” he said from behind the pillow. He couldn’t even really see her all that well.

Having learned a few things over the past few months, Bellamy had developed a plan of attack for Christmas with Abby Griffin, one he intended to stick to. His plan was to just hang back and not say much to her, because the less he said, the less of a chance he had of upsetting her. Hopefully Clarke would be able to keep her sufficiently entertained. Plus, Kane’s mom was there, so maybe Abby would be on her best behavior for her own future mother-in-law.

Clarke didn’t even know she was on Abby-entertainment duty, but she was doing a hell of a job of it as she set out her pregnancy pillow on the floor and demonstrated how she could curl up on it. “Look, see, so I can just lay on it just like this,” she said. “Isn’t that great?”

“It is,” Abby agreed. “I never had a pillow like that back when I was pregnant.”

“Me, neither,” Bellamy’s mom agreed.

While Clarke raved about her pillow, which was her obvious favorite gift so far, Bellamy pretended to be all interested in looking at the decorations on the tree with his sister. The oldest ornaments seemed to be from when Clarke was a baby herself. _Baby’s first Christmas_ , that sort of thing. There were a lot of newer ornaments, though, too, ones that didn’t hold any sentimental value and were just hanging up there to look good.

“So what do you think about this silver tree?” Octavia asked him quietly.

“No comment,” he replied. It looked like tin foil.

“Like she’s too good for a regular green one.” Octavia snorted and rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Better than those red trees they put in the White House.”

“What now?”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear about that?”

Octavia shrugged.

“Do you ever watch the news?”

“I try not to,” she said. Seemingly bored with the tree, she started looking around the rest of the expansive house. Bellamy wondered if she was thinking the same thing he’d thought when he’d first seen this place years ago: It was huge. Ridiculously huge. Their whole house could practically be swallowed up by this living room and kitchen alone.

“Hmm,” Octavia said. “I’ve never actually been inside this house before.”

“You should see her dad’s place,” Bellamy told her.

“Bigger than this?”

“He has an indoor swimming pool.”

“No way.”

“And a movie theater,” he added.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” Hell, Jake’s job was one of those fancy engineering ones, though. He’d gone to college for practically a million years to get where he was today. Bellamy couldn’t really hold it against him, or even against Abby, for that matter. They’d put in the work to own the homes they did. It just kind of sucked that someone like his mom, who was the most hardworking person he knew, wouldn’t ever be able to afford a place even half as nice as this.

“You must be talking about my ex-husband’s house,” Abby said as she sidled up to them suddenly.

_Oh, shit_ , Bellamy thought. The plan had fallen through. Clarke hadn’t been able to keep her mom distracted.

“It is a little over-the-top,” Abby agreed. “He barely even ever swam in our swimming pool when he lived here. I don’t know what he needs an indoor one for.”

_Just don’t say anything_ , Bellamy told himself. Abby could drag her ex-husband all she wanted to. He just wouldn’t respond, because . . . well, because he liked Jake better than her. Even if Jake wasn’t his number one fan, either.

“What do you think of the tree?” Abby asked them.

“It’s . . .” Octavia must have had a hell of a time biting her tongue, because she wasn’t the type of person to do that. But she forced out a, “Lovely,” which Bellamy was grateful for.

“Thank you,” Abby said. “I think so, too. I would imagine Jake went the traditional route.”

“Yep,” Bellamy said. And hell, as far as Christmas trees were concerned, traditional was better. “His tree looked nice, too.”

“Hmm.” Abby folded her arms across her chest and said, “You know, he called me the other day, told me some interesting news.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bellamy sensed where this was leading.

“Yeah. And I believe you already know about it.”

He definitely did.

Octavia must have sensed that it was time to get the hell out of range, because she said, “Hey, Clarke, show me your pillow again. That thing’s awesome,” and scampered away from the tree.

Left alone with the woman, Bellamy felt like he had no choice but to carry on the conversation. “So he told you,” he said.

“Yes.”

He nodded, not sure what else she expected him to say about it. “She’s not as far along as Clarke is,” he informed her.

“But she is pregnant.” Abby sighed dramatically. “Nice of you and Clarke to tell me, by the way. Maybe you could’ve given me a little forewarning before he sprang the news.”

“Clarke didn’t wanna be the one to tell you,” he tried to explain.

“I would’ve rather heard about it from her.”

“Well . . .” He couldn’t exactly act all apologetic, because he thought it was Jake’s responsibility to tell her. “Now you know.”

“Yeah, now I know.” Abby lowered her head, looked down at the floor, and mumbled, “The man I once stood up at the alter with and exchanged vows with is having a child with someone else.”

For a split second, unbelievably, Bellamy actually did feel bad for the woman. Because even though she’d been divorced for years, that couldn’t be easy. He remembered what it’d felt like to hear that Clarke was pregnant with someone else’s kid. At first, even though he’d congratulated her on it, he’d felt pretty bad for himself. Maybe Abby was feeling the same.

“Clarke’s gonna be a big sister,” she went on. “Or . . . half-sister, I guess.”

“Octavia’s my half-sister,” he reminded her, pretty sure she already knew that since Arkadia was such a small town and everyone ended up knowing everything about everyone else. “It doesn’t really matter. I love her just as much as I would if we had the same dad.”

“And I’m sure Clarke will love her brother or sister, too,” Abby said. “I’ll just have to . . . adjust.”

Yeah, she would. So hopefully she’d be willing to. “Jake’s happy with Alyssa,” he told her, even though he wasn’t sure whether or not he should say it. He just felt like defending Clarke’s father a bit, because he wasn’t a bad guy. And again, he liked him better. “Just like you’re happy with Kane,” he added, drawing a parallel, and then, even though it went against his plan, he tacked on, “Just like Clarke’s happy with me,” before heading over to scoop his girlfriend up off her pregnancy pillow before she got too comfy and fell right asleep. Maybe it wasn’t what Abby wanted to hear, but it was the truth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke had only met Kane’s mother once, and it’d been two Christmases ago, back during the first year that he and her mom had begun dating. Last year, Vera Kane had been in the hospital after slipping and falling on the sidewalk right outside her own house. This year, she was well enough to join them, but as far as Clarke knew, her health still wasn’t great. She was napping when they showed up, but around 3:00, Kane told Clarke she could go check on her, see if she was awake and ready to join them. So Clarke went to the downstairs guest room—they hadn’t put her in the nicer, bigger upstairs one because the stairs were too hard for her—and knocked on the door quietly. “Vera?” she called. Slowly opening the door, she peered inside and found the short woman sitting on the side of the bed, combing her hair. She looked bigger than Clarke remembered, but then again, Clarke knew she was bigger, too.

“Hi, Vera,” she said.

“Oh, hi, Clarke.” Vera set her brush down and tried to stand up, but she wasn’t quite able to do it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” Clarke said, nearing her bedside.

“Of course I remember you,” Vera said. “I’m not that senile.”

“No, I just mean . . . it’s been a while,” Clarke said. “And I was also a lot less . . . round back then.”

“You look beautiful,” Vera told her. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure whether her actual grandparents on either side of the family knew about her pregnancy yet, but they probably wouldn’t be too happy about it. Both sets of her grandparents were pretty traditional and conservative. They hadn’t been pleased to find out she was bisexual, and they wouldn’t be pleased about this, either. But at least Kane’s mom was happy about it. She was such a nice woman, a former minister and everything. But she wasn’t one of those overly-judgmental zealots who looked down on people. She was . . . accepting.

“Do you need any help with anything?” Clarke offered her.

“Actually, I could use a little help getting up,” Vera said.

“Sure.” Clarke grabbed hold of the woman’s arm and helped pull her to her feet. Poor Vera had to hold onto her for support, with crooked fingers. “Thanks,” she said. “Arthritis makes things hard.”

Clarke gladly helped Vera out of the bedroom and down the hall so she could join the festivities out in the living room. Not that it was a big party or anything. Everyone was kind of just doing what they needed to do. Kane was in the kitchen cooking, her mom was setting the table and arguing with the Alexa about which Christmas song was playing, and Bellamy, Octavia, and his mom were sitting in the living room together, talking and laughing.

“I just get tired so easily these days,” Vera said, sounding winded already. “I have to rest a lot.”

“I can relate,” Clarke said. Although she at least had the luxury of knowing that her ailments wouldn’t bother her so much after a few more months. Vera’s condition was permanent.

“Now tell me about your boyfriend,” the older woman said, pointing to Bellamy. “My son’s mentioned him a few times.”

Clarke felt assured that Kane would at least mention Bellamy in a positive light, so that meant she could brag him up. “That’s Bellamy,” she said. “He’s . . . pretty amazing, actually. He’s really been there for me through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Well, Marcus says the two of you are very much in love.”

She smiled. “We are.”

“High school sweethearts?” Vera asked.

Laughing lightly, she said, “Something like that.” More like a high school one-time hook-up that had turned into something way more.

“He’s cute,” Vera said, giving her side a little nudge.

_Sure is_ , Clarke thought proudly.

“You know, Clarke,” Vera said, her tone more serious now, “my son . . . he may not even be married to your mother yet, but he thinks of you like a daughter already. He loves you very much.”

Again, Clarke smiled. Because that was a good feeling. When her mom and Kane had started dating, she’d vowed to keep an open mind, to be willing to accept him into her life, and she was glad she had. Because he’d turned out to be a pretty good guy. And a good father figure.

“I’m sure your boyfriend . . . he’ll love this baby, too, just like any father would,” Vera went on. “And that’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different.”

_Are we talking about my mom?_ she wondered. If Vera knew about Bellamy, chances were she also knew that her future daughter-in-law wasn’t a Bellamy fan.

“There’s so much more to family than just biology,” Vera said, and just hearing that . . . it made Clarke feel really good. Because there were going to be a lot of doubters that she and Bellamy had to prove wrong. It was nice to know that not everyone out there was so skeptical.

She urged Vera to say the same thing to Bellamy once she got the chance to talk to him a little bit, because she felt like it’d be something that he’d like to hear, too. And while they got to know each other, she slipped over to the kitchen to stand next to the man who would someday soon become her stepdad. He was focused on seasoning the ham that would be the main dish of the meal, but he indicated that he was still paying attention to what was going on when he said, “Bellamy seems to be hitting it off with my mother.”

“Yeah.” Clarke looked over her shoulder just as the woman opened up her arms and gave Bellamy a big hug. “She’s so nice.” It kind of made her envious, because she wondered when she’d ever see her mom hug Bellamy as kindly as that. Or . . . at all. Hopefully in time.

Not quite sure how to say what she wanted to say to Kane, Clarke opened her mouth and let the words just tumble out. “Hey, I don’t know if it’s my hormones or just the general holiday sappiness that’s making me say this, but . . . I just wanted to thank you,” she told him. “For being such a good dad these past two years.”

Kane stopped what he was doing, and Clarke noted the way his eyes started to shimmer. It’d brought _tears_ to his eyes. Just hearing her say that made him want to _cry_. She hadn’t ever really given it a whole lot of thought before, but he’d done a lot to step in for her dad once he’d moved to Baltimore. It was Kane who had been the one to help her out with that flat tire her sophomore year of college, and Kane who had helped her move furniture into an apartment with her friends, and Kane who had been the one to tell Finn to treat her right. He’d done all of that and more.

“You make it easy,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a side hug. But as nice as it was of him to say that, it wasn’t exactly true. She hadn’t always made things easy on the people in her life. Her parents’ divorce was proof of that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although Bellamy would have been fine with something simple like burgers for Christmas dinner, everything Abby and Marcus made tasted good. He wasn’t a slow eater, so he felt like he finished before everyone else, except for Clarke, who gobbled things down as fast as he did these days. At one point, when there were no more mashed potatoes left, she looked over at his plate with this longing expression on her face, and he gave the rest of his to her.

The conversation flowed . . . pretty well. For the most part, he tried not to say anything unless he was spoken to, and that worked out well. Vera—nice woman, from what Bellamy could tell—said this really long prayer at the beginning, then continued to talk pretty much through the entire thing. She told a lot of stories about Christmas back when Kane was a kid. Apparently he’d had a dad in the picture back then, but that dad had ended up committing suicide when Kane was just six. Bellamy never would have guessed. Kane seemed like such a well-adjusted guy to have gone through something so traumatic.

The majority of Vera’s stories actually were upbeat, though, putting a smile even on Abby’s face. And when there was a slight lull in conversation, Abby seized it by talking about a Christmas when Clarke’s dad had dressed up like Santa and appeared outside the window. Apparently it’d scared the toddler version of Clarke half to death.

Bellamy’s mom didn’t chime in with any stories about their Christmases because . . . well, their Christmases had always been smaller. No fancy meal, no huge family get-together, and no truckload of gifts underneath the tree. Just the three of them and a few presents. Until this year, with Clarke. Now there was four. Next year there would be five.

After they were all done eating, everyone sort of just sat there, letting things digest, and Bellamy’s mom was the first to say, “Well, that was delicious. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you, Abby.”

“You’re welcome,” Abby said. “I’d say it hit the spot.”

“Ugh,” Clarke groaned, looking down at her stomach, “I feel like I have a food baby in here now.”

“Nope, just a regular one,” Bellamy said, reaching over to place his hand on her bump. He still hadn’t felt that little girl kick yet, and he really wanted to.

“So have you guys decided on a name?” Octavia asked, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table.

“We’re talking about it,” Clarke replied.

“Yeah, it’s a . . . it’s an ongoing discussion,” Bellamy said. “But we got some ideas.”

“Well, _one_ idea,” Clarke corrected. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Yeah, they had time. And if Avery was what they ended up going with, then fine by him. It was a unique name without being too out there. Like his was.

Clarke’s phone buzzed suddenly, and she took it out of her pocket to see who was calling. “Oh, it’s Dad,” she said, shooting her mom a look. “I should take this.”

“Go right ahead,” Abby urged, and as Clarke got up from the table, she sighed heavily, as if the mere mention of her ex-husband had brought down her mood. “Well, once we let this all settle, we can have dessert,” she decided.

Bellamy wasn’t much of a dessert guy, but he’d have some, just to be polite or whatever. And if he didn’t finish his, he was sure Clarke would finish it for him. As full as she was right now, within a half an hour or so, she’d probably be hungry again.

“Oh, here, Abby, let me help you clear the table,” his mom said when Abby stood up to gather plates.

“I’ve got it,” Abby said.

“I insist.”

Bellamy never failed to be amazed how damn nice his mom was to Clarke’s mom. They were clearly very different women, didn’t have much in common, but his mom always did stuff like this, volunteering to help clear the table. Bellamy didn’t, and Octavia didn’t, and even Kane was preoccupied with other things when he asked Vera, “Mom, you want to move over to the couch?”

“Yes,” Vera said, grabbing hold of her son’s arm as she struggled to stand. It was a slow process, but with his help, she walked in that direction.

As everyone around them dispersed, Octavia leaned across the table and asked, “Where’s Clarke’s room? I know you know.”

“It’s upstairs,” he replied.

“I wanna see it.”

It’d been years since he’d gone up there, but there had been a time when it’d been one of his favorite places to be. He kind of wanted to check it out himself, see what was the same, what was different. “Hey, Clarke?” he called.

His girlfriend was standing near her dad’s old office, already deep in conversation, but she whipped her head around when he said her name.

“Can I show Octavia your room?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” she answered, “go ahead.”

Getting up from the table, he said, “Come on,” and motioned for his sister to follow him.

_Déjà vu_ , he thought as he climbed up the stairs. He was pretty sure he _still_ felt Abby’s disapproving eyes glaring a hole into the back of his head, even though he wasn’t heading up there to make out with her teenage daughter this time.

“This must’ve been a hard bedroom to sneak into,” Octavia remarked.

“I didn’t sneak,” he said, approaching the door. “Most of the time.” Twisting the knob, he pushed the door open to reveal the room. Same queen-sized bed with the pale pink bedspread, same bay window where Clarke used to sit and draw. Every knickknack and item that he remembered being on her shelves was still there, and he was sure that if he opened up her closet, he’d find some of the clothes she used to wear in high school in there. Maybe even her cheerleading uniform.

“Wow,” Octavia said. “Kinda girly.”

“Well, she’s a girl, not a tomboy like you,” Bellamy teased.

Octavia sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down a bit as if she were testing the mattress, then asked, “Does it look the same as you remember?”

“Yeah,” he said, “pretty much the same.” He caught sight of something taped to her vanity mirror, though, something he didn’t ever recall seeing there before. It was a small yellow sticky note that read, in Clarke’s own handwriting, _Inhale the future, exhale the past_. She must have gone through an inspirational quote phase as a senior.

“No pictures of you, though,” Octavia remarked, standing up again.

“Well, we broke up,” he pointed out. Of course there weren’t going to be pictures of him still on display. Although at one point, there had been.

“But it was a friendly breakup,” Octavia said. “Hmm, so maybe she’s still got pictures of you around here somewhere.” She pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and started looking around inside.

“Don’t snoop too hard,” he cautioned. “You might find some pictures you don’t wanna see.”

“Gross.” She made a face, but her expression changed when she found something in that drawer. “Ooh, what’s this?” she said, pulling out what looked like a book or a journal. “Her diary.”

Clarke had never been one to write in a diary every day, so he was sure there were probably only sporadic entries in there, if that. “Don’t open it,” he told his sister.

“I wasn’t going to,” she said. “But does it make you wonder if she wrote anything about you in here?”

Well, yeah, of course he was curious, but that was private, and he wasn’t about to invade Clarke’s privacy just out of curiosity. “Put it away,” he said.

“Fine, you’re no fun.” Octavia opened the drawer wider, set the journal back down inside, and then said, “Well, what do we have here?” as she pulled something else out. A necklace this time, one Bellamy recognized quite well. “ _To me, you are perfect_ ,” Octavia read off of the small silver circle. “That’s so cheesy.”

“Hey, I got that for her,” he said, glad to see that she hadn’t gotten rid of it.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“You were _that_ cheesy back in high school?”

He crossed the room and said, “Give me that,” and seized it back from her. He read the words, smiled, and remembered all the times he’d seen her wear it. Back in high school, she’d worn it during the day, during cheerleading competitions, even though that hadn’t been allowed, and sometimes, she’d worn it just for him.

****

_It was useless for Bellamy to even try to do anything else while he waited for Clarke to come by. She’d texted him this morning that she’d be home around noon, but here it was 12:30, and she wasn’t there. Not even porn could distract him, so he just sat on the couch and waited for her. Patiently. Or . . . not so patiently. He had a hard-on the size of Texas._

_When he heard a car pull up outside, he sprang off the couch and raced to the window. And it was her. Without even bothering to put on a coat, he ran outside and swept her off her feet right after she got out of the car. She barely even had time to yelp in excitement before his mouth found hers, kissing her fervently. These past few days without her had been torture. Sexting could only go so far._

_“I missed you,” she murmured against his lips._

_“I missed you, too.” As nice as it was to be on Christmas break, it would have been better if Clarke hadn’t had to leave town for family Christmas. From what she’d told him, it’d been a miserable experience for her anyway._

_Together they stumbled towards the door and into the house. Bellamy slammed it shut and meandered through the living room with his girlfriend, too intent on kissing her to pay much attention to where he was going. He bumped into the arm of the couch, almost knocked over a lamp, and tripped over his own feet, but none of that mattered when he got her pressed up against the wall and snaked his hands underneath her shirt._

_“Your mom?” she asked breathily._

_“Out with O,” he replied, squeezing her breasts. “Gotta score those post-Christmas deals.”_

_“So we’re alone?” she said._

_“Yeah.” Not wanting to waste any more time, Bellamy grabbed the bottom of Clarke’s shirt and roughly lifted it up over her head. Her breasts were practically spilling out of her bra, so he unclasped it quickly and took a moment to appreciate how sexy she looked shaking it off and letting it fall to the floor. Plus, she had the necklace on, his Christmas gift to her. He wasn’t about to take that off._

_“When are they coming home?” she asked him, scrunching up the bottom of his shirt._

_“Not for a while.” He moved her hands out of the way and took off his shirt in one swift motion, then pressed his chest to hers, wrapped his arms around her, and hoisted her up. Although he could have carried her into his bedroom, having the house to themselves inspired a lot of other ideas, so he took her into the kitchen instead, pushed the fake floral centerpiece on the table aside, and laid her down on top of it._

_“Wait, Bellamy,” she said as he bent down to kiss her neck. “This is your kitchen table.”_

_“It’s okay,” he assured her, reaching down to yank off her shoes. “We eat in front of the TV.”_

_That got a laugh out of her, so he went ahead and unfastened her jeans, figuring she wouldn’t mind getting fucked right here. It wasn’t the biggest table in the world, nor was it the sturdiest, but if they broke it . . . oh, well._

_Getting Clarke undressed was easy. She’d gotten so good at sex and so used to having sex with him that he didn’t even need to tell her to lift her hips up so he could take her pants off. She just did it. And she did it again when it was time for him to remove her underwear. When she lay before him completely naked, sprawled out on his fucking_ kitchen table _of all places, he felt like he was about to cum right then and there._

I gotta fuck her, _he thought, quickly undoing his own jeans. He pushed them down to his knees, along with his boxer briefs, and moved forward, lining himself up at the edge of the table. Grabbing hold of both of her legs under the knees, he pulled her forward so that her hips were right there on the edge, her hot, tight pussy in the perfect position for him to just . . ._

_“Condom,” she reminded him just as he was about to enter her._

_“In my bedroom,” he said. Did they really have to stop just for that? She was on the pill._

_“Well, go get it,” she told him._

_As much as he wanted to just keep going, he wasn’t going to do that without Clarke’s permission. Besides, she was right to remind him. And she usually had to._

_Leaving her lying there, he pulled his pants up just enough to be able to run into his bedroom. There was a condom right there on the nightstand, so he swiped it up and ran back out to her. She hadn’t moved. Her legs were still spread, and she was still waiting for him. “You look so hot right now,” he told her, quickly tearing open the small package with his teeth. He sheathed himself as quickly as possible, making sure it was on there snugly before he positioned himself at her entrance again. With one hand around the base of his cock, he guided himself in, making it a full thrust right from the start. Oh god, he’d missed this._

_“Uh!” Clarke cried out, her whole pussy clenching around him. Despite there not being much foreplay, she was pretty slick down there. He liked to think that she’d been thinking about this all Christmas just like he had, that she’d been imagining it all afternoon on the car ride home with her parents._

_Sometimes with Clarke, he liked to go slower than he did with other girls. But this was not one of those times. The combination of being on the kitchen table with her and seeing her wearing nothing but that necklace . . . it was too much, and he had to go hard and fast. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the sounds of pleasure she made while he fucked her just drove him wild. “Oh . . .” she moaned, a lot louder than she typically was when she was over here and they were trying to avoid being heard by Octavia. “Oh, god. I wanna cum.”_

_“Fuck.” He had to squeeze his eyes shut, because watching her tits bounce and being able to see himself sliding in and out of her so well . . . it’d be over way too soon if he kept looking at those things._

_He wasn’t about to fuck her and not get her off. No way. Bringing his hand into the action, he rubbed at her clit, knowing that was a surefire way to get her closer to orgasm. Clarke loved being stimulated down there, either internally or externally. She loved it when he played with her clit, loved it when he fingered her or ate her out, loved it when he angled his thrusts_ just _right to be able to hit her G-spot._

_“Bellamy,” she gasped as the whole table rocked beneath her. “I’m gonna fall.”_

_No, she wasn’t. “I got you,” he promised, his hips still moving as he tried to wrap his arms underneath her and pick her up. That didn’t work very well, so he had to halt his thrusts for just a few seconds and lift her up._

_“Bellamy!” She sounded worried for a moment, and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her arms around his neck. “Don’t drop me,” she whimpered._

_“I won’t.” This wasn’t the easiest way to fuck her, and even though she was lightweight, it’d kill his arms and legs. So he pressed her back against the wall, and that made everything easier. She held onto him, and he held her up there, and he just picked up right where he left off, pounding into her and making her moan._

_He wasn’t sure how long he stood there fucking her up against that wall. But he was sure that, when she came and screamed out his name, the neighbors down the street could probably hear it._

****

When Bellamy headed back downstairs, he heard Clarke ending the phone call with her father. She wasn’t rolling her eyes, and she sounded pleasant enough when she said goodbye to him, so it must not have been a bad conversation.

“How’s your dad?” he asked her, keeping his right hand in a fist to hide what he was holding.

“He’s good,” she said, putting her phone back in her pocket. “He says hi.”

“Does he?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Might just make a fan out of him yet,” he joked, although truthfully . . . it kind of sucked that her dad didn’t like him as much as he’d initially thought. He supposed it didn’t really matter, though. All that mattered was what he and Clarke felt for each other. “I brought you something,” he told her, excited to see how she’d react to what he’d brought down from her room.

“What?” she said eagerly.

Holding up his hand, he unclenched his fist, and out came the necklace. Her eyes widened as he held it up in front of her, like maybe she hadn’t seen it or thought about it for a long time.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked him.

“In your room,” he answered. “When was the last time you wore it?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Years ago.”

He wondered if she’d worn it after he’d gone away to college. Probably not. But she’d kept it, so now she could wear it again. “Well, we gotta change that.” He stepped around behind her and put it on, momentarily flashing back to six years ago. Her hair was shorter now, but she was still the same Clarke Griffin.

“I’m still not perfect, though,” she told him.

Hooking the necklace together, he said, “Well, to me, you still are.” It didn’t matter how much she kept him up in the middle of the night, or how much food she ended up taking off of his plate. Every version of her—high school, college, pregnant, not pregnant—was the love of his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

No one ended up having room for dessert, so Clarke downplayed her incessant hunger just so she didn’t stick out. Bellamy must have known she wanted dessert, though, because he asked Kane if they could take a plate of fudge home, and he walked out with that in hand.

Vera hugged them both as they left, and Kane shook Bellamy’s hand. But it was so obvious to Clarke that her mom didn’t really know what to do, because she just waved to him and thanked him for coming. All in all, though, despite the awkward goodbye between the two of them, it’d been a pretty good Christmas. Clarke couldn’t complain.

They dropped Aurora and Octavia off back at the house, then continued on home themselves. Clarke found herself getting sleepy on the short drive since it was already dark out. When they arrived home, she felt ready to get in her brand new robe and curl up on her brand new pillow and go to bed.

“I’m so tired,” she said as she followed Bellamy up the front steps.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” he said as he unlocked and pushed open the front door. “There’s one more thing.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant until she walked inside and saw two suitcases sitting in the middle of their living room. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Your last present.”

She made a face, confused. “What?” He’d gotten her . . . luggage?

“We’re gonna go somewhere for a couple days,” he told her. “Out of town.”

“We are?”

“Yeah. We gotta do something like this before the baby’s born.”

Well, the apps he was looking at must have said the same thing as the apps she was checking every day, because yeah, they had mentioned that it might be a good idea to take a pre-baby vacation. But this seemed pretty spontaneous, even for Bellamy. “But what about work?” she questioned.

“I took the time off,” he told her. “I talked to your boss, and she agreed to give you time off, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He’d thought this through then. She was definitely impressed by that.

“I already packed everything,” he said, motioning to the suitcases.

“ _Everything_?” she asked emphatically. “My vitamins, my stretchy pants . . .”

“Everything,” he reassured her.

She wasn’t sure when he’d done that. Although he _had_ mysteriously gone to the ‘grocery store’ on Christmas Eve and left her hanging out with just his mom and sister for about half an hour. So that’d probably been a fib. He’d probably come here to pack things up, set the suitcases out, and have his surprise ready to go for when they returned home.

“Where are we going?” she inquired curiously.

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “You wanna go tonight?”

Even though she had been tired a moment ago, now she just felt energized. “Can we?”

“Yeah. You sleep, I’ll drive.”

“Okay.” That worked for her.

“Okay, let’s go.” He grabbed both suitcases and hauled them out the door, one in each hand, not bothering to roll them even though they were the roll-able kind.

“Did you plan out stuff for us to do when we get there?” she asked him, interested to know just how much thought and planning had gone into this last gift of his.

“Yeah,” he answered proudly. “Well, some of it’s gonna be sex, but some of it’s other stuff, too.”

Sex and other forms of fun? She couldn’t wait. Smiling, she walked back to the car with him and said, “Sounds like the perfect getaway to me.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck. I already forgot to update yesterday, even though I was supposed to. My apologies. Headed back to work/teaching this week, and I was exhausted last night, but it's the weekend now, so yay!

_Chapter 33_

Although it was nighttime and he was tired, Bellamy wasn’t intimidated by the prospect of spending hours driving. And according to Google Maps, it _would_ take hours to get where they were going. Probably about seven. More if he ran into construction or shit like that.

Clarke tilted the passenger’s seat back as far as it would go, curled up with her full-body pillow as well as she could, and went to sleep pretty early in the drive; so Bellamy turned the radio on low and used that to keep himself awake since he couldn’t engage in any conversation with her. After only an hour on the road, she woke up and said she had to go to the bathroom. So he pulled off at the next gas station and filled up the gas tank while she did her typical nightly business in an atypical location. When she came back out, she made sure he knew in explicit detail just how disgusting that bathroom had been, and then she fell back asleep almost as soon as they got back on the road.

Only three hours into the drive, Bellamy really started feeling the effects of the exhaustion. And it got worse when he ended up in a bit of a traffic jam. He’d expected hardly anyone to be out traveling on Christmas night, but there were cars lined up as far as his eye could see. Apparently there had been an accident, and that had both sides of the interstate at a stand-still. At one point, he’d gone so long without even inching forward a bit that he ended up falling asleep right there in the driver’s seat. Another passenger had to get out and come knock on his window to jolt him awake again.

_Time for an energy drink_ , he decided as he slowly drove forward, making slow progress until he was past the wreckage. Once he was zooming again, he zoomed straight to the next gas station. Clarke woke up when they got there, trudged inside to the bathroom, and Bellamy went in and got a couple of Red Bulls so he could finish his drive.

Seven hours ended up being a joke once he finally got them to their destination. It’d been nine, easily. But some of that had been because of the gas station stops, and the traffic, and . . . oh, well, it didn’t really matter, because even though it’d taken longer than expected and the sun was actually up already, they were there now, and that was all that mattered.

“Mmm, Bellamy, stop,” Clarke moaned sleepily as he pulled into a parking spot outside their hotel. “We have to stop. I have to go pee again.”

“Actually, that’s perfect timing,” he told her, “because we’re here.”

“Really?” She opened her eyes, squinted against the daylight coming in through the window, and looked around the parking lot and at the large Best Western building in front of them. “Where is here, exactly?” she asked him.

“Wilmington, North Carolina,” he replied.

“Oh my god.” She sat up straighter, suddenly alert. “That’s where they filmed _One Tree Hill_. Am I meeting the _One Tree Hill_ cast?”

He laughed at her sudden enthusiasm for the place. “No. But we can go to some of the places where they filmed stuff, like the school and the bridge and . . .” He realized he was giving away _way_ too much about his own television viewing habits, so he mumbled, “Wherever else they filmed. I don’t know, I’ve never watched that show.”

She quirked a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Then how do you know about the bridge?”

“Every show has a bridge.” He got out of the car and hustled around to her side to help her out as well.

“So not that I’m complaining,” she said, “but what made you decide to take me here?”

“Well, my mom and I stopped here on the way down to one of my college visits,” he explained. “Might’ve been the UCF one. I thought it was cool, always wanted to come back.”

She looked around some more and remarked, “Seems nice.”

“You’ve barely even seen any of it yet,” he pointed out.

“But I’m sure I’m going to.”

Putting his hand on the small of her back, he led her towards the entrance of the hotel so they could check themselves into their room. “Yes, you are.” He’d done his research on this place, so he had a lot of things planned for them to do. Plus all the sex.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Apparently the Wilmington Riverwalk was a must do. Clarke had never actually been one for hiking, but it wasn’t like they were going up in the mountains or anything. All they literally had to do was walk along the river. One of the front desk attendants at the hotel said that it was 1.75 miles long. Bellamy asked her if she could handle that, and she reminded him that pregnant women needed exercise, too.

Walking alongside the river hand-in-hand with her boyfriend made Clarke feel all mushy and romantic. The scenery was beautiful, and even though they had to wear coats and hats, it wasn’t so chilly that the weather was uncomfortable. It was just a nice, leisurely stroll. It made her feel carefree. Until she saw the iconic “Naley bench” from _One Tree Hill_ , which she most _certainly_ cared about. She made Bellamy sit down on that bench with her, and they had someone take a picture on her phone. Of course, Bellamy acted like he didn’t know what scene he was talking about, or who the characters even were, but it was so obvious at this point that he’d at least seen the whole first season.

Along the Riverwalk were so many local boutiques, souvenir shops, and other places they were able to stop in and visit. They didn’t really buy anything, but it was fun to look around. Clarke was particularly interested in the candy store. There were free samples of some things there, and she enjoyed taste-testing them.

Towards the end of the walk, her stomach started to growl to signal her hunger, and they sat down at a café to grab lunch. While they waited for their food, Clarke went through two full glasses of water. The Riverwalk had been more exercise than she was used to these days.

“Here you go,” the waitress said as she poured Clarke yet another glass.

“Just what you need,” Bellamy said sarcastically. “Now you can get up and pee every _half_ hour tonight.”

“I’m thirsty, okay?” she said.

Smirking, Bellamy said, “Oh, I know.” And he definitely meant _thirsty_ in a horny way.

The waitress laughed at their banter, then said to Clarke, “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” At this point, she’d just accepted the fact that her pregnancy was . . . obvious. She just kept getting bigger.

“Are you guys from around here,” the waitress asked, “or just having a romantic getaway?”

“A getaway,” Clarke replied. “This guy here surprised me.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Bellamy said.

“That’s sweet,” the waitress said, “and a good idea to take a vacation before the baby’s born. Because once it is . . . well, I had a baby last year, and let’s just say, my husband and I can barely find any time to ourselves anymore.”

Clarke looked across the table at Bellamy, dreading the thought of not having enough . . . private time with him. Sex with him was the only thing keeping her sane during this pregnancy, and it would probably be something to keep her sane after it, too. But if there wasn’t enough time for it, then that would be awful. Just awful.

When their food showed up, Clarke ate fast, partially because she always ate fast these days, and partially because she wanted to head back to the hotel room with Bellamy to . . . utilize their time productively. He must have still been exhausted, the poor guy, functioning on such little sleep these past few days, but he still climbed into bed with her and made her feel _amazing_. Numerous times. And in numerous positions, too, because they were getting to the point where they were having to get more creative.

Lying on her side, facing her lover after _another_ incredible orgasm, Clarke thought back to the troubling thing that waitress had said. She desperately didn’t want her sex life with Bellamy to take a major hit like that, so she said, “We’re always gonna make time for this, right?”

“Of course,” he said, rubbing his hands all over her body—her arms, her sides, her ass. He liked to keep touching her, even when they were just basking in the afterglow like this.

“But that waitress was right,” she reluctantly admitted. “It’s not gonna be easy. We’re gonna be so busy and exhausted.”

“Well, we’ll just have to cut back on the foreplay.”

“But I love the foreplay,” she protested.

“I know, but sometimes you gotta just get to the point.”

“I guess.” She’d never exactly said no to a quickie with Bellamy, either. But days like this where they could just spend hours together in bed . . . they were so nice, and she didn’t want to give them up completely. “Just promise me we’ll still do this,” she said.

“Oh, I promise.” Smoothing his hands up and down her back, he said, “Don’t worry, I could never stop having sex with you.”

“Except for when you did. For five years,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was miserable.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You had sex with plenty of other women.”

“But it didn’t even compare,” he said. “Didn’t even compare to being with you.”

Damn, he was good. He always knew how to take something she’d said and turn it around as a compliment to her. And it totally turned her on. She had a major praise kink, so anytime Bellamy said anything to flatter her performance in the sack, it sent tingles through her body. “God, Bellamy, you’re such a smooth talker,” she said, clamoring to get on top of him so they could do it again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy had to play it cool on the day he and Clarke decided to go visit the bridge from the opening credits of that damn TV show. But it was kind of hard to. Being right there in that spot where that kid bounced the basketball across the bridge . . . it was kind of awesome.

“Okay, imagine how amazing it would be living in this town back when they were actually filming _One Tree Hill_ , though,” Clarke said as she walked along the bridge. “And just seeing the cast out and about. Like, ‘Oh, hey, James Lafferty.’ He was my favorite.”

“Why are you so into this show?” Bellamy said, continuing to downplay his own interest. “Basketball’s stupid.”

“How do you know it’s a basketball show, huh?”

“Because I’ve . . .” _Damn_. Caught again. “. . . never seen it,” he lied.

“Just admit it: You’ve watched it and you like it.”

At this point, it was pretty fucking obvious, so he decided to own up just a little bit. “I only watched it ‘cause the girls are hot,” he said. “But it’d be better if it was about football.”

“It was about relationships,” she said, ambling towards him. “That’s what all the best stories are about. Sports are just the backdrop.”

Yeah, she was probably right. Hearing her say that made him think about his own high school experience as a student athlete—well, more like _athlete student_ in his case. “What if somebody made a teen soap opera about our relationship?” he said.

“Oh god. Episode 1: Clarke Loses Her V-Card.”

“People would watch that. We might be onto something here.”

“TV shows need lots of drama, though,” she pointed out.

He gave her a look. “Oh, Clarke, we had some drama.”

****

_Getting Clarke out of his truck wasn’t easy. Getting her into the house wasn’t any easier. Getting her to stay quiet? Impossible._

_“Hey, this is my house!” she exclaimed as she stumbled forward with his assistance._

_“Shh,” he whispered. “We don’t wanna wake up your mom.”_

_“Too late for that.” A lamp in the living room flicked on, and there was Abby, sitting in Jake’s chair. But Jake was away for work. Which sucked, to be honest, because confronting him right now would have been less intimidating than confronting his wife._

_“Hi, Mrs. Griffin,” Bellamy said, practically holding Clarke up._

_Glaring at him, she noted, “It’s 1:30. You said you’d have her home two hours ago.”_

_“I know. I’m sorry,” he apologized. “We lost track of time.”_

_Slowly, Abby rose from the chair, surveying her daughter. “Is she drunk?” It was a question that didn’t even need to be asked._

_“No,” Bellamy lied feebly._

_“I’m not drunk, Mom,” Clarke said, pulling her arm away from Bellamy’s grasp. “But . . .” She started to wobble, held her hand to her head, and groaned, “Oh, I need to sit down.” She flopped down on the couch, tipped over on her side, and closed her eyes._

_“I didn’t let her out of my sight,” Bellamy promised. The party had gotten kind of wild, but he’d kept an eye on her at all times. “I took care of her.”_

_“Is that what you call this?” Abby spat. “Look at her.”_

_He did, and he had to admit . . . it looked bad. Clarke was_ completely _wasted. She’d wake up tomorrow with a massive hangover, and she’d be sick and throwing up._

_“Do you really expect me to put up with this?” Abby yelled._

_“No.” He understood why she was upset. Really, he did. And he actually kind of felt bad for letting Clarke get this drunk. It was just . . . she’d been having such a good time._

_Abby crossed her arms over her chest and sternly asked, “What about you? Have you been drinking?”_

_“I’m not drunk,” he insisted._

_“That’s not what I’m asking. Did you have something to drink and then get behind the wheel with my daughter in the car?”_

_He wanted to lie, but if she sensed that he was lying, then it’d be even worse. Trying an honest tactic, he admitted, “Yes.”_

_She shook her head angrily._

_“But I only had one drink,” he assured her. He could handle one drink easily. “I know you don’t believe me, but . . .”_

_“You’re right, I_ don’t _believe you,” she growled. “And I won’t allow this.”_

_What did she mean? She wouldn’t allow . . ._

_“Go home, Bellamy,” she ordered. “And don’t bother coming back.”_

_He just stood there for a second, like a deer caught in the headlights. She didn’t want him coming back . . . tomorrow? For the rest of the week?_

_Ever?_

_He wished Clarke was coherent enough to help him handle this, but one glance at her slumped over, sleeping form on the couch was a reminder that she wasn’t. So he lowered his head, turned, and sulked back out the way he had come in, trying to respect Abby’s request. For tonight, at least. But he couldn’t stay away from Clarke for much longer than that. She was his girlfriend, after all, and he liked her. A lot._

****

“I don’t know if that’s juicy enough drama for a TV show, though,” Bellamy reconsidered as he finished reminiscing out loud. “I mean, it wasn’t like we were sleeping with other people or anything, and that’s what most shows use for drama.” Were it not for Clarke’s mom, there probably wouldn’t have been any drama in his and Clarke’s high school relationship. It’d been smooth sailing. Hell, even their breakup had been mutual. “Hmm. Might have to put this Clarke and Bellamy show on the back burner,” he decided. He was still joking around about it, but when he stopped to take a look at Clarke, she had a more serious look on her face. And she wasn’t looking at him. “Clarke?” he said.

Her head snapped up, and she met his eyes again. “Let’s go somewhere else,” she said, turning and walking off the bridge briskly.

He followed her, wondering what she’d been remembering while he’d been recalling his confrontation with Abby. Maybe she just found it harder to joke about her mom’s disapproval than he did. Maybe it bothered her more than it bothered him.

Clarke recognized and pointed out a few more locations from the TV show on the way to their next destination, the Battleship North Carolina. The ship was a museum now, but it had been a World War II ship, so Bellamy was pretty interested in it. As long as he didn’t have to do a whole lot of reading about history, he enjoyed learning about it. They went on a self-guided type of tour through the ship, but luckily, if there were any information plaques to read, Clarke handled that for him by reading them out loud. She probably wasn’t as interested in it as she was, but she did a good job of pretending.

The next day, they headed out to another one of the top attractions in Wilmington, a huge mansion from the Civil War time period, a mansion that just happened to have an awesome name.

“Ah, so this is why you wanted to come here,” Clarke said, “to see the _Bellamy_ mansion.”

“Please. Like I’m that shallow,” he said. But when they entered the huge and former home of the Bellamy family, he grabbed the nearest guide and said, “Uh, my name’s Bellamy. Do I get a discount on this tour?”

Nope. He didn’t.

There was an option to follow along with the tour guide, but both he and Clarke preferred exploring things at their own pace. Again, it was more of a history-related attraction, but Clarke seemed a bit more interested in this one. There were twenty-two rooms to see, all of which had been restored to be as accurate to the time period as possible. It made Bellamy wonder if someday people would turn Jake’s house into a museum. It was big enough to be one.

“So let me get this straight,” Bellamy said as they looked out the window at the garden area. “This John Bellamy guy was a doctor, gardener, a farmer, an investor . . .”

“And a businessman,” Clarke added. “Don’t forget that.”

“So he was good at everything.” _Damn_ , he thought. Here he was only good at football and sex. And _kind of_ construction. He was still learning there.

“Well, he was a slave-owner, too,” Clarke pointed out.

“Oh, so I got him beat there.”

“Yep.” She linked her arm with his and said, “You’re definitely the superior Bellamy.”

Oh, he definitely wasn’t, but it was nice to know that she thought that. He gave her a kiss as they headed into the next room. A children’s playroom, apparently. Huh. How appropriate.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy had promised that their last full day in Wilmington was going to be Clarke’s favorite, and he was right. They woke up, did some nice, lazy, early-morning lovemaking, and then got ready to head out to the Cameron Art Museum. Clarke absolutely _loved_ getting to see all the exhibits on display. There were so many cool works in different mediums. Paintings, sculptures, some more modern mixed-medium stuff. The museum showcased a lot of things from local artists, and Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if any of them were college students just like her.

“Okay, I know you liked the battleship, but to me, this is cool,” she said as she fawned over some gorgeous abstract paintings. It would’ve been great if Arkadia were big enough to have its own art museum.

“I had a feeling you’d like it,” he said.

“See, isn’t this just . . . don’t you think it’s beautiful?” she said, marveling at a piece titled _Slippery Window_. “Look at the lines and the colors.” It wasn’t really a traditional window on the canvas, but Clarke still felt like she could look through it and see something.

“What’s it supposed to be?” Bellamy asked.

“Well, it’s art. It’s open to interpretation.” She knew that a lot of people, maybe even Bellamy, would look at a lot of these paintings and just see lines and scribbles. But she saw so much more.

“It’s open alright,” he said. “It looks like a vagina.”

“It does not.” Although with that title . . . She tilted her head to the side, giving it a closer look.

“You can’t un-see it now, can you?” he said.

“No.” Maybe _Slippery Window_ was a euphemism.

One of the best things about this particular art museum was that they also offered classes, and an hour into their visit, Bellamy revealed that he’d signed them up for one. He really had done a lot of planning in advance for this trip. She wasn’t sure when. Maybe when she’d been sleeping.

“How much did this cost?” she questioned as they sat together at a table during the class on watercolor painting. Clarke had limited experience with watercolors herself, so this was actually beneficial.

“It’s just a one-day workshop,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

She dipped her brush into the water, then pressed it against the blue paint, thoroughly coating it. When she pressed it against her paper, a deep but fluid blue color appeared. “I wish we had stuff like this back home,” she said, keeping her voice quiet so that she didn’t disturb her fellow students. “Do you know how many people would benefit from this? It’s such a stress relief.” It was quiet and relaxing and peaceful. They’d received some initial instruction, but the class was intermediate level, so a lot of it was just devoted to independent work time.

“Speak for yourself,” Bellamy said as he swirled his brush around on his paper. “I’m pretty stressed about how crappy mine looks.”

Clarke cringed. His . . . definitely was something. He’d tried blending too many colors together, so instead of all sorts of beautiful pastel shades, he’d ended up with . . . sort of this muddy brown. “What is that?” she asked. “A ‘slippery window?’”

He chuckled. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Oh, she got a kick out of him. Bellamy was by no means an artist. His hands were good at _many_ other things, but not at painting.

The instructor came by their table, looked at what Clarke was doing, and said, “That’s lovely.”

“Thank you.” She really didn’t have any image in mind. She was just working on a sky for now. Maybe it’d end up being a night sky. A sunset. She wasn’t really sure yet.

“Are you an artist?” the instructor asked.

Was she? No, technically, she was a biology major. “In my free-time,” she said.

“I’m not, obviously,” Bellamy piped up.

The instructor shifted focus to Bellamy’s work, and obviously he was just trying to be nice as he said, “Everyone has to start somewhere. Keep going.”

_Poor Bellamy_ , Clarke thought, having to stifle her laughter as the instructor continued roaming the classroom. He needed a beginner level class for this.

“Stop it,” he said, though he was smiling, too. “This isn’t as easy as throwing a football, okay? I suck at this.”

“But I love you for trying,” she said. How many girls out there had a boyfriend who was willing to sit through a watercolor workshop with her? She was pretty lucky.

As if the day hadn’t already been nice enough, that evening, Bellamy revealed that he had one more surprise lined up for the weekend. And when he brought Clarke outside the hotel and she saw a horse-drawn carriage—a _literal_ horse-drawn carriage—waiting for her, she nearly cried. It was just so sweet and so fairytale-like, and again, it made her feel so lucky. She _really_ didn’t deserve this mini-vacation with him. But she climbed up into that carriage anyway, loving that this was how they were spending their last night in Wilmington.

“Okay, now _this_ is the pinnacle of romance,” she said as the carriage took them through the historic district. It was pretty chilly out, so she really had no choice but to snuggle up with Bellamy. He kept her plenty warm.

“You feel like a princess?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Good.” He tightened his arm around her, squeezing her shoulder.

“This has been so nice,” she said. “I don’t wanna go back to the real world.”

“Me, neither,” he said.

“Back to work, back to classes . . . back to reality.”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, then said, “Ah, reality’s not so bad, though. I mean, I get to wake up to you every day, come home to you every night. I got it pretty good.”

“Me, too.” As nice as it was to be away from everything, they’d go home tomorrow and have New Year’s to look forward to. Together.

Suddenly, she felt movement in her stomach, the kind that definitely was not gas. “Oh my god,” she gasped, sitting up straighter.

“What?” Bellamy had this immediate look of concern on his face.

“The baby,” she said.

“What is it?”

“She’s kicking.” There was no mistaking it. That little girl was moving around. “Stop the carriage,” she told the driver, and as they slowed to a halt, she said, “Here, feel,” and grabbed Bellamy’s hand. She placed it on her stomach, right over the spot where she was feeling the kicks from the inside. “Do you feel her?” she asked him.

Bellamy kept his hand pressed to her stomach, a look of awe in his eyes and all over his face “Yeah, I do,” he said, looking like he was about to cry. There were tears in his eyes.

There were tears in hers, too, as she smiled and laughed a little, and the baby just kept kicking. She definitely understood now why some mothers described it as a popcorn popping sensation. It felt exactly like that. But feeling it herself was one thing. Knowing that Bellamy could feel it now, too . . . that just made it even more special.


	34. Chapter 34

_Chapter 34_

Coming home to Arkadia wasn’t as tough as Bellamy had expected. Sure, the time away had been nice, but it’d also added up. Going to see all those attractions and buying all that food and paying for a hotel room that was out of his price range meant that he had to replenish his funds. Which meant he had to get back to work. Luckily, his crew didn’t have to work on New Year’s Day. Still had to work on New Year’s Eve, but he could handle that. The on-campus build at the library was nearing its final stages, so the work wasn’t too strenuous anymore. It’d be onto another project after this.

“You’re late,” Roan said as he ambled on site.

“I know.” He put on his hard hat, hoping the clock on his dashboard was right and that he was only ten minutes late and not twenty. “You think Emerson noticed?”

“Probably.”

Damn. Bellamy looked around for his boss, and indeed, there he was, walking around supervising all the work that was being done, barking orders. His eyes met Bellamy’s for a second, and he shook his head disappointedly, a sure sign that, yes, he had noticed that Bellamy hadn’t been there on time.

“How was the time with your girl?” Roan asked.

“Great.” Bellamy grabbed a hammer in an attempt to look like he was busy, but his mind was still in Wilmington and on everything that had happened there. One thing in particular. “I got to feel the baby kick.” He still couldn’t believe he’d felt it already. Most of the stuff he’d read had said he’d probably have to wait a few more weeks, but every pregnancy was different, and he wasn’t about to complain that his daughter wanted to say hello to him a little earlier than usual.

“Crazy, huh?” Roan said.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t wait to feel her kick again.

“It’s gonna be even crazier after she’s born,” Roan warned him. “Hey, you still need help with that nursey?”

“Yeah, if you got a free weekend anytime soon.” He could try to build some stuff on his own, but he was still a bit of a novice when it came to construction. Roan was a pro.

“We’ll find a day to work on it,” Roan assured him. “But, uh, speaking of work . . . you better get to it. You don’t wanna give Emerson any reason to fire you.”

Bellamy looked over at Emerson again, discouraged to see that his boss was still eyeing him. Yeah, that probably meant it was time to actually do something with that hammer in his hand, so he forced his mind to leave Wilmington and got to work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As midnight approached and the New Year’s Eve party at Raven and Murphy’s apartment wore on, Clarke started to get tired of dancing. But Raven _insisted_ that they dance “like they were young again.” Which . . . okay, she hadn’t realized she was _old_. She didn’t _feel_ old despite feeling so pregnant. Even Harper had quit dancing half an hour ago and was hanging out in the kitchen with everyone else now.

When the current song finally ended, Clarke decided, “Okay, that’s enough dancing.”

“No, that was only, like, ten songs,” Raven protested.

“Twenty,” Clarke corrected. Yes, she’d been keeping count. “I can’t dance like this.”

“You look hot,” Raven insisted.

“I look like a planet.” It was good exercise and everything, especially since she’d mostly spent her first day back home lying in bed napping and watching TV, but dancing with her perfectly slim, trim, fit best friend made her feel self-conscious.

“Fine.” Raven groaned and at last quit dancing. She picked up a pen and a pad of yellow sticky notes off her coffee table and handed them both to Clarke, instructing, “Here, write down your New Year’s resolution. I’m gonna put ‘em in a bowl and then have everyone pick one out after midnight. We’ll guess who made which one.”

“Resolutions, huh? I haven’t made one of those for a while.” Didn’t most people resolve to diet or work out or give up soda or something? A lot of people ended up breaking their resolutions and just making the exact same one for the next year, too.

Clarke zoned out a bit, the tip of the pen on the paper, ready to write down what she resolved to do. But there were a number of things that came to mind, some easier to accomplish than others, and her pen stayed still.

“Come on,” Raven urged impatiently, “yours is easy.”

Snapping herself out of her daze, Clarke said, “Right,” and jotted down what was obvious. This year, she was having a baby, so this year, her resolution was pretty damn important. Since her dad and Alyssa were having a baby, though, too, she tacked on something to do with that, then tore the sticky note off, folded it, and handed it to Raven.

As her friend flittered around collecting everyone else’s New Year’s resolutions before the clock struck midnight, Clarke joined Bellamy at the kitchen table. He’d planted himself there about an hour ago, and the arrangement of empty cans of beer in front of him were evidence of just what he’d been doing.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out for her hand when she was close enough, “how’s my designated driver?”

“Still designated.” She sat down on his lap and asked, “How about you? Having fun?”

“Yeah.” He burped, and she could _definitely_ smell the alcohol on that burp, and then he boasted, “I just beat Murphy at arm-wrestling.”

“Of course you did. Look at your arms.” She squeezed his biceps, admiring how large they were. “They’re great arms to have.”

Either consciously or unconsciously, he flexed his muscles a bit, but then he finished off the beer in his hand and switched topics completely. “Did you know Murphy makes more money doing YouTube than I do working construction?”

“Oh, yeah. YouTube’s pretty lucrative these days, and he’s got followers,” she said. “If Raven wasn’t so frugal with money, I’m sure they’d be living in a really lavish apartment by now.” She couldn’t take her hands off his muscles. In fact, she was becoming increasingly distracted by them.

“Are you still thinking about my arms?” he asked.

“Yeah.” They were just so strong and encompassing. “And other parts of you.” She grinned flirtatiously.

“You wanna fuck in the New Year?” he offered.

“Most normal couples just kiss.”

“Well, we’re not normal.”

No, they weren’t, but they were still in an apartment that wasn’t their own. “Maybe we could just make out heavily,” she suggested.

“Like they’re doin’?” He motioned to Jasper and Maya, who’d barely come up for air since showing up a couple hours ago.

“Did Jasper lose his virginity?” she asked. Because judging by the amount of tongue he was using . . . it certainly looked like he had.

“Yeah,” Bellamy confirmed. “He was so excited.”

“Aw, they’re in love.”

“Everyone’s in love here.”

She looked around at all the couples—no single people tonight since Lexa had gone to visit Costia over the holidays; and Miller had brought a date to the party, a really hot guy named Bryan who just happened to have a really hot job: firefighter. “What about them?” she asked, motioning to the two boys, who were doing a better job socializing than Jasper and Maya but still seemed to end up pressed up together in the corner of the kitchen to make out a lot.

“That’s lust right now. That’s close enough,” Bellamy said. “And lust can become love. Just look at us.”

She smiled, not exactly sure when her lust for Bellamy had transformed into love for him. It’d happened fluidly and naturally, so she couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment. But she hadn’t been able to stop it from happening. And no one else had been able to, either.

****

_Clarke raced downstairs with her car keys in hand, surprised to see that her mom was home already. She’d been showering and blow-drying her hair, though, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she hadn’t heard her mother’s car pull into the garage or that she hadn’t heard her come in._

_“Hey, Mom,” she said, slowing her pace just a bit._

_Without even so much as a ‘hey’ in response, her mom stopped what she was doing in the kitchen and spun around with an angry look on her face. “Where do you think you’re going?”_

_Clarke stopped in her tracks, taken aback by her mother’s hostile tone. “To Bellamy’s,” she answered. “I’ll be home by 11:00.”_

_Her mom came towards her, shaking her head vehemently. “Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere.”_

_“What?” 11:00 was totally reasonable. Totally. “Why not?”_

_“Why not? Why_ not?” _her mom resounded shrilly. “Do you even remember how drunk you were the other night?”_

_Well . . . not remembering was kind of a side effect of being drunk, wasn’t it? “No, actually,” she said. They hadn’t really talked about it a whole lot and had pretty much been keeping their distance these past couple days. So she’d just assumed that it was water under the bridge at this point._

_“Well, it wasn’t pretty,” her mom said. “I’ll tell you that much.”_

_She sighed impatiently, feeling like, the longer this conversation wore on, the worse it would get. “Look, Mom, I know you’re disappointed in me for that,” she said, “but . . . it’s not the first time I’ve ever had a drink before.”_

_“You’re not helping your case.”_

_“I’m just saying, there’s alcohol at almost every single party. Even the parking lot parties we had during football season,” she tried to explain, all in the name of honesty. But if honesty wouldn’t work, she could make some promises. “But I don’t wanna drink that much again. And I won’t,” she declared. “I never would have even gotten drunk if Bellamy wasn’t there.”_

_Unfortunately, her mom took that to mean, “So he pressured you to drink?”_

_“No. I—I just knew he’d take care of me and make sure I got home safe.”_

_“Oh, well, aren’t you so responsible?” her mom bit out sarcastically._

_Clearly they weren’t getting anywhere, so Clarke tried to offer up any reassurances she could, just anything to get her out of their and over to her boyfriend’s, where his mom would_ not _come down on her so harshly because she saw her as a young adult more so than a kid. “Look, I won’t do that again, if that’s what you want,” she vowed. “I promise.”_

_“Well, of course that’s what I want, but that’s not_ all _I want, Clarke,” her mother growled. “I want you to go back to being my mature and sensible daughter. Is that too much to ask?”_

_“I still am your daughter.”_

_“No, you’re—you’re Bellamy’s girlfriend,” her mom bit out.. “And I couldn’t stop you when you decided to start having sex with him, and I couldn’t stop you when you decided to get drunk the other night . . . but I can stop you from seeing him now.”_

_Clarke instantly stiffened. “What do you mean?”_

_When her mom spoke again, she spoke firmly, with conviction and an authoritarian style Clarke had never heard her use before. “You’re not allowed to see him anymore.”_

Not allowed? _Her mind rebelled against that idea at once. Not allowed? “You can’t do that,” she said. It wasn’t fair._

_“Oh, yes, I can. I am your mother. You live under my roof, so you live under my rules.”_

_Clarke’s stomach began to knot up. This was serious. This was her mom laying down the law in a way she never had before._

_“And just in case you’re wondering, I ran this by your father,” her mom added, “and he agrees with me.”_

_Desperately, Clarke tried to think of some kind of compromise, but if even her dad was on board with this, then her options felt limited. “So you guys are just gonna forbid me from seeing him?” she said tearfully, clutching her car keys in her hand, knowing that, if she chose to, she could just run right out that door and take off._

_“It’s for the best,” her mother said._

_“The best for who? You?” How could any of this be for the best when the thought of not getting to be with Bellamy filled her with an ache that was going to keep her up all night? She didn’t want to go over to his place to go get drunk or even to have sex tonight. She just wanted to be around him. In a few more months, he’d be down in Florida, and she’d still be here, and she wouldn’t get to spend all this time with him anymore. “Look, Mom, I’m sorry I’m not your little girl anymore,” she apologized, even though she wasn’t_ really _sorry for just growing up. “But I_ am _still your daughter, and . . . please, you just have to trust me.”_

_Not even wavering in her decision, her mom shook her head. “I don’t,” she said bluntly. “When it comes to that boy, Clarke . . . I don’t trust your judgment.”_

_Clarke stared at her in disbelief, shocked. The fact that her mom didn’t like Bellamy was no huge revelation, but this? Hearing that her mom didn’t even_ trust _her anymore? That was._

_As tempting as it was to just break the rules and go to Bellamy’s anyway, Clarke felt too devastated to even enjoy her night with him and his family anymore. So she ran back upstairs, not even bothering to disguise the fact that she was crying now. She wanted her mom to know how bad this made her feel. Because she needed her mom to change her mind._

****

“What’s wrong?” Bellamy asked, rubbing her back.

“Nothing,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “I was just thinking about how many New Year’s Eves we missed out on together. I mean, my junior year, I just stayed home. Senior year, Raven dragged me out to a party and got a little drunk, so . . . I ended up kissing Raven.”

“If you hadn’t realized you were bi before . . .”

“And then the next year, I was with Lexa, and both years after that, I was with Finn,” she recalled. God, last New Year’s Eve had been awful. She and Finn had been arguing about something stupid—she couldn’t even remember what, and they hadn’t even kissed at midnight. “What about you?” she asked him.

“It’s all a little fuzzy,” he admitted.

“Well, what about last year?”

He had to think about it for a few seconds before he said, “I think I was with . . . Sofia? Was there a Sofia on that list I gave you?”

“There were several Sofias on that list.”

“Yeah, well, that’s who I kissed on New Year’s. And the other years . . .” He tried to remember, but eventually he just gave up and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“How romantic,” she deadpanned.

“I know. I just wish I’d come home sooner so I could’ve been kissing you.”

That would have been nice. As much as she’d always cherished her time spent with Bellamy in high school and loved being with him again now, she couldn’t help but look back on all that time in between and wish they hadn’t wasted it. “Well, we’ll just have to make up for it this year,” she decided.

“By making out heavily?”

“Or . . .” The more she thought about it, the more willing she was to . . . be a little more daring.

“The New Year’s sex?” he said a little too loudly.

“Shh!” she hushed him. No need to publicize it.

“You’re down for that now?”

“Can’t really resist,” she said. “But we have to be inconspicuous.”

“Got it.” He nodded, but then only a few seconds later, he was lifting her up off his lap, setting her down on her feet, and bolting up from his chair. He ran towards the bathroom, practically plowing through Monty and Harper. “Outta my way!”

_Oh, god_ , she thought, shaking her head in embarrassment. He couldn’t have made that more obvious if he’d tried.

As Bellamy slipped into the bathroom, Monty and Harper approached her, and Monty asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

She shrugged cluelessly and said, “When you gotta go, you gotta go.” Hopefully he didn’t get started without her, because unlike him, she was going to try to draw a little less attention to herself. Wasn’t going to be easy in an apartment this small, though.

Keeping careful watch of the clock, Clarke moseyed around a bit more, first filling up a glass of water from the kitchen sink, then pretending to be all interested in the new pillows on Raven and Murphy’s couch. Finally, while everyone else was in the midst of talking and laughing about . . . something, she seized her opportunity for an escape. She scampered to the bathroom and peeked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching as she slowly twisted the doorknob. But Bellamy ended up just yanking her inside and slamming the door shut.

“That was _not_ inconspicuous,” she told him.

“I don’t care.” He kissed her heatedly and, yeah, a bit drunkenly, and her hands immediately roamed his broad, bare chest. How considerate of him to have already taken his shirt off and unfastened his jeans. Making things easy on her. His words all blended together when he asked, “How much time do we have?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Seven minutes. Eight.” She really wasn’t sure. But if they timed it right, they could _definitely_ fuck in the next year of their lives. That honestly sounded . . . exhilarating and perfect.

Already ridding her of her clothes, he asked her, “You want me to eat you out?”

“Yeah.” What kind of question was that? Of course she did.

“Yeah?” His eyes gleamed with mischief and excitement as he helped her out of everything but her bra. “Here, get up here,” he said, hoisting her up onto the sink counter. She noticed that he had to put a little extra effort into lifting her up these days.

Raven and Murphy’s bathroom wasn’t exactly spotless. Raven had makeup items and hair products strewn all about the bathroom sink, so Clarke had to move some of them out of the way to get comfortable. Bellamy helped her get situated with her hips right on the edge of the sink, and to the best of her ability, she spread her legs. It wasn’t all that easy to do with her belly in the way. She wasn’t too big for this yet, though. And hell, even when she _was_ too big, they’d still find a way.

Bellamy’s dedication to performing amazing oral sex was truly admirable. Clarke had always enjoyed how he just go so into it, how he got off on getting her off, so when he got down on his knees and pressed his face up in between her legs, her thighs quivered with anticipation. With the clock ticking towards midnight, it wasn’t like they could take it slow, so he pressed his tongue right up into her folds, giving her several long, flat licks before focusing in on her clit.

Bellamy had lots of different techniques that he used to stimulate her, and she wasn’t picky, so she pretty much enjoyed any of them. But one surefire way to build her up fast was to flick the tip of his tongue against her clit. And that was exactly what he did. “Mmm . . .” she moaned, reveling in the teasing of it all. It didn’t take a lot of pressure or anything. Just that slight touch of his tongue made her feel so tingly and alert. “Oh, yeah, Bellamy. Oh, that feels so good.”

Bellamy managed to push her legs a bit further out to the sides, spreading her open even more, and he switched tactics then, running his tongue from side to side, still focusing on that little bundle of nerves. The change in tactics, though small, was noticeable, and for a moment, it made her feel like she was falling off the counter, even though she hadn’t moved anywhere.

They must have been a bit too loud, because suddenly there was a knock on the door, followed by Raven’s voice. “Clarke? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine!” she answered a bit too quickly. It took everything she had to suppress a loud moan when Bellamy inserted a finger into her. “I, uh . . . I started feeling sick, so . . . Bellamy’s holding my hair back.” _More like Bellamy’s going down on me_ , she thought, _but whatever_.

“If that’s your story,” Raven said, and Clarke listened as she walked away from the door.

Lifting his head up just slightly, Bellamy whispered, “She doesn’t believe you.”

“Any reason why she should?” Reaching down, she grabbed his hair, trying to press his face into her pussy again. “You came flying in here like a bat out of hell.”

“I was eager.” He gave her lower lips one big kiss, then grinned and asked, “You gonna cum for me?”

“Uh-huh.” The relative thrill of doing this while all their friends were out in the other room had her arousal at a peak.

Bellamy lowered his mouth onto her again, using his agile tongue to make tiny circles on her clit now while he continued to pump one finger inside of her. That finger was soon joined by another, and when she felt him making ‘come hither’ motion on the inside, she was a goner. She came hard, all over his chin and his hand, and he lapped up every drop he could get.

When he was done, he sat back and said, “You’re such a good girl.”

“Mmm.” She slid down off the counter and said, “I love it when you say things like that.”

Standing up, he said, “I love it when you cum,” and got to work taking off his jeans. “I wanna fuck you.”

“Probably just a couple minutes left,” she estimated, unhooking her bra. Even the comfier maternity ones made her breasts feel caged in.

As he shoved his boxers down and stepped out of them, he motioned for her to turn around and said, “Bend over.”

Being told to _bend over_ by Bellamy Blake was something she’d never grow tired of hearing. Under normal circumstances, she preferred fucking face to face, but being pregnant had caused her to appreciate doggy style and all its glorious variations much more.

There was still no time to take it slow, so Bellamy didn’t. He moved up against her, lined his cock up with her entrance, and teased it by just barely pushing in a few times. But that didn’t last long before, all of a sudden, he grabbed her hips and just plunged right in. With anyone else, especially someone of his size, it may have hurt a little, but with him, it just felt good. She was used to the feel of him, and she loved the feel of him. Over the years, she’d spent countless nights fantasizing about scenarios just like this.

“Oh, shit,” he swore, holding onto her hips as he began to move. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

“You feel good inside me.” She wasn’t sure if they’d both just gotten better at sex, or if her hormones truly did have such an impact on her arousal, or maybe if absence really did just make the heart grow fonder, because getting fucked by Bellamy was even better than she remembered. His hips just rammed hers so good, causing their skin to smack together. “Oh!” she cried out.

“Shh . . .” he shushed her.

But it was no use, was it? They hadn’t been inconspicuous, and they hadn’t been as quiet as they could have been, and all their friends knew how horny they were for each other. She really hoped they weren’t all standing on the other side of that door, getting a good laugh out of all of this, but she couldn’t contain herself as she murmured, “Oh, yeah, fuck me, Bellamy.”

A low growl rose up from his throat, and he increased the pace of his thrusts. His breathing was coming in ragged, heavy pants now, and when she chanced a glance at their reflections in the mirror, she saw that he was squeezing his eyes shut, almost as if he couldn’t watch what they were doing or he’d cum too soon. She tried to watch, but it was too much for her, too, and she had to lower her head.

“Bellamy? Clarke?” Raven’s voice rang out again. “About a minute ‘til midnight. You guys wanna come join us?”

_No, I just wanna cum_ , Clarke thought stubbornly, but she couldn’t even muster any words.

“No, thanks,” Bellamy rasped out. “We’re good.” His hips stilled momentarily, and his hands came around to cup her stomach. When it seemed like Raven had gone away again, he bent forward and spoke quietly in Clarke’s ear, “Can you hold out for one more minute, babe?”

“Can you?” she taunted. Sure, having had one orgasm already, she was primed for another, but he was drunk, so it wasn’t like his stamina would be at an all-time high.

It definitely seemed like it was becoming a struggle for Bellamy to hold out, so he slowed his pace a bit and started fucking her with long, deep strokes instead. Her insides felt like they were fluttering in anticipation, especially when they heard their friends out in the other room start the countdown to midnight.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Oh, god, they were so close.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

_So_ close.

“Four! Three! Two! One!”

Her pussy clenched, and as her friends screamed out, “Happy New Year!” she gripped down hard on the edge of the counter and moaned her boyfriend’s name. He came a few seconds after, grinding his cock as far into her as he could, and it was one of those orgasms where she swore she could _feel_ his release. It was just this pulsating . . . warmth.

His cock twitched inside her even after they were done, and he bent all the way forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to her shoulder. “Happy New Year, Princess,” he breathed against her heated skin. She smiled, too dazed to formulate a response. But she hoped he knew how excited she was to ring in a new year with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

If it was really true that the way you rang in New Year’s Eve was the way you spent the rest of the new year, then Bellamy was fine with that. Because that would mean he’d get to spend the whole next year fucking Clarke. No complaints.

“Look at that,” Murphy said teasingly when they finally emerged from the bathroom about ten minutes after midnight. “It’s a dual walk of shame.”

Their friends snickered.

“Who said I was ashamed of anything?” Bellamy countered.

“No, he’s right,” Clarke mumbled, blushing. “It is kind of embarrassing.”

It wasn’t to him, though. Hell, he was more proud than anything else.

“Good thing your sister’s not here,” Miller said. He and Bryan had taken his seat at the table and had their arms wrapped around each other.

“Yeah, good thing,” Raven agreed, “but in my bathroom? Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, but you don’t know what it’s like to have these hormones I have right now,” Clarke said. “I’m insatiable.”

“For food or for sex?” Murphy asked.

“Both, actually.”

Bellamy just smirked. Yep, hungry and horny. That was his girl.

“Did you guys at least clean up after yourselves?” Raven asked.

“Yes,” Clarke answered.

“Thank you.” Shifting gears, Raven held up a bowl and said, “Alright, now that the incredibly insatiable duo has rejoined us, who wants to find out what we all resolved to do this year?”

Murphy cackled and said, “I’ve never met a New Year’s resolution I won’t break.”

“Everyone take one,” Raven said, walking around with the bowl, letting everyone grab one small piece of paper out of it, “and then you have to guess whose it is.” Once everyone had grabbed one, she asked, “Who wants to start?”

“I will,” Harper volunteered. “Because this one is _super_ obvious.” She cleared her throat, then read off, “Be a good mom and big sister.”

Everyone looked right at Clarke.

“Aww, you will be,” Raven assured her. “Okay, Monty, you’re up.”

“This one just says . . .” He made a face. “Take over the world.”

Before anyone could even guess, Murphy raised his hand. “That’s mine.”

“Well, that’ll happen,” Raven mumbled sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Okay, the one I have must be Harper’s, because it has a lot of dance moves on it I can’t even pronounce.”

“I need to get better at Foutees and Grand Jetes,” Harper claimed.

“Whatever those are,” Raven said. “Murphy, you’re up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Murphy swore, “this one’s a whole fuckin’ novel.”

_Probably mine_ , Bellamy thought. He had a lot of resolutions.

“Be a good dad,” Murphy read. “Build the nursery. Get a promotion. Maintain the beard. Get Clarke’s parents to like me. Stay fit.” Even though it was already obvious whose he was reading, he squinted at the last line, what was probably nearly illegible handwriting, and said, “What’s this? Hardcore anal?” He glanced up at Bellamy questioningly.

“Yep,” he confirmed, nodding unabashedly. Anal sex was one of his resolutions. He had yet to show Clarke how good he’d gotten at it.

To her credit, she didn’t freak out on him for including that, nor did she seem to become very embarrassed. How could she, really? They’d already snuck into the bathroom to fuck in the new year. They’d already done their dual walk of shame, and she’d already admitted to being insatiable for sex. Nothing to be embarrassed about anymore.

“Well,” Murphy said, “that’s one way to stay fit.”

Bellamy just smiled as they continued on to the next person. Hopefully all those resolutions of his came true, because if they did, then it was going to be a very good new year.


	35. Chapter 35

_Chapter 35_

With classes set to start back up in two weeks, Clarke decided to make the most of her time off. She wanted to relax and hang out with her friends and with Bellamy, but she also wanted to be productive. There were things that needed to get done, like registering for baby shower gifts. Her apps had suggested doing that a couple weeks ago, so she felt like she was already behind schedule.

A couple days after New Year’s, when her friends finally seemed to have recovered from their long-lasting hangovers, she went to lunch with Harper and Raven and told them about her plans to register at Target. In Arkadia, there were no specialty stores like Buy Buy Baby, so her options were limited. Raven apparently saw it as a tactical maneuver when she said, “You’re gonna go to the place where Finn works to register for baby gifts? That’s so savage.”

“Well, it’s either Target or Walmart. And Target’s way nicer,” Clarke pointed out. “Plus, they give you a free gift bag with all these, like, coupons and samples and stuff.” It just seemed like the obvious choice.

“And . . . Finn works there,” Raven said. “So you can rub it in his face how DILF-y Bellamy’s being.”

“Wasn’t even a consideration,” she claimed, even though she kind of relished the thought of doing just that.

“Uh-huh,” Raven said skeptically.

“Sure,” Harper added.

Clarke wasn’t about to own up to something so petty, so she quickly pushed the conversation along. “Listen, I’m less concerned about _where_ I’m registering and more concerned about if you guys are actually gonna get me anything on my wish-list.”

“Of course we will,” Raven assured her.

“Yeah, we’re good aunts,” Harper said. “We do get to be aunts, right? Aunt Harper, Aunt Raven?”

“Obviously.” Being an only child meant that her friends pretty much _had_ to be aunts, whether they wanted to or not. Luckily, they both wanted to.

“Oh, god,” Raven said, a look of horror sweeping her face. “Does that mean Murphy’s an uncle?”

Harper burst out laughing, and a couple seconds later, Clarke joined in. Uncle Murphy? Well, she supposed every family needed at least one weird relative.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“This is gonna be fun,” Bellamy predicted as he and Clarke roamed back to the expansive baby section at Target. He had the scanner in his hand and was ready to register. Hopefully their friends and family would come through and get them a lot of this shit, because there was so much they needed and couldn’t afford on their own.

“Bellamy Blake, are you actually excited about shopping?” Clarke said.

“Hey, I don’t mind it as long as we’re shopping for baby stuff or sexy clothes for you,” he said.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna just use your phone?” she asked, motioning towards the scanner. “Like a normal person.”

“No, this is way more fun. I feel like a badass.” He aimed the scanner like a gun and made exaggerated sound effects as he pretended to shoot. “Pew-pew-pew!” When it beeped, he said, “Oh, shit,” and stopped playing. “Think I scanned something we don’t even need.” He shrugged, figuring it didn’t matter to have something extra on their list. “Where do you wanna start?”

“Strollers,” she said, leading the way.

“Those things aren’t strollers,” he said, in awe of their massive size. “They’re cars.”

“I know, right? That’s why I want a smaller one, something easier to maneuver.”

He caught sight of the price tag on one of the biggest ones and shook his head in dismay. How was anyone supposed to be able to afford all of this? It was ridiculous. “I don’t even know if my mom had a stroller for me,” he said. “I think she just carried me everywhere.” Had baby registries even been a thing back then? If so, his mom probably hadn’t made one. She’d been in high school, probably more ashamed to be having a kid so early than anything else. It couldn’t have been easy on her. But she’d made it work.

Some of the stuff they scanned was stuff that Bellamy had anticipated: diapers, wipes, bottles, things like that. But Clarke had a list pulled up on her phone, and on it were things Bellamy hadn’t even thought about. Like a fingernail clipper. Did babies’ fingernails really grow so long that they needed clipping? And a mobile. Hell, he’d figured he’d just jingle his car keys overhead and the baby would get a kick out of that. And some of the stuff they needed was just gonna break the bank. Like a car seat. If he wanted the highest-rated, safest one, which he did, then that was a couple hundred bucks. Their friends didn’t have that kind of money to just throw around. They were all still either in college or only a couple years removed from it. They couldn’t afford this stuff, unless they went in on a gift together.

Clarke seemed less intimidated by the price of things than he did, maybe because she’d grown up with money, or maybe because she knew her mom and dad could both afford to get them anything their friends didn’t. She perused the store methodically and told him exactly when to stop and scan. When they got to the baby bathtubs, he’d lost some of the scanning enthusiasm that he’d had at the beginning.

“Wait, babies need their own bathtubs?” he said.

“Yes. How else are they supposed to get clean?”

“I thought we just set ‘em in the sink.” He was pretty sure that was what his mom had done with him, and he’d turned out alright.

“Well, we set the bathtub in the sink, and then we just . . .” She trailed off, and her whole face lit up when she spotted a bathtub in the shape of what looked like a giant pink tulip. “Oh my god, look at this one. Isn’t this cute?”

“It’s a big flower,” he said.

“Imagine what she’s gonna look like sitting in this, splashing all around and being adorable.” Clarke held her hand to her chest, smiling wistfully. “Scan it, Bellamy.”

He aimed the scanner at the bar code and said, “Pow.” And just like that, it was on the list.

Next came the potty chair, which got him to thinking about diapers, which got him to worrying because he didn’t even know _how_ to change a diaper. He was going to have to ask his mom. Sure, it’d been years since she’d changed one, but it wasn’t like she’d forget how.

“Oh, the potty seat,” he said. “Can’t wait to clean that. Over and over again.”

“Should we get one shaped like an animal?” Clarke asked.

“No, she needs a throne.” He tapped the seat that had caught his eye right from the start. It was pink, of course, like most things geared towards little girls were, and had three of the Disney princesses on the back. “A princess throne,” he said.

“I grew up to be a princess, and I didn’t poop on a throne,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but . . .” He wanted his little girl to be treated like a princess. Not the spoiled kind, of course, but . . . dammit, he wanted that poop throne.

“Go ahead and scan it,” she said.

He smirked and did just that.

All in all, despite Clarke having her list pulled up on her phone, registering took a couple hours, mostly because they were both brand new at this and didn’t know what some of the products even were. He had to resist the urge to grab a couple toys and outfits on the way out, because although that was the fun stuff to shop for, they probably had those things covered already.

“You wanna go anywhere else?” he asked her as they headed back up towards the front of the store.

“No, I think we’re good,” she said. “And my back hurts.” She stopped abruptly as they approached the checkout counters, turned to him, and said, “Kiss me.”

“Why? Tryin’ to make Finn jealous?” he guessed.

“No.” She glanced back over her shoulder, then mumbled, “Maybe. I just wanna show him how happy I am. How happy _we_ are.”

Well, he had to admit, he wasn’t opposed to that. Despite not knowing Finn very well, Bellamy really didn’t like the guy. And he didn’t have any respect for him. So he had no issue lowering his mouth onto Clarke’s and giving her a big, obnoxious, PDA-filled kiss right there. He felt the eyes of a couple people passing by stop to look at them, and he didn’t care.

As their lips parted, Clarke touched her stomach and said, “Ooh, the baby wants to interrupt that.”

“Does she?”

“Yeah.” She grabbed his hand and put it on top of her belly, right where the kicking was happening. It wasn’t as obvious of a sensation for him as it probably was for her, but he still felt some movement. And it was awesome.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke cringed, unable to even look down at her stomach as Dr. Jackson examined her stretch marks. Yes, stretch marks. She’d started noticing them a couple weeks ago, but lately, they’d really started to bother her. The texture was just unpleasant, and her skin felt itchy.

“So everything looks normal?” she asked.

“Yes.” Dr. Jackson motioned for her to put her shirt down and took a seat on his roll-able stool. “Don’t worry, Clarke, stretch marks are very common.”

“But they’re also very ugly,” she lamented. Right now, hers were more white and flesh-colored, but she’d made the mistake of getting online and seeing what other women’s stretch marks looked like. Some were huge and dark. “Will they go away?” she asked, really hoping for a definitive answer.

“They’ll start to fade after you’ve given birth,” the doctor assured her.

That wasn’t definitive, though. She wanted more. “Completely?”

“Possibly.”

She felt her eyes widen as she tried not to freak out. But . . . _possibly?_ Just possibly?

“Just keep using lotion to help with the itching,” Dr. Jackson advised. “But that’s normal, too.”

She glanced quickly at Bellamy, who had very wisely never mentioned one thing about her stretch marks, but she wondered what he thought of them. Were they as repulsive as they felt to her? “I thought I was supposed to be having the model pregnancy,” she grumbled.

“You are,” Dr. Jackson said.

“This doesn’t feel very model-esque.”

“Every woman’s body changes, Clarke,” he said. “It’s all just symptoms of a healthy, growing baby.”

Well, when he put it like that . . . “I guess,” she mumbled. Of course a healthy baby was the most important thing, way more important to her than any physical feature on her body. But still, it would’ve been nice to carry a baby _without_ stretching out so much. “I feel like everything up here is good,” she said, motioning to her face. “I’m not breaking out, my hair feels thicker, and Bellamy says I’ve got the glow.”

“You do,” Bellamy said with a smile. “I’d tell you if you looked crappy.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” He knew better than to say something that would set her off. “But then you work your way lower,” she went on, looking down at her breasts and stomach, “and it’s just a freak show. I mean, my nipples are starting to look like pancakes. And I have random body hairs popping up in random places. And I swear to God, my feet are already so swollen, I don’t know how I’m gonna walk by the end of this.”

“Oh, it’s not uncommon to go up a half a shoe size or more during pregnancy,” Dr. Jackson informed her. “Your ligaments are lax, so your feet do spread.”

“Spread?” she echoed in horror. In her mind, she just pictured huge, ugly clown shoes, and she started to panic as she envisioned herself wearing them. “Like permanently?”

“Yes.”

_What the hell?_ she thought, outraged. As if it wasn’t enough that her waistline would probably never go back to being the same size, now her feet were gonna grow, too? “So all my cute size seven and a half shoes aren’t gonna fit anymore,” she said tearfully, “and I’m gonna have to move up to the eights?”

The doctor nodded and said, “Probably.”

Eights? She’d never worn a size eight shoe in her life. In fact, she sort of loved having small, cute feet. This wasn’t even fair. What had the female gender ever done to deserve such punishment?

As she started to cry, unable to control her emotion, Bellamy stood up from his chair and came to her side. “Oh, baby, don’t worry,” he said, reaching out to rub her back. “We can stop at the shoe store on the way home.”

“Don’t talk to me!” she snapped, swatting his hand away. When she got like this, she just had to let it all out. Even if she looked ridiculous and ended up crying all her makeup off, she just had to cry. And then later she’d feel better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy always looked forward to check-ups with the doctor, and even though today’s checkup hadn’t involved an ultrasound, he’d still enjoyed it. He liked getting that confirmation that everything was happening the way it was supposed to happen and that the baby was growing the way it was supposed to grow. Clarke’s weight gain was right in the average range, and none of her symptoms were abnormal. Of course, that was a lot more frustrating for her than it was for him.

“You wanna look at your new shoes again?” he asked, carrying half a dozen boxes inside. He set them down on the couch, making sure to conceal the Crocs. She’d had another mini-breakdown in the shoe store when he’d insisted that she try them on, but then once she’d gotten them on her feet and found out how comfortable they were, she’d agreed to get them.

“No. I’d rather go upstairs, put some lotion on my gross, disgusting stretch marks, pluck this random hair out of my neck, and then take off this bra so my huge nipples can breathe,” she said, dropping her purse on the floor.

“Want me to bring some food up for you?” he offered.

“Yeah, that, too. Thanks, Bellamy.” She trudged on up the stairs, and once she was at the top, he saw her bra come flying back down to land on the bottom step.

Bellamy sighed and shook his head, willing to give her some space tonight if that was what she wanted. When Clarke got in moods like this and felt down about her body, he sometimes wasn’t sure whether to just leave her alone or to do something or say something to remind her how beautiful he thought she was. Yeah, he’d noticed the stretch marks, but he didn’t think there was anything wrong with them.

Having just kicked his shoes off and ridded himself of his jacket, Bellamy was ready to start making some dinner for his girlfriend—he’d found that, no matter how crazy her taste buds got, macaroni and cheese was still something she never turned down—when his phone rang. He grabbed it out of his pocket and checked the name on the screen, surprised to see that her dad was calling him. “Hey, Jake,” he answered.

“Hey, Bellamy,” Jake returned. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, not at all.” Balancing his phone between his shoulder and his ear while he set about gathering the supplies for macaroni, Bellamy said, “We actually just got back from the doctor.”

“The doctor?” Jake echoed. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a check-up.” Bellamy waited until he was filling up a pot with water to be boiled, making sure Clarke wouldn’t be able to hear him as he told Jake, “She’s not too happy about the way her body’s changing, but . . . you know.”

Jake paused for a moment, then said, “Right.” But that was all he said. Usually the guy was more . . . conversational. And if he’d called, surely there was a reason.

“So what’s up?” Bellamy asked him, shutting off the water when the pot was full enough. “Did you wanna talk to her?”

“No, I . . . I thought I’d call you instead.” Jake let out a heavy, audible exhale, then mumbled, “I couldn’t bring myself to tell her.”

Bellamy stopped what he was doing and frowned. “Tell her what?”

Again, there was a long pause from Jake, an even more drawn-out one this time. When he finally did speak again, his voice was even quieter, and a lot sadder. “Alyssa had a miscarriage.”

Bellamy stood still as his mind grappled with that word. _Miscarriage_. No. That couldn’t be right. “Are you sure?” he asked, recalling everything he’d read and heard from the doctor about how some bleeding was normal and there was nothing wrong.

“Yes,” Jake said solemnly.

_No, no, no_ , his mind kept protesting. That wasn’t supposed to happen. “‘cause Clarke had a scare a couple months ago,” he said, clinging to some small shred of hope, “but it was nothing, and now she’s fine.”

“It wasn’t a scare,” Jake said. His voice was steady and calm, but he still sounded emotional about it regardless. “We lost the baby.”

_Shit_ , Bellamy thought. Jake sounded . . . certain. The kind of certain a man could be when he’d gone to the doctor and gotten that dreaded confirmation that the baby was . . . gone. Swallowing hard, Bellamy wasn’t even sure what to say in response, so he said the only thing he could. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Jake said. “You guys can tell Abby, too. Tell her she doesn’t need to call me.”

Bellamy just nodded, even though Jake wasn’t there to see him nod. “Is there anything we can do?” he asked.

“No. I just want Clarke to focus on her own pregnancy,” Jake said. “Alyssa and I . . . we’ll be fine. We have each other. We’ll get through this.”

_He’s trying to hold it together_ , Bellamy thought, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jake got off the phone with him and then started crying. He couldn’t imagine losing a kid, how hard that would be. And Jake and Alyssa had been so excited to have one. “I’m really sorry, Jake,” he said again, wishing there was something more he could say.

“Me, too,” Jake said sadly. “Goodbye, Bellamy.” He ended the call before Bellamy could say anything more, which was probably fine because . . . what else was he gonna say? ‘I’m sorry’ again?

To be quite honest, Bellamy wasn’t sure if tonight was the best night to tell Clarke about any of this. She’d definitely been down in the dumps today, and this wasn’t exactly uplifting news. But he also knew he couldn’t _not_ tell her, so he forgot about making dinner for the time being and headed upstairs. He heard music, not the guitar that she usually played, but the piano that tended to collect a lot of dust. She must have sat down on that piano bench around the same time he’d gotten on the phone. She still had on the same clothes that she’d worn to the doctor’s today, but her shoes were off. He stood back for a minute and watched as her fingers moved gracefully over the keys. She didn’t have any music in front of her, and he didn’t recognize the song she was playing, but it sounded nice.

“That’s pretty,” he said, making his way towards her. He squeezed onto the bench with her, sitting behind her, his larger frame encompassing hers.

“It’s out of tune,” she said, cringing when she hit the wrong note. “I don’t play this much. Maybe I should start. It’s kind of relaxing. Makes me forget about how horrible I look.”

“Don’t say that,” he told her, rubbing her arms and shoulders. “You look beautiful.”

She didn’t say anything to indicate that she believed him, and it pained him to know that she had a low opinion of her appearance right now. Her looks weren’t even the best thing about her. Not by a long shot.

“You wanna learn to play something?” she asked him.

He would have said yes had it not been for that troubling phone call he’d just received. “Not right now,” he said.

“Not right now?” She seemed to take that as something more sexual than it was as she stopped playing altogether and shifted around on the piano benching, managing to get herself turned around so that she was facing him, her legs draped over his as she pretty much hoisted herself up onto his lap. “I’m sorry I yelled at you in the doctor’s office today,” she said, scrunching his shirt up in her fists. “I got overly-emotional. Imagine that.”

He laughed a little. Just a little, because he didn’t really feel like laughing.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked.

“No. No, I’m not mad.” He brushed her hair back from her face, keeping his hand close to her face so he could massage her cheek with his thumb.

“Well, you look upset,” she noted.

He let out a heavy sigh, wishing he didn’t have to tell her this. But it was what Jake had told him to do, so he was gonna do it. “I gotta tell you something,” he said.

Her brow furrowed with immediate concern, and she gripped at his shirt more tightly. “What’s wrong?”

He wasn’t gonna draw it out, wasn’t gonna make her worry about it any longer than was necessary. There was no easy way to say it, so he just went ahead and said it as succinctly as possible. “Your dad just called,” he told her. “They had a miscarriage.”

Her hold on his shirt loosened gradually, but the rest of her didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. She stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, eyes that almost at once started to fill with tears.

He saw her swallow hard, and he heard her breathing start to become . . . shaky. He opened his mouth to try to say something comforting, but no words came out. She moved faster than he’d seen her move in weeks as she practically leapt off his lap and raced into the bathroom, slamming the door just as she started to cry. The sink started to run after that, probably her attempt to block out the sounds of just how much she was crying.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke felt . . . a little bit numb. Once she’d stopped crying, she just sat down on the bathroom floor, one arm on the edge of the tub, letting it all sink in. Her dad and his girlfriend had been expecting a little baby, and now they just . . . weren’t. Just like that, it was gone. A whole life full of potential and promise snuffed out in an instant.

It really just wasn’t fair.

****

_The second she heard the dogs across the street start to bark, Clarke knew her father was home. She jumped out of her bed, ran to the window, and pulled back the curtains just in time to see his Lexus rolling into the driveway._

_Wasting no time, she bolted downstairs, eager to intercept him before her mom had the chance. Luckily, her mom had fallen asleep on the couch about an hour ago and wasn’t even stirring, so Clarke didn’t even bother to be quiet as she raced outside. “Dad!” she exclaimed._

_“Clarke, put your coat on,” he said, lugging his briefcase in one hand, pulling his suitcase behind him with the other. “It’s cold out here.”_

_“I missed you,” she said, jumping right in front of him to block his progress. “I’m so glad you’re home. Mom’s been unbearable. You have to talk to her.”_

_He sounded a bit impatient when he asked, “About what?”_

_“About Bellamy.” She’d pretty much been grounded the entire weekend, which was both juvenile and excruciating. Plus, her mom had taken her phone, too, so she couldn’t even call him. “I know you wouldn’t forbid me from seeing him, right?” she said, desperately seeking an ally in this unfair war her mom was waging on her boyfriend. “She was just saying that?”_

_Unfortunately, her father’s lips just drew tightly together, and he motioned for the door and said, “Let’s go inside.”_

_“No, Daddy, please . . .” She got a sense of her own desperation when she called him_ Daddy _instead of just_ Dad. _That was what she used to call him when she’d been a little girl, but nowadays, she only used that name for him when she really wanted something. “Please change her mind,” she begged. “Bellamy’s a good guy. I wouldn’t be dating him if he wasn’t.”_

_“He’s a senior, Clarke,” her father said. “He’s graduating this year.”_

_“I know. That’s why I wanna spend time with him while I still can.” Couldn’t they just compromise just a little bit? Even if her curfew was set an hour earlier and Bellamy had to come over for dinner once a week or something . . . that’d be better than this. “Look, I’m on the pill,” she said. “I’m not gonna get pregnant. And I’m not gonna go out and get drunk anymore. I just wanna go see a movie with him or go have dinner. Is that really too much to ask?”_

_Apparently it was, because instead of being understanding, her father sounded very stern when he responded with, “Clarke, your mother and I talked about this . . .”_

_“But I know you don’t hate him as much as she does. She has, like, this vendetta against him, Dad. It’s not fair!”_

_Her dad . . . he just wasn’t budging. No matter what she tried, he remained steadfast, his expression not even changing. “When you’re a parent someday,” he said evenly, “you’ll understand where we’re coming from.”_

_That was what all parents said. But did they really think that, or were they just trying to justify their own crappy decisions? “No!” she yelled stubbornly. “No, I won’t understand!”_

_“Please try to be reasonable about this.”_

_“Reasonable?” she huffed. “When you guys have it out for my boyfriend?” No, she wasn’t going to be ‘reasonable’ about that. She was going to fight it, because her relationship with Bellamy . . . it’d come to mean so much to her in such a short period of time. And they didn’t have time to waste. “Please, Dad, change your mind,” she whimpered, letting her eyes well up with tears, hoping he might give in if he saw that she was close to crying._

_He seemed to be thinking about it for a moment, but when he simply said, “No,” she realized he hadn’t been thinking about it at all. Either he really did agree with her mother about all of this, or he was content to just sit back and let her take the parenting wheel. Either way, she was screwed. She wouldn’t be getting any help from him._

_“I hate you,” she ground out, turning and storming back into the house._

****

Clarke didn’t even move when Bellamy knocked lightly on the bathroom door, and he didn’t wait for an answer to open it and come inside. “You okay?” he asked.

“No.” She sniffed back tears, trying not to start crying again.

“Can I sit with you?” he asked, slowly approaching the tub.

She wasn’t the best company right now, but sitting with him was probably better for her emotional state than sitting by herself was. “Sure,” she said.

He took a seat next to her, groaning as he lowered himself to the floor. The tile wasn’t exactly comfortable, but . . . she didn’t feel like getting up and moving into the bedroom right now.

“Remember how scared I was when I thought I was having a miscarriage?” she said, having flashbacks of that blood in her underwear. Everyone once in a while, she’d still have a nightmare about it.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was scared, too.”

She felt so lucky that it hadn’t been the real deal. But poor Alyssa had probably seen a similar sight, and it hadn’t been a false alarm. “I can’t imagine it being real,” she said sadly. “I still worry about it sometimes.”

Bellamy leaned over, putting one arm on the edge of the tub to wrap around her. “You’re in the second trimester. The chances of anything happening now . . .”

“I know.” She’d done her research about miscarriages. She knew the statistics and knew that she was past the danger zone for having one. “But still . . . It just hits home. I feel really bad for her. For both of them.”

Nodding somberly, he said, “Me, too.”

Thinking about it all now, she felt like she’d been such a bad daughter in this whole situation. And that made her feel horribly guilty. “I wish I hadn’t been such a bitch when I found out,” she said regretfully. “They were so happy, so excited, and I just . . . I made it all about me. I was so mean to them.”

“It just caught you off-guard,” Bellamy said, obviously trying to make her feel better. “That’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I should’ve just been happy for them right from the start. But I wasn’t. I’m a horrible daughter.”

“Would you stop that?”

“No, I am.”

“You’re not,” he insisted. “You came around on the whole thing. And part of your New Year’s resolution was to be a good big sister, remember?”

“Yeah, well, can’t do that anymore.” A few tears spilled over, and she quickly wiped them away. “Look, here I am _still_ making it about myself when it’s really all about them. God, I can’t imagine how horrible Alyssa must be feeling right now. I mean, I _can_ imagine, but . . . I don’t want to. And my dad . . .” Her lower lip quivered, and she just wished she could reach through the phone and hug him. “He’s a good dad. I know he moved away after the divorce, and we don’t see each other as much anymore, but . . . I love him a lot.”

“So call him,” Bellamy suggested. “Tell him that.”

“Tonight?” She wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. “Or should I wait until tomorrow and give him and Alyssa . . . you know, time to grieve.”

“I don’t know.”

She didn’t want to seem uncaring, but there must have been a reason why her dad had called Bellamy and not her. He was probably still plenty emotional about it himself, and if they got on the phone with each other right now, it might just be too much for him. And for her. “I’ll wait,” she decided. “I don’t wanna be a blubbering mess when I talk to him.” She’d call him to tomorrow to check in, and to offer her . . . condolences? What were you even supposed to say to someone who was going through this? Sorry just didn’t cut it.

“Come here,” Bellamy said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as he scooted closer to her. She lay her head down on his shoulder, glad to have him there. He’d been the best support system she could have asked for all day long, and considering what an emotional mess she’d been, it couldn’t have been easy on him.

Her daughter moved inside her belly, to the point where Clarke thought she could even see her stomach move. And it was surreal, just like it always was. She put her hand on her bump, no longer as aggravated by the changes her body was undergoing as she had been earlier today. As awful as it was, this miscarriage her father and Alyssa were dealing with really put things in perspective, and suddenly, she didn’t mind her stretch marks so much anymore.


	36. Chapter 36

_Chapter 36_

What was supposed to have been a lunch between Bellamy, Clarke, and Lexa ended up just being a lunch between Bellamy and Lexa on Friday. Not that he minded. Lexa was turning out to be a pretty good friend. The girl was cool, and they had some things in common, like the fact that they both came from lower middle class households, and their shared interest in performing oral sex on women. That particular day, though, the conversation turned serious when he explained why Clarke wasn’t there.

“Oh god.” Lexa put her silverware down and stopped eating after Bellamy told her about Jake and Alyssa’s miscarriage.

“Yeah.” It was . . . pretty heavy stuff.

“Nobody deserves that,” Lexa said.

“Nope,” he agreed. They would’ve been good parents, too. But Alyssa was young, so at least they could try again someday.

“I’m never gonna be pregnant, never gonna have a baby,” Lexa said, “but I feel like . . . like losing one would be worse than losing a limb.”

“Probably.” Hell, he was never gonna be pregnant, either, and technically it wasn’t _his_ child that Clarke was carrying. But the thought of anything bad happening to that baby, _ever_ . . . he couldn’t even think about it.

“What’s their address?” Lexa asked. “I should send a sympathy card or something.”

“I’ll text it to you,” he said. “Clarke’s there right now. She decided to go see her dad today, before classes start back up next week.”

“Why didn’t you go with her?”

He motioned to his dirty clothes and said, “I had to work. Besides, I think . . . I think it was something she needed to do alone. Just him and her.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke felt so bad leaving her dad’s house with boxes full of baby supplies. Small but necessary things like burping cloths and teething rings and even something called a nasal aspirator, which she’d never heard of before. He carried everything out to the car for her, and she just felt . . . horribly guilty. Almost like she was taking something great from him, even though he insisted that she go home with almost everything he and Alyssa had already purchased.

“Dad, you really don’t have to give me all this stuff,” she said.

“No, you have to take it,” he said as he set the last box down in the back of her car. “We don’t . . . we don’t need it anymore, and you do. Besides, seeing it would just be painful. For Alyssa.”

“And for you,” she said. Miscarriages didn’t just affect the women who had them. All day, she’d been paying close attention to her dad, noticing how strong he was trying to be. But there was this sadness in his eyes that he just couldn’t mask.

“And for me,” he said, shutting the door.

“Are you guys gonna be okay?” she asked, hoping they hadn’t just been putting on a brave front for her today.

“We’re coping,” her father said. “We have each other. That’s the most important thing.”

All day, Clarke had watched her dad comfort his girlfriend whenever he saw tears in her eyes. She’d watched him put his arm around her, give her hand a squeeze, hug her, and sometimes just rub her shoulder as if to remind her that he was there for her. He’d never been so affectionate with her mom, and Clarke had to admit, even in a time of such sadness, he seemed so happy to be with Alyssa. “You’re, like, madly in love with her, aren’t you?” she said.

He managed a smile, a genuine one, and said, “I am.”

As skeptical as she’d been about it at first, the more she saw those two together, the more she believed in them. And maybe she should have believed and supported him right from the start. After all, she knew very well what it was like to have someone be so openly judgmental about a relationship. “Good for you, Dad,” she said. “Will you tell her I said goodbye? I don’t wanna wake her up.”

“Yeah, she definitely needs some rest,” he said. “So do you, I’m sure. This isn’t a short drive.”

She shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I should make it more often.” Seeing him around Christmas and seeing him now, even under these less than ideal circumstances . . . it was kind of nice. She’d always been a bit of a Daddy’s girl, and it felt good to re-establish that bond with him.

“Or I could come visit you,” he offered.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” She and Bellamy didn’t have a guest room, but Jake had plenty of old friends back in Arkadia. Plus, there was the Arkadia Inn, which was . . . well, sketchy, to say the least, but it would do.

Her father hugged her and said, “Thank you for coming, Clarke. I love you so much.”

There had been a time not all that many years ago that they hadn’t said those words to each other, not because they didn’t feel them, but because things between them had become strained. But time—and maybe a little space—had mended things, it seemed. “I love you, too, Daddy,” she said tearfully.

As he let go of her and took a step back, he said, “Do me a favor, though, okay? Promise me you won’t spend too much time worrying about me. I’ll get through this. You just need to concentrate on your own pregnancy, on staying healthy.”

She looked down at her stomach, which she’d tried to conceal with a baggy sweatshirt today, just so that he and Alyssa didn’t have to _see_ how pregnant she was.

“Do you promise?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Yeah.” At least he was still going to be a grandfather. She could give him that.

“Good,” he said, taking a couple seconds to just look at her before he said, “I’m so proud of you, Clarke.”

“You are?” That . . . kind of surprised her.

“Oh, god, yes,” he said. “I’m so proud that you’re having this baby.”

She inhaled shakily, more than a little emotional when she heard those words comes out of his mouth. Here she was, an unwed, knocked up college student, and he was proud of her. Because he believed in her and believed that she could do this. He’d always told her she would be a good mom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The benefit about having a bit of a drive home from Baltimore was that it gave Clarke some time to think. She didn’t even turn on any music, because her thoughts were . . . kind of important. Big-time thoughts. About her future and stuff. Spending the day with her dad had kind of put things in perspective.

Instead of heading straight home she made a pit-stop at her mom’s house. When she walked inside, she found her mom curled up in her favorite chair, in the midst of reading a book, which must have meant she’d either been home for a while or hadn’t had to work that day.

“Well, hi, honey,” her mom said, bookmarking her page before setting her reading material aside. “What are you doing here?”

“I just got back from Dad’s,” Clarke replied.

Her mother’s eyebrows arched curiously. “You went to your dad’s today?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“To check up on him.”

Slowly, her mother rose from her chair. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Clarke had purposefully put off telling her until now, because she’d wanted to talk to her dad first. “He and Alyssa . . .” There was no easy way to say it. “Their baby didn’t make it.”

Her mom put one hand over her chest and said, “Oh, no. Miscarriage?”

“Yeah.” She’d done some reading these past couple days, against her better judgement, and apparently they were a lot more common than people even realized, because sometimes they happened before a woman even knew she was pregnant. But the risk of miscarriage in the second trimester really was a lot smaller. She’d seen different estimates online, some that said one percent, some that said five. Any number was still too high.

“Oh, that’s awful,” her mom said, and to her credit, she didn’t sound clinical and doctor-like; she sounded truly sympathetic. “I have to admit, I wasn’t exactly thrilled when he told me they were . . . expecting,” she admitted, “but that’s tragic. For both of them. And for you. I’m sorry, Clarke.”

It totally wasn’t about her, so she just downplayed it with a shrug. “I probably wouldn’t have been the best big sister anyway.”

“That’s not true.”

Wasn’t it, though? Big sisters were supposed to be role models, and . . . well, she wasn’t always the best one. “Anyway, I just . . . I wanted to stop by because . . .” The words on the tip of her tongue suddenly became stuck in her throat, but she was determined not to lose the nerve to say them. She’d gone over it in her head repeatedly on the drive home, like an actress memorizing a script. Except she wasn’t playing a part; she was being honest. “Look, I’ve given it some thought,” she said, “and . . .” There was no backing out now, so she went ahead and blurted the words, “I don’t think I’m gonna go to med school.”

Her mom . . . smiled. Which was weird. And then she laughed, almost as if she thought she was hearing a joke. “What?” she said. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” Other things were just more important.

Her mother’s forced smile quickly fell when she realized that Clarke was being serious. Crossing her arms over her chest almost challengingly, she spat, “Since when?”

“It’s been on my mind for a while,” Clarke admitted.

“You mean since you got pregnant?” Her mom huffed angrily. “Clarke, you have to go to med school if you wanna become a doctor.”

Well, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? A part her mom needed to find out about. “I don’t . . . wanna become a doctor,” she revealed slowly, knowing that she was basically crushing her mom’s biggest hope and dream for her. When she was five, her mom had put a stethoscope in her Christmas stocking, even though she’d asked for a paintbrush. A few years later, she’d hung a poster of notable doctors over her bed, removing pictures of her favorite singers to do so.

“You can’t possibly be serious,” her mom said. “You’ve always wanted to be a doctor. Always.”

“No, that was always what _you_ wanted,” Clarke corrected. “It was just the expectation, that I grow up and follow in your footsteps.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, it’s not, but . . . it’s just not what I wanna do with my life.”

“Well, what _do_ you wanna do then, huh?” Her mom’s voice was angrier now, sort of a growl. “Work at the bar like you do now?”

“That’s temporary.” She wasn’t gonna be there forever. “Mom, you know me. I love art and music and . . . maybe I’ll have some kind of opportunities there. But even if I don’t and I end up doing something else . . . I have to focus on my daughter. I have a bigger priority now, and that’s being a mom.”

“But being a mom doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your whole future. See, Clarke, this is what I always worried about. This is what I was always afraid of.”

“I know. But you don’t have to worry,” Clarke assured her. She wasn’t sacrificing anything. “I’m excited. I like not knowing exactly what the future has in store for me. It’s kind of . . . freeing. I can just do what feels right and see where I end up.”

“Oh, yes, because the decisions you make when you’re just ‘doing what feels right’ have always been such solid ones,” her mom snapped.

That was a low blow. Really low. To bring up the past like that, when it had almost torn them apart once . . . real fucking low. And she wasn’t there for that. She’d said what she needed to say, and she didn’t need to stick around just to be made to feel worse. So she turned and marched right back out the way she’d come in.

“Clarke, wait,” her mom called after her. But there was no point in stopping, no point in waiting. The conversation wasn’t going to change. Her mom would continue to lecture her about what a mistake she was making and act like she knew what was best. Just like she always did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

From the second he walked in the door that evening, Bellamy knew that Clarke had had a turbulent day. He found her sitting in the middle of the living room floor, cross-legged, eyes closed. The lights were dim, and there were several candles lit around the living room. And she was wearing a red t-shirt that said _Keep Calm and Eat for Two._

“Whoa,” he said, a bit taken aback by everything he was seeing. “What’s this?”

“Shh,” she said, not even opening her eyes. “This is a happy place. It’s peaceful. It’s relaxing. And I don’t intend to leave anytime soon.”

A voice from her phone calmly instructed, “Take another deep breath. And just scan down the body as you exhale.”

_Meditation?_ he realized. She had a meditation app going on her phone. “What happened?” he asked, kicking off his shoes.

Her eyes snapped open, and she spat, “What—nothing happened, Bellamy! I’m just meditating. I meditate now.”

Making his way towards her, he couldn’t help but wonder, “Why?”

“Because I’m stressed, and . . .” She threw her hands down at her sides, talking over the voice on her app. “Dammit, this isn’t a happy place anymore! Do you know how long it took me to get this peaceful? Now I have to start all over.”

“You can mediate all you want after you tell me what’s going on,” he said, sitting down beside her on the floor. “Did something happen with your dad?”

“No,” she said, pausing the app. “No, that was great. I mean, it was sad, obviously, but . . . It was good to see him and to see that he’s gonna be okay. Alyssa, too. I could tell she’d been crying a lot, but she’s hanging in there.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “My mom. As usual.”

He’d pretty much figured. There weren’t that many people in Clarke’s life who could piss her off as much as her mom did. “What’d she do this time?” he asked.

“She got mad when I told her . . . some stuff.”

“What stuff?” he prompted.

Clarke paused for a moment, eyes downcast, then mumbled, “That I’m not gonna go to med school.”

He felt his eyebrows shoot upward, not because he was surprised by the decision—no, he’d seen that coming a mile away—but because he was surprised she’d decided to spring it on her mom today. “When did you decide that?” he said.

“It’s been on my mind,” she told him. “But all this stuff with my dad and Alyssa . . . it just makes me realize how important being a mom is. I mean, I’m not gonna be some homemaker, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But med school just isn’t feasible right now. And to be honest, I don’t wanna be a doctor. I never really wanted that.”

“You wanna be an artist,” he said. “Or a singer. Or both.”

She shrugged. “We’ll see. I don’t really know what I wanna be. But I know I _don’t_ wanna be Abby Griffin 2.0.”

Fine by him, because Abby Griffin 1.0 was already enough. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“Why?”

“Because I feel like you’ve probably been fighting with your mom more since I’ve come back.” He hadn’t meant to drive a wedge between them. That’d never been his intention.

“It’s not your fault,” she assured him. “It’s hers.”

Yeah, she could say that, but . . . it was no secret that Clarke and Abby had never seen eye-to-eye when it came to him. Abby probably thought he’d persuaded her into giving up med school. She’d find a way to blame him for it somehow. She always did.

“You know, she’s my mom. She’s gave birth to me, just like I’m gonna give birth to our daughter,” Clarke said. “So I love her, and I’ll always love her, but sometimes I really don’t _like_ her. You know?”

He almost laughed at that. “Oh, trust me, I know.”

“But then there’s your mom, and I’ve always liked her. She’s the best. And that’s the kind of parent I wanna be,” Clarke declared. “Not the kind who pisses her daughter off and makes her feel like the only way to calm down is to download a stupid meditation app.” She picked up her phone, shook her head, and closed out of the app altogether.

Personally, he thought it was adorable, seeing her in this _Keep Calm_ shirt, trying so hard to relax when there was just no way an app was going to help her out with that. “There are other ways to calm down,” he pointed out, feeling like he was the perfect person to get her mind on . . . other things.

“Such as?” she said, smiling mischievously.

He grinned back at her. Because they both already knew.

Twenty minute later, Clarke was up on the couch, her legs spread as he knelt in between them with his head bent forward to eat her out. Her body started to squirm as her orgasm built up, and when she finally came, she dug her fingers into the throw pillows and let loose the sexiest moans he’d ever heard from a girl. He’d given her a drawn-out, thorough tonguing, going deliberately slowly and taking his time, so his mouth was already saturated with the taste of her. But the small gush of fluid between her legs gave him something even better to devour, and he licked and lapped at her greedily all the way through her climax. So fucking good.

As she came down from it, a blissful smile settled on her face, and his chest swelled with the pride of being able to make her feel that way. Just like he’d thought, oral sex was way better than meditation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Around midnight, Clarke’s insatiable appetite got the best of her, and she had to get up and go downstairs to try to find something to eat. That pregnancy pillow, as comfortable as it was, was a pain to get off of. It was so damn huge that she kind of got stuck in it sometimes, and the rounder she got, the more she felt like a turtle on its back. It was getting to the point where Bellamy often had to wake up and help her out of it. After a long day at work, he was exhausted, so he just reached over and gave her a gentle shove this time, and that did the trick.

Once downstairs, she set about eating the remainder of the chocolate chip cookies she’d just picked up in the store yesterday. Then came the Doritos, then a small container of yogurt. She was all set to head back upstairs with a banana when headlights shone in through the window as a car pulled up outside. She peeked through the blinds, and despite how dark it was, she knew it was her mom’s car. No one else who would come to visit her would drive a car that nice.

Were they really gonna do this right now?

****

_Clarke sat in the principal’s office with her mom, arms crossed, legs crossed, her whole body angled in the opposite direction of the woman who seemed so hell-bent on making her life miserable. Not only was this exasperating, but it was humiliating. Her principal didn’t need to know about her relationship with Bellamy. None of the adults in that school did. But her mom seemed to think they_ all _needed to know, that they all needed to be aware how “unhealthy” and “damaging” it was._

_After comparing Clarke’s class schedule with Bellamy’s, the principal, Mrs. Sydney, confirmed, “It doesn’t look like they have any classes together.”_

_“I didn’t think so,” Clarke’s mom said. “But I just wanted to make sure. You know, I just thought it’d be possible that there was some overlap because Clarke’s in some advanced classes for her age, and Bellamy’s . . . not.”_

_“He’s not an idiot,” Clarke snapped._

_“I didn’t say he was.”_

_She rolled her eyes, because the implication was both obvious and intentional. Her mom thought Bellamy was a stereotypical stupid football player. But he probably knew a lot of things that she didn’t know. Just last week, they’d gone to a movie about . . . something. She really couldn’t remember because she’d been distracted by how hot he looked. But it’d been the historical fiction kind of movie, and he’d spent the majority of it pointing out all the inaccuracies._

_“The only time they might run into each other would be in the hallway or during lunch,” the principal said._

_“Can that be monitored?” her mother asked._

Monitored, _Clarke thought angrily._ Like I need a babysitter or something.

_“We have staff members who supervise lunch every day,” Mrs. Sydney said. “They can monitor that. And we can do our best during the day, but . . .”_

_“I would appreciate that,” Clarke’s mom cut in. “Because you know me, Mrs. Sydney. You know what type of parent I am.”_

_“The insufferable kind,” Clarke grumbled._

_Her mom ignored her and went on, “I don’t put up with this kind of behavior. Clarke is facing severe consequences for it at home, but it’s meaningless if she doesn’t face some consequences here at school, too. I want her to stay away from that boy. He’s no good for her.”_

_She grunted, so unbelievably pissed off. “You don’t know what you’re--”_

_But once again, her mom just kept on talking, not even hearing her. “Is this something all teachers can be informed about?” she asked._

_“Yes, of course,” the principal replied._

_All of a sudden, Clarke was picturing some teacher meeting where Mrs. Sydney detailed this whole fiasco. She’d be discreet, or at least Clarke hoped she would, but still . . . “This is—this is crazy!” she yelled, knowing for a fact that there were other students the staff members in that school needed to be paying attention to more than her. “Plenty of girls in this school have boyfriends. Plenty of girls in this school go out and get drunk with their boyfriends. Plenty of girls have sex with their boyfriends. Yet I’m the only one getting punished for it.”_

_“Clarke, your mother’s just trying to look out for you,” Mrs. Sydney said._

_“No, she’s trying to control me,” Clarke corrected._

_Her mom actually reached for a tissue from the box on the principal’s desk—over-dramatic much?—and said, “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with? This isn’t like her. She’s changed.”_

_“How?” Clarke challenged. “I still get good grades; I’m still going to college.” So what if she’d grown up a little and was doing more adult things now? She wasn’t a little kid anymore._

_“You’re acting like a spoiled brat,” her mom told her, “and your father and I didn’t raise you that way.”_

_“A spoiled brat?” Clarke resounded. “For wanting to spend time with my boyfriend while I still can?”_

_Since the conversation was heating up, Principal Sydney did her best to jump in and diffuse things by suggesting, “Let’s go ahead and send Clarke back to class. She’s already missed almost all of first period. You and I can continue this conversation on our own.”_

Fine by me, _Clarke thought grumpily. She’d rather be learning about valence electrons than sitting here anyway._

_“That sounds good,” her mom said._

_Mrs. Sydney looked at Clarke and used a way too nice-sounding voice when she asked, “Clarke, do you have any questions about anything we’ve discussed today?”_

_Yeah, she had plenty of questions. Like why did this have to happen to her and Bellamy? What had they done to deserve this? Were people in that school seriously going to follow through with keeping them separate, like not even sitting by each other at lunch? How was that fair?_

_Since not one of those questions was going to provide an answer she wanted to hear, she got up and stormed out of that office._

_On her way back to chemistry, she contemplated breaking these rules her mother and the principal had just set out for her. If she took a right at the end of the hallway instead of a left, she could stroll by Bellamy’s first period class, where the door was always hanging open. She could make eye contact with him and just give him_ that _look. The horny kind. And then Bellamy would make up some excuse to leave, like he wasn’t feeling well or had to go to the bathroom, and he’d meet her in the janitor’s closet. Wouldn’t have been the first time they’d hooked up there._

_“Clarke!”_

_She spun around when she heard her name. “Wells?” What was her ex-boyfriend doing trotting after her? He was a TA in the office during first period, so . . . had he overheard everything?_

_“Where you headed?” he asked when he caught up to her._

_“Somewhere,” she answered vaguely. “Why?”_

_“Mrs. Sydney asked me to escort you back to class.”_

_Oh, of course she had. The monitoring was starting up already. If they couldn’t get a teacher to do it, they’d get a reliable student like Wells Jaha. And Clarke didn’t want to get him in trouble for not doing his job, so reluctantly, she trudged down to the end of the hallway with him following behind her, and she took a left. Towards chemistry class._

****

Clarke opened the front door right as her mom was reaching for the doorbell. No need to wake Bellamy up again. Hopefully he’d fallen back asleep.

“What do you want?” she demanded, none too pleased to see her.

Her mother took off her gloves and said, “We need to talk.”

“It’s late,” Clarke pointed out, stepping aside so her mom could, at the very least, come in from the cold.

“We’re both awake.”

_Only because I’m hungry_ , Clarke thought, looking down at the banana in her hand. She was quickly losing her appetite, though, so she set it down on the coffee table, turned back to her mom, and folded her arms over her chest, waiting for . . . an apology, hopefully. But she wasn’t banking on one.

They stood in silence for a few seconds, _long_ seconds, it seemed, until her mom cleared her throat and started in. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier about your decision-making,” she said. And that seemed to be the extent of the apology, because the next thing she said was, “But honey, we both know . . .”

“Yes, I know, Mom,” Clarke cut in. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“I just think that something like this is a really big decision, and maybe we should talk about it some more before you just make up your mind.”

“We can talk about it all you want, but I’m not gonna change my mind,” Clarke told her. “I’m not going to med school. It just is what it is.”

Her mom shook her head in dismay, apparently still not willing to accept her decision. “Do you realize what that means?” she said. “That means the past four years of your life have been for nothing. All the time and all the money spent on this education . . . just down the drain.”

“I’m still gonna graduate,” Clarke pointed out. “I’m still gonna have a degree.”

“And what’re you gonna do with it?” her mother challenged. “And what about the fact that I’ve pretty much paid your way through college? Do you even feel the slightest bit bad about that?”

She did, to an extent. But she’d helped out by getting scholarships. “Of course I’m grateful,” she said. “But come on, Mom, let’s not sit here and pretend money is some huge concern for you. You own two houses.”

Her mom managed to seize on that to try to drive home her points even further. “Because I’m a doctor. Because I have a financially-secure job. Don’t you want that for yourself? Don’t you wanna be self-sufficient?”

“I don’t have to be a doctor to do that.” Technically, she was self-sufficient even now, with the exception of her mom’s assistance with her college expenses. Other than that, she paid all her own bills, paid rent.

“This is Bellamy’s influence, isn’t it?” her mom said. “He’s the one who convinced you . . .”

Her voice rose as she immediately became defensive of him. “Would you stop blaming him for everything? He has nothing to do with this. It’s not about him, Mom; it’s about me. And I don’t wanna follow in your footsteps. At least not when it comes to my career.”

A look of hurt flashed through her mother’s eyes, and, for a second, Clarke actually felt kind of bad. Her mom wasn’t perfect, obviously—hell, nobody really was. But she wasn’t the worst mom in the world, either.

“Clarke . . . I know it hasn’t always been smooth sailing between us, but please, you have to trust me on this,” her mother begged. “I know what I’m talking about. Med school is the next logical step for you. And I know it won’t be easy, and it might take a little longer because you’ll be raising a child at the same time. That’s understandable, and I’ll help however I can. But I will not just stand here and let you throw away your future.”

Before Clarke could get a word out in response, Bellamy’s low voice boomed from the second floor. “So then don’t stand here.” He came downstairs, hair messy and tousled, t-shirt wrinkled, and he didn’t look intimidated in the slightest. “In fact, why don’t you just leave?”

Her mom stared at him in disbelief and huffed, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, stepping off the bottom stair. “She doesn’t need this from you right now. She sure as hell doesn’t deserve it. So she doesn’t wanna be a doctor. Get over it. It’s her life; she can do what she wants.”

Clarke had never seen Bellamy stand up to her mom like this before. Despite all the insults and underhanded jabs she’d flung his way, he’d always tried to put his best foot forward with her. But he must have reached his limit.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve speaking to me like that under my own roof,” she snarled.

“It may be your roof,” he said, “but it’s our home. And you can leave it.”

_Oh my god_ , Clarke thought, her heart pounding. This was . . . awesome.

Her mom must have been taken aback by how blunt and forceful he was being, because she didn’t try to drag the conversation out any further. In fact, she didn’t say anything else. She calmly put her gloves back on and walked out the door without another word. But judging by the look no her face, she was pissed.

“Oh, shit, that was terrifying,” Bellamy said once she was gone.

“You did good,” she told him, “but you didn’t have to do that. I know you’ve been trying so hard to get her to like you.”

He snorted. “Screw it. I’m not gonna let her lay into you like that. I mean, who does she think she is telling you what to do with your life?”

“My mom.” Lots of moms did stuff like this. She just had to make sure she didn’t end up doing the same.

“Well, that doesn’t give her the right to treat you like shit,” he said, moving closer to her so he could put his arms around her waist. “She can come at me all she wants; I’m pretty much used to that. But not you.”

She looked up at him sadly, hating how that sounded. He was _used_ to it. At this point, he’d probably given up hope that her mom would ever like him. And that was so unfair to him, especially since it probably had more to do with high school than anything else. Her mom seemed dead-set on holding onto the past. But Clarke just wanted to focus on the future.


	37. Chapter 37

_Chapter 37_

“So you yelled at her mom?” Octavia tossed her head back and laughed.

“I didn’t yell at her,” Bellamy said as he continued to meander around her new living room. Lincoln’s living room, technically. She’d given him the grand tour today. “I spoke in a stern voice.”

“Like a dad voice,” she presumed.

“No, like a protective boyfriend voice.” It probably wasn’t that different than his regular voice, since he spoke so deeply, but oh, well. It’d done the trick and gotten Abby out of there the other night. “What was I supposed to do, just let her mom lay into her?”

“Maybe you should let them sort it out on their own,” his sister suggested.

“No, there’s nothing _to_ sort out,” he argued. “Clarke doesn’t wanna go to med school. I don’t see anything wrong with that. In fact, I’m happy she’s finally standing up to Abby. And so am I.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about that, too,” Octavia said. “You’ve let that woman walk all over you for way too long now. It’s just . . . I’m surprised. Telling the woman to leave her own house? That takes balls.”

Bellamy plopped down on the leather couch—damn, that thing was nice—and said, “Well, yes, I’ve got balls.”

“Ew. Metaphor balls, Bellamy,” she said, sitting down beside him. “I never thought you’d stand up to her like that.”

“Well, just imagine if Lincoln’s mom came in here and started sayin’ stuff to make him feel like crap.”

“That would never happen,” she claimed. “His mom’s a saint.”

“Okay, but just imagine,” he urged. “Even though you haven’t been living here long, wouldn’t you tell her to fuck off if she was making somebody you love feel like crap?”

Octavia thought about it for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I probably would.”

“See?” And knowing his sister, she’d use those exact words, too. She wouldn’t censor herself like he did.

Octavia startled a bit when her phone rang and leapt off the couch to grab it from the kitchen counter. “Oh, speaking of . . .” she said. “It’s Lincoln’s mom.”

“She calls you?”

“Yeah, she just likes to check in and see how I’m doing.”

He snorted in disbelief. “Must be nice.” If Abby ever called him, it’d probably be to yell at him or lecture him. Or both.

****

_Bellamy almost felt like he was in a trance as he watched Clarke slowly progress through the lunch line. She was standing with Zeke and Raven, and he wanted to be standing right beside her. Normally, he would have been. Hell, sometimes they got so handsy in the lunch line that didn’t even make it all the way through. They had to duck into a bathroom or dart out to his car or find someplace to go to just . . . release the sexual tension. But he and his mom had had a nice little sit-down with the principal after school yesterday, where Mrs. Sydney had made it abundantly clear that he was not supposed to have any contact with Clarke Griffin on school grounds whatsoever._

_“Look at her,” he said, practically salivating. “Look at that body. She’s so hot.” When Clarke bent over to pick something up off the ground, giving him a nice view of her ass, he literally had a knee-jerk reaction. His knee shot up and hit the underside of the lunch table._

_“Not my type,” Miller said as he crunched away on the last of his overcooked French fries._

_“Well, no shit.” Maybe Miller’s gayness was one of the reasons why they’d stayed such good friends all these years. They never hooked up with the same people._

_“Zeke, on the other hand . . .” Miller said, growling low in his throat. “If he swung that way, I’d be all over him. Don’t tell him I said that.”_

_“I won’t.” Bellamy returned his full attention to Clarke, who managed to look captivating to him even when all she was doing was tucking her hair behind her ear. “I miss her, man,” he said._

_“You mean, just the sex or . . .”_

_“No, all of it.” Contrary to what her parents may have thought, their relationship wasn’t purely a sexual one. They made each other laugh. She sang for him. He tried to explain football plays to her, and she never completely understood. “This sucks,” he lamented. “I can’t even call her. Her mom confiscated her phone.” He’d found that out the hard way last night when he’d texted something kind of dirty and gotten a response . . . from Abby._

_“That could end up being your mother-in-law,” Miller said._

_“No, come on, it’s not that serious,” he said._

_“Isn’t it?”_

_Bellamy wasn’t exactly sure what his best friend meant by that, and he didn’t get a chance to ask, because out of the corner of his eye, he saw his buddy Jasper stumbling towards the table with his lunch tray in hand. He appeared to be tripping over his own feet. “Hey, Jasper, what’re you doin’?”_

_“Being a spaz,” Jasper said, scrambling into the seat next to Miller._

_“He’s looking at a girl he likes,” Monty said, sitting down next to him._

_“Hey, what a coincidence,” Miller said. “So is Bellamy.”_

_Jasper’s head was downcast as he bemoaned, “Yeah, but mine doesn’t know I exist.”_

_“So go sit with her,” Bellamy suggested, “talk to her.” Jasper’s voice had definitely dropped a notch over Christmas break, so he was starting to seem more like an actual high school freshman and less like a former eighth grader. Girls would dig that._

_“I wouldn’t even know what to say,” Jasper mumbled._

We gotta work on that, _Bellamy thought. He only had a couple months left with this kid, the little dweeb he’d decided to take under his wing this year just so high school wouldn’t be too much of a living hell for him. They had to build up his confidence more before he left for UCF._

_Thinking about UCF, even for just a second, made him think about his grades and how they were back in the shitter again, so he changed the topic by asking Monty, “Hey, do you think maybe you could start tutoring me again?”_

_Monty, with food on his fork and his fork poised to enter his mouth, froze and just stared at him in disbelief. “Wait a minute,” he said, setting his fork back down, “not once in three years have you asked me to tutor you when it’s not football season.”_

_“I know, but I’m on this new campaign now where I wanna prove to Clarke’s mom that I’m not such a bad guy,” he explained. “So I figured it wouldn’t hurt to show her I can be a good student.” He wasn’t completely sure that he_ could _be, but he was willing to try, to find out if he had it in him without football as a motivator._

_“Sure,” Monty said. “Today after school?”_

_“That works.” It wasn’t like he had anything better to do since he couldn’t . . . do Clarke._

_Much to his surprise, their table got a little more crowded when Zeke, Raven, and Clarke herself approached. Even though they’d all been sitting together for the majority of the year, he’d pretty much figured that Raven and Clarke would sit with the other cheerleaders today. But Clarke sat down right next to him like it_ wasn’t _against the rules._

_“Hey, what’re you doin’?” he asked her._

_“Eating lunch with my boyfriend,” she replied simply._

_“She’s a rebel,” Raven remarked. The table was short one chair, so she chirped, “Ooh, chair shortage,” and seized the opportunity to sit on her boyfriend’s lap instead._ Unbelievable, _Bellamy thought. Zeke and Raven were eating lunch like_ that, _yet he and Clarke were going to be the ones to get in trouble. Simply for sitting next to each other._

_“You sure about this?” he asked his girlfriend._

_“Yeah,” she said, wasting no time opening her ketchup packet to squirt it onto her burger. “Who’s gonna stop me?”_

_Looking over her shoulder, he saw a teacher approaching. “Mrs. Walters, for starters.” She taught all the IT classes and was probably one of the nicest teachers in the whole school. At the very least, she was one of the only ones who thought he wasn’t a total lost cause when it came to education. She kind of gave off a grandma vibe, so Bellamy couldn’t really be mad at her for interrupting. She was just doing what she’d been instructed to do._

_“Clarke, I don’t—I don’t think you’re supposed to sit there,” she said softly._

_Clarke was just exuding defiance, though. She didn’t even bother to glance up as she challenged, “Why not?”_

_“Well, because your mom--”_

_“My mom’s not here,” she cut in._

_Mrs. Walters sighed and said, “Could you just move to another table? Please?”_

_“Nope,” Clarke answered quickly. “I like it here.”_

_Mrs. Walters, clearly at a loss for how to handle the situation, wandered off, probably to find Mrs. Sydney or someone else in the school who was a lot more stern and intimidating than she was._

_“Nice,” Miller said, reaching across Bellamy to fist-bump Clarke._

_“My girl’s a bad girl,” he said, sort of turned on by the complete and utter disregard she had for her mom’s stupid rules._

_“Your girl misses you,” Clarke said. “A lot.”_

_“She’s horny, Bellamy,” Raven clarified._

_“Yeah, I got that.” Last night, he’d lain in bed for about an hour just imagining what she was doing, wondering if maybe she was touching herself and pretending it was him._

_“And breaking the rules sounds all fun in theory,” Raven added, “except when it comes back to bite her in the ass.”_

_He frowned. “What do you mean?”_

_Raven gave Clarke a look, a serious one, and asked, “What do you think happens when you refuse to move? They tell your mom about it. She tightens the reins even more. Before you know it, you’re gonna end up in private school.”_

Private school? _Bellamy’s stomach clenched. Was that really an option? There was a private school in Polis, only about twenty-five minutes away. And although Clarke would look hot as hell in one of those uniforms, he didn’t want to risk her going there._

_He glanced over in the direction Mrs. Walters had gone, and indeed there she was, talking to the principal, motioning towards Bellamy and Clarke, probably explaining that Clarke wasn’t listening. Clarke must have seen them, too, because she sighed heavily and said, “I’ll figure this out, I promise,” as she grabbed her tray and got up._

_It sucked to just sit there and watch her switch tables, but what was he supposed to do? If he tried to stop her, he’d just make the situation worse, draw even more attention to it. Maybe now that she’d moved seats, they wouldn’t tell her mom about it. And they could get away with a whole whopping two minutes of interaction._

_Raven got up and moved tables with her best friend, of course, but Zeke stayed put. Once it was just the guys, Jasper said to Bellamy, “You_ really _like her, don’t you?”_

_He ignored the question and instead watched Clarke, noticing the way her shoulders were slumped now, the way Raven rubbed her back, and the way she lifted her napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. She was sad; she was crying._

_Yeah, he liked her. He really did._

****

It seemed like Octavia was going to be on the phone awhile with Lincoln’s mom— _Linda_ , apparently. They were on a first name basis and everything—so Bellamy got up, pointed to the door, and waved goodbye. She waved back, and he left her to talk to someone who might be _her_ mother-in-law someday as he headed out.

He sighed heavily as he shut the door, discouraged that it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for her. As anxious as he’d been about her relationship with Lincoln, he had to admit, it all seemed to be going well. She had a nice apartment to live in now, and she got along well with his mother, and it was just so simple for all of them. Meanwhile, here he was, six years after a lackluster first impression, and his relationship with his girlfriend’s mom was still a work in progress. Or . . . in shambles, actually. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that it was in shambles.

Sure, he was happy for Octavia. But it really didn’t feel fair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke finished cleaning off the corner table, then went back behind the bar and resumed her conversation with Raven right where they had left off. “So do you think I’m making the right decision?”

Raven hesitated a moment, then said, “I think it’s a big decision. _But_ . . . if that’s what your heart’s telling you to do, then yeah, I think it’s right, for sure. I mean, if you’re not fully committed to becoming a doctor, then the last thing you should do is commit to med school.”

Clarke grunted. “I wish my mom would see it that way.”

“Yeah, that sucks,” Raven empathized. As much as she _could_ empathize. She and her dad had one of the best parent/child relationships in all of human history. “To be honest, I’m surprised you stuck with the doctor plan as long as you did,” she said. “I thought for sure you’d do one year as a bio major and then switch over to something else.”

“I probably should’ve,” Clarke said, wishing she would have had the guts to speak out earlier and tell her mom that, no, this wasn’t what she wanted to do with her life.

Her attention diverted as the door to the bar opened, and in strolled Finn, sporting a slightly shorter haircut but still looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. “Speaking of things I wish I hadn’t spent more than a year on . . .” She trailed off.

Raven glanced over her shoulder, took one peek at Finn, and said, “I’m gonna get going. Good luck.” She slapped a ten down on the counter, hopped off her bar stool, and scurried towards the door.

“Hey, Raven,” Finn said.

“Whatever,” was the only response she gave him on her way out.

_Lucky_ , Clarke thought. She would have loved to have been able to dismiss Finn with one word like that. But she was literally carrying the guy’s offspring around in her stomach, so she couldn’t do that.

“Wow,” Finn said as he took over Raven’s stool. “You’re so pregnant.”

She made a face. “Yeah.” It was going on twenty-four weeks now. She’d kind of noticed.

“I just mean . . .” He let his sentence fade and then started over. “It’s kind of weird to see you like this.”

“Well, it’s kind of weird to be like this.” It was interesting, though, that Bellamy didn’t have any surprised reaction to seeing her. Because he saw her like this all the time. Her pregnant belly was just normal to him. But not to Finn.

“I was thinking of names,” he said. “Just ideas, you know. For girls.”

“How’d you hear it was a girl?”

There were plenty of people in town who could have told him, numerous mutual acquaintances they had, so she didn’t expect his answer to be, “Bellamy.”

“Bellamy told you?”

“Yeah, at that baby shower thing you guys had.”

Baby shower? They hadn’t had a baby shower yet. “Gender reveal?” she said.

“Yeah, that. Anyway . . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled up paper, the kind people wrote grocery lists on. He handed it over to her, and she saw that it was indeed a list of names. Just a short list, about a dozen or so, but long enough that he’d given it a little thought.

“Emma,” she read, immediately nixing it in her mind because of how damn common it was. “Violet.” Pretty, but too old-fashioned. “Florence?” Where had he come up with that one? Did he even know where Florence was?

“That was my grandma’s name,” he explained.

It was a nice enough name, but it just made her think of Italy, and thinking of Italy made her picture Bellamy dressed up as a gondolier. So she mentally scratched that one off and continued onto the next one. “Brianna.” She had to squint her eyes to read what he’d scribbled in parentheses right next to it. “Bri for short.” She laughed. “Oh . . . no. No. We are not calling her Bri.” Even if it was spelled differently than Bree from high school, there wasn’t a chance in hell she was giving her daughter the same name as that bitch.

“What about the other names?” Finn asked. “You like any of those?”

She skimmed the rest, finding nothing particularly wrong with them, and said, “They’re fine. But Bellamy and I already picked out a name for her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” They’d never actually made it official, but ever since he’d suggested it, it’d stuck in her mind. “Avery.”

“Avery,” Finn said slowly, as if he was testing out the name. He didn’t object to it, but he did ask, “Avery what?”

“Well, we haven’t picked out a middle name yet.” But when they did, that would be another her and Bellamy thing. Not her and Finn.

“No,” he said, “I mean her last name.”

_Her last name?_ she thought, feeling like she was being put . . . on the spot. She didn’t have an answer. Avery . . . Something. She didn’t know her own daughter’s last name.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke was able to fake some nausea in order to leave work early, before it got dark out, and that left her a little extra time to swing by Kane’s youth center to see if he was still there. She wasn’t surprised to see that he was. Kane put in a lot of hours with those kids. Sometimes he was there for twelve hours out of the day.

She found him outside on the steps, zipping up the backpack of a chubby little boy who didn’t look old enough to be walking home on his own yet. And it turned out, he wasn’t. Because he hugged Kane goodbye, then waddled across the street to get into an old, beat-up car.

“One of your regulars?” Clarke asked as she ambled up the steps.

“Oh, yeah,” Kane said. “His home life’s pretty tough.”

“Good thing he has this place then,” she said. “I’m sure he likes it here.”

“I think so. He doesn’t always like that I make him do his homework, though.”

That sounded like every tutoring session Bellamy had ever had with Monty. “But he’ll look back on it and thank you,” she assured him.

“I know,” Kane said. “Now did you come by just to boost my ego, or is there another reason?”

“I just wanted to check in, see how things have been lately . . .” she said, quietly adding, “. . . with my mom,” as they headed inside.

“Funny,” Kane said, pulling the curtain closed on the front window to signal that they were closed for the day. “She asked me to find out how you’ve been doing, too.”

So they had him playing the middle man then. Poor guy. “Well, classes started back up,” she told him, “so I’m miserable.”

Kane chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you’re still finishing your degree.”

“Yeah, it was never like I planned on dropping out,” she said as she followed him into the computer lab, where, judging by the amount of trash that had accumulated on the floor, a lot of kids had been working today. “I just don’t plan on continuing my education after this. Oh, and when I told her, Kane, you would’ve thought I was telling her the world was ending.”

“Look,” he said, bending down to pick up a discarded candy wrapper, “I know she can be a bit . . .”

“Insane?” she filled in.

“Dramatic. But try to look at things from her perspective. For your whole life, she’s envisioned that you’ll follow in her footsteps. It’s an adjustment for her to entertain any other option.”

“So she’s still pissed at me,” Clarke surmised. “Or is she pissed at Bellamy? Is she ever _not_ pissed at him?”

“She . . . needs a few more days to cool down.” Kane handed her a trash can and motioned for her to follow him around as he cleaned up.

“Can you just propose to her already so she gets in a good mood?” Clarke implored him.

“Well, I’d like her to be in a good mood _before_ I propose to her,” he joked around, “maximize the chances of her saying yes.”

“Oh, she’ll say yes no matter what kind of mood she’s in.” Clarke felt like his proposal kept getting pushed back because of . . . drama. Either drama involving her and Bellamy or Jake and Alyssa.

“So is that why you’re here,” he said, “to drop some hints about me putting a ring on it?”

“No,” she denied. “And Kane, you’re cool and everything, but you are way too old to be quoting Beyoncé.”

He didn’t take offense with her teasing. Never did. Instead, he just laughed and nodded in agreement.

“No, I’m—I’m here to ask you about something, actually,” she said. “Something important.”

He dumped a handful of trash into the can and simply said, “Okay.” Like he was used to young people coming to him with important things to talk about.

“Well, I know that you work with a lot of kids who are from . . . um, non-traditional families, I guess you could say,” she started in.

“A lot of them, yes.”

She set the trashcan down since they’d stopped cleaning for the moment. “Sometimes it’s probably hard to keep track of whose kid is whose, and which kids are siblings, and stuff like that,” she said, trying to gently segue into what was really on her mind. “Because so many of them have different last names than the actual _family_ last name these days. You know what I mean?”

He stared at her intently and said, “I think so.”

“I mean, there’s just a lot more variety now when it comes to families,” she went on. “It used to be a mom and dad getting married and then popping out the babies. But now we have more blended families and LGBTQ families and single-parent families.”

“You’re not gonna be a single parent, Clarke,” he assured her.

“I know.” There had been a time when she’d assumed she would be, but Bellamy had put that fear to rest in a major way. “But when it comes to naming my daughter . . . what am I supposed to do? About a last name, I mean.” The first name had been nothing but fun to think about.

“Well, you have options,” Kane told her. “You could give her your last name, Finn’s, or you could hyphenate them.”

“I don’t want her to have Finn’s last name,” she said decidedly. “His DNA’s enough.”

“Then give her your last name,” he suggested. “Since you two aren’t even together anymore, it’d be hard for him to dispute that.”

She thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I could just give her my last name. She could be a Griffin.” More and more women these days were keeping their last names even if they did get married. It was like a feminism thing.

“This isn’t about you and Finn, though, is it?” Kane determined. “It’s about you and Bellamy.”

It was. It totally was. And truthfully, she was glad her future stepdad was perceptive enough to figure that out without her actually having to tell him. “I know she’s not a Blake, not technically,” she said. “But he’s gonna love her just like he would his own daughter. He already does.”

“You wanna give her his last name?” Kane asked.

“I don’t even know if it’s possible.” It seemed like such a slap in the face to not even consider it, though, after everything he’d done for her.

“Well, to be honest, neither do I,” Kane said. “It’s something you’d have to look into and discuss with him. _And_ something you’d have to discuss with Finn. Because he’d have grounds to object to that.”

“Right.” Even if she _could_ give the baby Bellamy’s last name, chances were, Finn wouldn’t be too thrilled about it. What if she ended up having to go to court with him to figure it all out? That’d be so stressful and sounded like way more than she could handle right now. “Probably just the simplest thing would be to give her my last name then,” she decided.

“And you can always change it,” Kane pointed out. “When you become a Blake someday, she can, too.”

Clarke smiled, mulling that sentence over. _When I become a Blake someday_ , she thought, letting her mind race with the possibility. How many girls in high school had tested out their first name with Bellamy’s last name? How many had doodled it on their notebooks? She actually never had, just because she’d never let herself believe it was possible. But nowadays . . . it definitely seemed more possible than before.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dyslexia sucked. Even as an adult, it took Bellamy twice as long to read one page out of a book as it would take a normal person. But he was trying to read more, something like a book a month, maybe. Because when the baby was born, he wanted to be able to read her bedtime stories without pausing and stumbling over all his words. If he read fluently to her, maybe it would help her develop her own reading skills. And then she wouldn’t have the same problems in school he’d had.

_Who am I kidding?_ he thought as he flipped the page, already struggling to remember what he’d just read. The kid was half Clarke. She’d inherit her mom’s brains, and school would be a breeze. She’d be out-reading him by the time she was in second grade.

Clarke sat up beside him in the bed, watching some trash reality show on TV while she munched on chips. She knew how important it was for him to try to stay focused when he read, so she didn’t say anything to disrupt him. But eventually, he got to the point where his eyes just needed a break, and he set the book down mid-chapter and yawned.

“Finn came into the bar today,” she blurted, aiming the remote at the TV to turn down the volume.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Just to remind you he exists, or what?”

“No, he had a list,” Clarke informed him. “Of ideas for baby names.”

Bellamy tried not to react to that, but . . . fuck, it pissed him off. “You’re kidding me,” he grumbled. The guy never called her to ask how she was doing, never offered to go to any appointments with her, yet when it came to choosing a name, he wanted input? It seemed like he didn’t want to put in any work when it came to being a father, and he wanted to do _just enough_ to be able to claim some sort of involvement.

“Nice move telling him it’s a girl, by the way,” Clarke said. “I didn’t know you did that.”

Well, now he wished he hadn’t. “He was kinda . . . loitering around outside at the gender reveal party,” he told her. “I just told him so he’d go away.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “It’s fine for him to know. And I guess it’s fine for him to suggest names, too. Not that we’re gonna use any of ‘em.”

_Good_ , he thought. The less Finn had to do with all of this, the better. “What’d you tell him?” he asked her.

“That we already picked out a name.”

He made a face. “We did?” When did that happen?

“Yeah.” She smiled at him and said, “Avery.”

“What?” He smiled like an idiot. “We’re going with that? With one of the names I came up with? That’s what we’re naming her?”

“Well, if you still want to.”

“I do. Of course I do.” His chest swelled with pride as he imagined telling Raven and Miller and everyone else that he’d been the one to come up with that name. And he’d get to tell Avery herself someday. _Avery_. “It means _wise_ , you know,” he reminded her.

“Well, I looked it up, and actually, it means _ruling with elf-wisdom_ ,” she corrected. “But that’s okay. I mean, who doesn’t love a good elf?”

“Exactly.” Excited to finally have something to call that bun in the oven, he turned onto his side and reached over to put his hand on Clarke’s stomach. “Avery,” he said, smiling. “We’ve got a name for you now.”

“Still gotta come up with a middle name,” she said.

“Oh, I got some ideas for that, too.”

She set her hand atop his, eyes downcast for a moment when she said, “And then there’s . . . the last name issue.”

His smile fell. He felt it. Because . . . yeah, there was that.

“I feel like we’ve kind of purposefully not talked about it,” she said.

He hadn’t brought it up, just because he’d been waiting to see if she would. And now she had, so there was no avoiding it anymore. “Just so long as it’s not Collins,” he said. Anything but Finn’s last name.

“Oh, it won’t be,” she assured him quickly. “But . . . I think it’s gonna have to be Griffin.”

_Griffin_ , he registered. That was . . . that was fine. He’d pretty much anticipated that.

“Just because we don’t want there to be a big conflict about it or anything,” she rationalized.

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.” If they tried anything to go with anything else, that just opened up a whole can of worms with Finn and _his_ last name. “Avery Griffin,” he said slowly, letting the name roll over his tongue. “It sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. Leaning over, she hugged him and said, “Thank you for being so understanding.”

He hugged her back, totally fine with the decision. It made logical sense. And he hadn’t been kidding when he said Avery Griffin sounded nice. It really did. It was a good combo. But . . .

He couldn’t help but feel like Avery Blake sounded even better.

That night, once Clarke had fallen asleep on her side on her gigantic pregnancy pillow, Bellamy got his phone out and did a little research. Nothing too substantial or in-depth. Just enough to gather some basic facts, to know what options were available to them and what laws were in place.

Maryland wasn’t the strictest state when it came to surnames, not by a long-shot. But they weren’t as lawless as a state like Alabama, either. And there were some pretty recent reports about how more and more couples were hyphenating their last names. Like . . . Griffin-Blake. Or Blake-Griffin. But wasn’t there a basketball player named Blake Griffin? Couldn’t have that.

Just as he was about to go to sleep, he started reading up on something that caught his interest. Not because it pertained to him and Clarke, necessarily, but because . . . maybe someday it would. Apparently in this state, like many others, when a married couple had a child, the husband was just _presumed_ to be the father of the child until proven otherwise. That meant the husband’s name went on the birth certificate, unless the mother objected to it.

So there was a way then, a way for him to have his name on that birth certificate, to be listed as Avery’s father. Of course, Finn could object to it, but . . . maybe he wouldn’t. If he and Clarke were married, if their relationship was _that_ official, then maybe Finn just wouldn’t even bother.

He finally set his phone aside and lay down around midnight, a couple hours after Clarke had already dozed off. She was starting to move around a bit more, a sure sign that she’d be waking up to go to the bathroom soon, and when she did, he was going to pretend he was asleep. He didn’t want her knowing he’d stayed up and been looking at all this stuff. Last name stuff. Marriage stuff.

Marriage. That was . . . probably still down the line. And when he asked her to marry him someday, it wasn’t just going to be so he could be listed as Avery’s father. No, when he asked her, it was going to be because he wanted to spend his life with her. And there was no rush when it came to the asking.

Still, though . . . it gave him something to think about.


	38. Chapter 38

_Chapter 38_

Ironically—or was it coincidentally? Clarke always got the two words confused—the starting pose for the beginner level of prenatal yoga was called a child’s pose. But unfortunately, it didn’t involve curling up on one’s side in a fetal position. No, instead, they had to get down on their mats, knees gently parted to help make room for the wide range of bellies on display, and bend forward with their arms extended. They had to put their heads on their mats, too, and that simple move alone made Clarke feel uncomfortable. It was like a sex position without the fun.

He instructor, a woman named Luna with wildly curly hair and a hippie chick vibe, spoke in calming, soothing tones as she demonstrated each move in front of the class. “Take a few more deep breaths,” she said. “In . . . and out through your nose. Let your body relax.”

Clarke turned her head to the side and whispered to Raven, “I don’t feel fucking relaxed right now.”

Her friend, of course, looked athletic and elegant in this child’s pose. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because . . .” She was self-conscious about her body. Even though she was surrounded by about a dozen other pregnant women, some of them were still so tiny. Their butts were still small, and their breasts were still perky, and unlike her, they probably hadn’t gone up a shoe size. Some of them were even wearing sports bras, and Clarke didn’t see any stretch marks. Not fair.

“Rise up into a cow pose,” Luna instructed.

“A cow?” Clarke followed along, shifting to all fours. “That’s fitting. I feel like my boobs are udders.”

“You look fine,” Raven assured her.

“No, I don’t. You do.”

“Well, I’m not even pregnant.”

A couple of the women in front of them cast curious glances over their shoulders.

“I mean . . . I’m totally pregnant,” Raven fibbed, trying unsuccessfully to pooch out her belly. “Here for prenatal yoga. Yay.”

The women turned back around as Luna’s instruction continued. “Inhale. And when you exhale, round your spine. Go from a cow pose to a cat back.”

Clarke tried to imitate Luna’s movements, with varying levels of success. “What’s with all the animal names?” she wondered.

“Well, think about it: We already have doggy style,” Raven pointed out, smirking.

“True.” When she thought about doggy style, she couldn’t keep a giddy smile from spreading onto her face. Bellamy was so good at doggy style. And missionary. And letting her be on top. Every position, really. Half man, half amazing.

“Make your way into downward facing dog,” Luna said as she straightened her legs out, raising her backside into the air and making what was basically an upside down V with her body. “Splay your fingers out, get a nice firm stance.”

“Are you kidding?” Clarke whined. “I can’t even do this when I’m not pregnant.” She struggled to get into the position, feeling a strain in the back of her legs. Wasn’t this supposed to feel good?

They stayed in that pose for about a minute—which was a minute too long—before Luna said, “Bring your feet up to your hands, stay bent, and stretch your right arm into the air.”

Clarke walked her feet forward, envious of how easy some of these other women made this look. “Whose idea was it to do this again?” she asked Raven.

“Yours.”

“Oh, right.” She’d bought some special yoga pants and everything.

“You’re doing fine,” Raven assured her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Now switch to left,” Luna said, stretching her left arm into the air.

Feeling like the girl who was a couple beats behind, Clarke switched and said to Raven, “If this was cheerleading, I’d be kicked off the squad.”

Raven laughed quietly. “If this was cheerleading, you wouldn’t fit into your uniform.”

Well, she couldn’t blame that one just on the pregnancy.

“Slowly roll up, scanning down your body,” Luna instructed, sounding more and more like Clarke’s meditation app by the minute. “Feel your breathing in your chest, your belly, your legs, your toes.”

Clarke breathed a rather loud sigh of relief, happy to be standing up straight again. This she could do. Although her feet did kind of hurt.

“And now,” Luna said, “with your feet about hip distance apart, stand tall, put your hands on your belly, and just close your eyes.”

Clarke cupped her stomach, one hand on the bottom and one on the top, and let her eyelids flutter shut. The baby wasn’t kicking, but it was still surreal, even after all these months, to know that she was in there.

“Breathe in and out through your nose,” Luna’s soothing voice said. “Breathe for your baby.”

Just standing there like that, hands on her stomach, breathing deeply and thinking about her daughter . . . now _that_ was relaxing. And Clarke totally zoned out for a moment. Everything else just started to fade away, and she felt like it was just her and her baby. And that felt good.

After the session was done, Clarke wasn’t quite sure what to think. There had been moments that had been very peaceful, where she’d really felt like she was both exercising and calming her mind. But then there had been other moments, too, where she’d just felt incapable and anxious. “Well, that was . . . an experience,” she said, rolling up her mat.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Raven said, rolling up hers as well. “We should come again.”

“Maybe.” She wasn’t about to rule it out completely, but there was always that water aerobics stuff, too.

“Do you think I convinced people I’m pregnant?” Raven asked.

Clarke took one look at her best friend’s perfectly flat, toned stomach and said, “No.”

Raven pouted. “I’ll wear a loose t-shirt next time.”

As they headed outside the rec center, Clarke envisioned what Raven and Harper would look like someday when they were pregnant. They would be the women with the perfectly round bellies, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t even look pregnant until about five months in. They both had ridiculously fast metabolisms and could eat loads of fast food without even gaining a pound.

“So what else is on the mommy-to-be agenda these days?” Raven asked her as they strolled towards the parking lot.

“So much.” Just thinking about it made her head spin. “I have to do a gestational diabetes test. And we have to baby-proof everything, start thinking about a birth plan, actually get the nursery ready to go. But Bellamy’s kind of in charge of that.”

“What about a photo shoot?” Raven asked.

“A what now?” Of all the things on her list, that hadn’t been one of them.

“A maternity photo shoot,” Raven clarified. “You have to have one.”

“Oh, god,” Clarke groaned, “I didn’t even think about that.” Just another thing to schedule and find time for.

“That’s fun, though,” Raven said. “That’s nothing to stress about. And if you want, Murphy could probably help you out with it.”

“ _Murphy_?” she echoed, confused as she tried to follow Raven’s train of thought. “You want me to let _him_ photograph me?”

“Yeah. He’s actually really good,” Raven assured her. “And he’s got a good camera.”

If it was the same camera he used for his videos, then yeah, it was really high-quality. But Murphy was . . . sort of a loveable weirdo, and she couldn’t really picture him directing her into all sorts of beautiful shots. “I don’t know . . .”

“We can talk about it tonight,” Raven said.

“Tonight? What’s tonight?”

“Dropship.” They stopped at the crosswalk, and Raven stepped in front of her. “The grand reopening of our current only club in town. We’re going, remember?”

Clarke shrugged. “Not really.” She remembered the club closing down a couple months ago due to a massive cockroach infestation, but she didn’t remember hearing that it was ready to re-open again.

“You, me, Murphy, and Bellamy. It’s a double-date,” Raven said. “We planned it last week.”

“We did?” No recollection.

“Yes. Did your pregnancy brain make you forget again?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t care what people say about it, Raven. It’s real. Pregnancy brain is real.” She was forgetting all sorts of things lately. Like just this morning, she’d almost left the house without shoes on. “Although you won’t have to worry about it,” she said. “Your brain’s already enormous.”

Raven laughed and put her hand on Clarke’s shoulder as the crosswalk symbol came on. “Come on,” she said as they stepped down off the sidewalk and onto the street. “Let’s go home and find you something sexy to wear tonight.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke looked . . . sexy. Bellamy was surprised to see what she was wearing to Dropship, but not at all disappointed: A tight gold-dress that really emphasized her bump and some knee-high boots that must have been killing her swollen feet. When she put on _his_ jacket instead of her own . . . _Damn_.

“Oh, I remember when this place used to seem so cool and off limits,” he said as they shuffled forward in the line outside the club. “Bree and I tried to sneak in one time.”

“How’d that work out for you?” she asked.

“It didn’t. We didn’t even make it through the door.”

She laughed and then recalled, “Finn and I used to come here a lot. It was, like, our go-to date spot.”

One mention of that guy made Bellamy bristle. “You think he’ll be here tonight?”

“Who knows?” she said, very little trace of caring in her voice.

_Yeah, it doesn’t matter_ , Bellamy reminded himself. Clarke was there with him.

When they got into the club, they didn’t spot their friends right away. It was pretty crowded, almost like everyone of legal age (or at least with a very convincing fake ID) had shown up for the re-opening. It wasn’t exactly a large space, either, but when Bellamy spotted Raven and Murphy, he was glad to see they’d snagged a table. “There they are,” he said, pointing them out. He took Clarke’s hand and led her through the throngs of people towards their friends.

“Hey, what took you guys so long?” Raven asked.

Bellamy held out Clarke’s chair for her and unabashedly replied, “We were having sex.”

Murphy nodded, then looked to Raven and said, “You gotta respect a good quickie, babe.”

“It’s fine,” she said, then told Bellamy, “We ordered a drink for you.” Smiling at Clarke, she added, “And a nice soda for you.”

“Oh, goodie,” Clarke deadpanned.

Bellamy suspected it would end up being one of those nights where he drank _for_ Clarke, so . . . she was probably gonna have to drive them home.

“So I hear you two are in need of a photographer,” Murphy blurted, setting his elbows on the table.

“We are?” Bellamy asked.

“Yeah. For a maternity shoot.”

“Oh.” He looked at Clarke and asked, “We’re doin’ that?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “Don’t you want to?”

“Yeah, sure.” He was down for any pregnancy and baby customs, whether they’d existed for centuries or were more new-fashioned things like the gender reveal party had been. “How much does it cost, though?”

“He’ll do it for free,” Raven answered for her boyfriend.

“I will?” Murphy made a face, and when Raven elbowed his arm, he changed his tune to an affirmative, “I will.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at the guy skeptically and asked, “Since when are you a photographer?”

“I dabble,” Murphy said with a shrug. “Here, if I must convince you . . .” He whipped his phone out of his pocket, navigated to a webpage, and handed it over to Bellamy. “Samples of my work.”

Clarke took the phone out of his hands before he even got a very good look at it. But it looked like Murphy had an Instagram just for his photography. There were family photos, maternity photos, and even a couple wedding photos. “Oh my god, Murphy,” Clarke gasped, “these are really good.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he said.

“Because it’s surprising. I mean . . . you have talent.”

Murphy snorted. “ _That’s_ surprising?”

Bellamy chuckled.

“Wow,” Clarke said, continuing to swipe through the pictures. When she’d seen enough, she glanced up at Bellamy and declared, “Looks good to me.”

“Yeah, let’s plan on it,” Bellamy agreed. “When, though?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I gotta get more pregnant first.” She slid Murphy’s phone back across the table to him and said, “That should be fun.”

“Yeah,” Raven agreed. “See, I told you he could help you out.”

“Wonders never cease,” Clarke joked.

“Ha, ha,” Murphy laughed sarcastically. “But this does bring me to my next topic. Now that I’m helping you, how would you two like to help me?”

“Sex advice?” Bellamy guessed. People asked him for sex advice all the time.

“No.” Murphy made a face. “I already know enough about that.”

“Well . . .” Raven trailed off.

Ignoring her, he said, “Alright, how would you two like to be the subject of a documentary?”

Neither one of them said anything in response, and Bellamy was pretty sure they both looked completely puzzled. But finally, Clarke spat, “A docu-whatery?”

“Oh, it’s not just any documentary,” Murphy said. “It’s mine. I’m making a film.”

“For . . . your YouTube channel?” Bellamy guessed. He still didn’t get how Murphy could make a career out of that.

“Yeah. I wanna do something different, branch out from the usual rants and vlogs,” Murphy explained. “And Shane Dawson’s out there making a killing of it with his documentaries.”

“Who’s Shane Dawson?” Clarke asked. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Murphy rubbed his forehead and groaned. “Oh, Clarke, you already sound like such a mom already. Shane Dawson. One of the biggest creators on the platform. He was my idol before he got caught up in scandals.”

The name didn’t appear to be ringing a bell for Clarke, and it didn’t for Bellamy, either.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter,” Murphy dismissed. “Anyway, my point is, I’ve got this idea for a film, and I think it’d be a big hit. And I want you two to be the stars of it.”

“Why?” Clarke asked.

“Because we’re hot and interesting, obviously,” Bellamy jumped in to answer. People used to tell him he should go to Hollywood if the football career didn’t work out. Either that or become a male escort.

“He’s not wrong,” Murphy said. “Ever since he came to town, all my viewers have been noticing him. Every comment section on every vlog is just filled with people asking when they’re gonna see more of ‘the hot guy’ in my videos.”

“The hot guy?” Bellamy echoed, grinning. “That’s what they call me?” He liked that.

“Well, what do they call me?” Clarke asked.

“The pregnant chick,” Murphy responded.

“Oh, lovely.”

“They’re interested in the two of you. They wanna see more,” Murphy told them. “And personally, I find it fascinating. Small-town high school lovers, separated for five years before fate brings them back together. But, fate works in mysterious ways. Because the pregnant chick is . . . well, pregnant, and the hot guy decides to step in and help raise a child fathered by another man.”

_Holy shit_ , Bellamy thought. It did sound kind of like a soap opera. Or a chick flick.

Clarke still seemed skeptical about Murphy’s sales pitch. “Why do people wanna see more about that?”

“Because, it’s a love story,” Murphy said. “But not the typical kind.”

_A love story_ , Bellamy thought. Yeah, it sure as hell was. It was _their_ love story, and it was unique.

“Well, I hate to tell you, but you’re probably barking up the wrong tree,” Clarke said. Motioning to Bellamy, she added, “This one here doesn’t even have any social media.”

“Actually . . .” Despite his aversion to a great deal of things online, Bellamy didn’t hate the sound of this. “I think it’d be kind of cool.”

Clarke shot him a look of disbelief. “To broadcast our lives to his two-hundred thousand followers?”

“Uh, it’s two-hundred and fifteen thousand now,” Murphy informed her, “F.Y.I.”

Sure, it was a lot of people, but everyone posted about their lives online these days. And now that he didn’t have a football career to think about, he wasn’t so opposed to putting himself out there. It was just that, back in high school, his coaches had drilled it into him how one wrong tweet or one wrong picture could come back to haunt him, so he’d steered clear. But he wasn’t some hot-shot football star anymore; he was a construction worker.

“Think about it,” he urged his reluctant girlfriend. “It’d be something for us to look back on, something to show Avery someday. It’s like . . . a digital scrapbook.”

She still seemed surprised that he was even considering it, but she didn’t outright say no to the idea. In fact, he saw the wheels of her mind, working, weighing out the pros and cons, thinking through her own opinion on the matter.

“Just think about it,” Murphy said. “That’s all I ask.”

It was good that Clarke wasn’t just automatically agreeing to the idea. It reminded him that he should think about it some more, too. Because if they agreed to it and put their lives out there for Murphy’s two-hundred and _fifteen_ thousand subscribers to watch, there would inevitably be some criticism. Some negative comments. There always were. But he really did like the thought of having some way to better document the rest of Clarke’s pregnancy, because as of right now, they were just randomly recording videos on their phones. And that didn’t seem like enough for something that was so life-changing and important.

They didn’t talk about it the rest of the night. They all danced a little, ate some food, had some drinks, and since Bellamy was drinking for two, he ended up getting a little caught up with PDA. Hell if he cared, though. No, he’d make out with Clarke in public all he wanted to. So while they waited at the bar for the next round of shots, he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Of course, Murphy was always filming something, always vlogging, and even though they hadn’t technically agreed to his film idea yet, he still aimed his phone in their direction multiple times that night. In the midst of their make-out, he came right up to them and shouted, “It’s the lovers!” which was almost enough to kill the mood. But not completely. Clarke shoved his phone out of her face, acting as though she were annoyed, but really, she wasn’t. He could tell by the smile on her face that she didn’t mind if two-hundred and fifteen-thousand people got a glimpse of how in love they were.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although reconnecting with Clarke had been the most obvious upside of his decision to move back to Arkadia, Bellamy was really enjoying getting to hang out with his old friends, too. And Jasper was one of them. Bellamy had always gotten this little brother vibe from that kid, which probably explained why he’d been so determined to rescue him from the hell that high school could be for someone who wasn’t suave or athletic.

Now that Jasper was no longer a virgin, he seemed determined to talk Bellamy’s ear off about sex. He had a list—a _physical list_ —of questions, and as they strolled across campus, headed to the student union for a quick bite to eat, he asked every single one of them.

“So it’s—it’s perfectly normal not to . . . _get her there_ every single time,” he said. Even though it was a statement . . . it was still a question.

“Oh, yeah,” Bellamy assured him. “I mean, it’s not realistic.”

“So when you’re with Clarke, she doesn’t . . .” Jasper trailed off momentarily, almost as if he wasn’t sure whether or not to even further the question. “I mean, not _every_ single time?”

“Well . . . most of the time,” he said, bragging a bit. “I’m incredibly skilled, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Jasper said. “That’s why you’re my messiah when it comes to this stuff.”

Bellamy shook his head, chuckling. “What’s your next question?”

“Oh, okay, uh . . .” First, Jasper crossed off the question about orgasms. “Sixty-nine. Should I be on top, or should she?”

_Oh, sixty-nine_ , Bellamy thought wistfully. He and Clarke couldn’t do that very well anymore because of how she was growing. “If it’s her first time doing it, I’d say her,” he told Jasper. “That way she can control the depth and all that. But if she feels self-conscious, she might want you to be on top. You should just ask her.”

“Ask her,” Jasper repeated as he wrote those words down. “Um, alright, the g-spot. What is it, and how do I find it?”

“That’s an involved question,” Bellamy warned him. There were some guys who went through their whole lives convinced that thing was a myth. “You know what, just get online, look some shit up. It’s all there.”

Jasper started to lag behind him as he wrote something more—probably a reminder to himself to look that up on the Internet—on his paper. “I just can’t believe I’m actually having sex now,” he said, scurrying to catch up. “Can you?”

“No.”

“I mean, I’m not a virgin anymore. I’m an actual man,” Jasper raved. “I’m doing _man things_.”

“You’re still a spaz, you know that?” Bellamy informed him. That was one of the coolest things about Jasper, though. He knew he wasn’t cool, so he didn’t try to act cool. He was just himself.

Like a dog distracted by a squirrel, Jasper started to wander as they approached the union and he spotted a table set out by the steps. “Hey, what’s this?” he said, veering towards the display. Bellamy followed him over, taking a look at what had grabbed his attention. Jewelry. Lots and lots of jewelry, the hand-made kind. It was mostly necklaces and bracelets, and Jasper looked awestruck by them. “I should get one of these for Maya,” he said.

“What’s the occasion?” Bellamy wondered.

“Nothing. I just wanna remind her how much I care about her.”

“Pretty sure she knows.” Bellamy wasn’t about to discourage his friend from getting a gift for his girlfriend, though. Girls liked spontaneous gifts. And if Maya liked it enough, Jasper might get to try his first sixty-nine.

“Which one would look best with a girl who has dark hair and a fair skin tone?” Jasper asked one of the vendors.

Bellamy didn’t exactly have much money on hand, but he wished he did, because he would have loved to pick something up for Clarke. Even though he was sure she knew how much he cared about her, too. Since this stuff was hand-made, though, it was kind of expensive. The people selling it had to make a profit somehow.

He ran his fingers past a long line of necklaces, imagining what each one would look like on her.

****

_Basketball at Arkadia was a joke, and Bellamy was pretty sure nobody gave a damn about going to watch the boys and girls basketball teams go compete for the conference title over the weekend. They weren’t going to win, and everyone knew it, even the players. But there was a pep rally for the event anyway, which Bellamy actually felt kind of peppy for. Mostly because he got to see Clarke in her little skirt._

_As he shuffled into the gym, he caught her eye right away. She was standing to the left of Raven in the first line of cheerleaders, and when she saw him, she clutched at something around her neck: the necklace he’d given her for Christmas. She was wearing it. He’d seen her wearing it a lot, even though he wasn’t supposed to be looking at her much._

_He climbed midway up the bleachers and took a seat next to Zeke and some of the other football guys like Roger and Dax, most of whom were doing wrestling as their winter sport instead of basketball. But Bellamy couldn’t risk an injury out on the mat, so he hadn’t wrestled since his freshman year. Chicks used to love seeing him in a singlet._

_“Our girls look good,” Zeke commented, grinning when the band started to play and the cheerleaders began to dance._

Oh, fuck, _Bellamy thought, so turned on by the sight of Clarke shaking her hips. It was just a simple dance, but she looked so good doing it. He just wanted to drag her into the locker room, hike that skirt up and . . ._

_“So what’s the deal with you and Clarke?” Dax asked from behind him, interrupting his perverted thoughts. “You done with her now or what?”_

_Bellamy shot an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “No.”_

_“Well, when are you gonna be?”_

_He hated the way Dax made it sound, like he was just going to throw Clarke away like garbage someday. And Dax was just a junior, so he’d still be around next year, probably looking to score with lots of girls who were younger than him. “You honestly think you stand a chance with her?” Bellamy snarled at him._

_His teammate shrugged. “Why not?”_

_Bellamy nodded towards his crotch and said, “Well, because of your ‘little pony’ there, for starters.”_

_Beside Dax, Roger laughed. “Oh, shit.”_

_“Yeah, what do girls call that again?” Bellamy continued on, not letting up. “Justin? Because it’s_ just in _and nothing else?” He wasn’t actually exaggerating. Sharing a locker room meant all the guys on the football team knew what each other was packing, and Dax wasn’t packing much._

_“I’m bettin’ she’ll hook up with lots of guys when you’re gone,” Dax predicted. “You kinda made her into a slut.”_

_Bellamy just glared at him for a moment, then looked back out onto the gym floor at Clarke, his girlfriend, who was most definitely_ not _a slut. She was sleeping with him and only him, after all, and even if she wasn’t, that didn’t give Dax the fucking right to call her that. It didn’t sit well with Bellamy, but he couldn’t very well take a swing at the guy at a pep rally. Or . . . at all. UCF wouldn’t have liked that._

_“Call her that again and I’ll throw you down these bleachers,” Bellamy warned him. And like usual, that shut Dax up. Roger, too. They both thought they were cool until he laid down the law with them. For at least a couple more months, he was still the one in charge at that school, at least when it came to social stuff. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too hard for Clarke once he was gone._

****

Although he was more so just absentmindedly browsing the jewelry than truly looking at it, that didn’t stop the second vendor from trying to make a sale to Bellamy. She asked, “What about you? A pretty necklace for a pretty girl?”

They were just too expensive, and he didn’t have money to throw around. But it was tempting. “My pretty girl’s already got a necklace,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Maybe a ring then,” the vendor suggested, gesturing grandly to a ring holder that was, for some reason, in the shape of a cactus. Despite the ugly holder, the rings themselves were pretty nice, though. Probably not real diamonds or anything, but they looked real.

_Maybe a ring_ , he pondered, zoning in on those. They weren’t engagement rings by any means, and when he did get Clarke a ring someday, it was going to be a more expensive one. One with a real diamond. From a real store. Not a vendor on a college campus.

Still, though . . . he could always get her a promise ring in the time being. Just to promise her that they were headed in that direction someday. Although she had to know that, right? She had to know.

“Alright, I got it,” Jasper announced, holding up a sack after he’d made his transaction. “Let’s go get lunch.” He grabbed Bellamy’s arm and practically dragged him away from the display table, because Bellamy was still looking at rings, and his feet just didn’t move.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When he got home early in the evening, Bellamy found Clarke asleep. Not in bed, though. At the kitchen table. She was hunched over the kitchen table with books sprawled out all around her. And papers and notebooks. He recognized this Clarke. It was the same girl who’d helped him study for finals back in the day. She still had the whole dedicated student thing going on, even though she’d decided against med school.

He made sure to stay quiet as he made his way towards her. At first, his intention was to wake her up, because she just didn’t look comfortable, and her back was going to be killing her if she stayed like that much longer. But when he caught sight of her sketchbook lying in the midst of all those notes on the table, he held off. One of her drawing pencils was still in her hand, and the sketch she’d been in the middle of looked unfinished. He picked up her book, though, and took a good look at the picture. It was of a little girl walking down the sidewalk, holding someone else’s hand. Her mom’s hand, by the looks of it. And he didn’t know whether that little girl was supposed to be her or supposed to be Avery, but there was definitely a Griffin look to the facial features. So either she’d been thinking about her daughter or about her mother. He couldn’t quite tell.

“Mmm,” she moaned sleepily as she began to stir.

“Clarke . . .” He set her book back down on the table and bent down to scoop her into his arms. “Come on, Princess,” he said. “Let me get you upstairs.”

She leaned against him, clearly just exhausted as he helped her to her feet. And why wouldn’t she be? She’d been tossing and turning a lot last night. It’d kept him up, too, but he was fine. He didn’t have an entire other person inside, depending on him for . . . everything, basically.

That night, after she’d woken up just long enough to eat a quick dinner, they both lay in bed, both in need of going to bed early. But Bellamy still felt like he couldn’t sleep, even though she was relatively still as she lay all nestled up on her special pillow. He turned off the TV and made it completely dark in the room, but still, sleep didn’t come. He kept thinking about her drawing, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she’d drawn herself. Because she’d been adamant about not drawing Avery yet, not until she was born and could actually see what she looked like.

Clarke hadn’t talked about it very much these past few days and in fact even seemed determined not to dwell on it, but the whole disagreement between her and her mom was weighing heavily on her. He was pretty sure he’d caught her crying about it in the bathroom the other morning, but she’d just quickly wiped her eyes and blamed the tears on her hormones.

_I made it worse_ , he thought guiltily as he lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t— _couldn’t_ —regret standing up for Clarke when he felt like her mom had been laying into her too hard. But maybe they would have kept talking if he hadn’t interrupted. Maybe they would have figured things out if he hadn’t intervened.

The problem was, now he felt like he had to intervene again. Because neither one of them was making any effort to reach out to each other. And the longer they went without talking, the longer Clarke was going to be upset about it. Even if she went about her day-to-day routines and even went out with him and her friends and had a good time, there was still this rift between her and her mother. And he didn’t want it to be there.

He ended up slipping out of bed quickly and quietly, figuring he could leave, drive over to Abby’s, and talk to her without Clarke ever even knowing. That way, when Abby extended an olive branch, Clarke would think it was all her mother’s doing, wouldn’t even have to know he’d been the one to encourage it.

When he got to that huge house, he jumped out of the car, ran to the door, and rang the doorbell pretty incessantly. It was Kane who eventually came down and let him in. “Bellamy, what’re you doing here?” he said tiredly. “It’s 2:00 a.m.”

“I know,” he said. “I need to talk to Abby.”

“She’s asleep.”

“Abby!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. That’d wake her up.

“I’ll go get her,” Kane said, rubbing his eyes as he staggered through the entryway into the living room. Bellamy followed behind him, waiting downstairs while Kane staggered up to the second floor. He heard the bedroom door open and close, followed by the muffled sounds of conversation. Kane was probably having to convince the woman to come down and talk to him. Not that Bellamy could really blame her. 2:00 a.m. and everything. Plus, their last conversation hadn’t exactly been friendly.

When Abby did come downstairs, she had a floor-length robe tied around her waist. Looked like real silk. His mom had imitation silk robes. “What’s going on, Bellamy?” she asked him. “It’s late.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, so you can come to my house, but I can’t come to yours?”

Yeah, maybe it was hypocritical, but right now, that didn’t really matter. “Look, whatever this issue is between us, wherever it started . . . we need to clear it up,” he told her. “Because it’s no good for Clarke.” That was his priority. He could suck it up and act nice with Abby Griffin, maybe even apologize to her if that was what it took. As long as it made things easier for his girlfriend. “Now I’m not an idiot, contrary to what you might believe,” he went on. “I know you think I got into her head about med school, soured her opinion on it. But I didn’t. She made that decision all on her own. And you’re her mother, so you should respect it.”

“I’m trying to,” Abby insisted, “but I think she’s making a mistake.”

“Then think that if you want. It doesn’t mean you gotta say it.”

“Well, if I don’t, then who’s going to?” she snapped at him. “You?”

“No.”

She grunted. “Of course not.”

“Because I think she’s doing the right thing,” he said. “She knows what’s best for her; she knows what she wants.”

Abby crossed her arms over her chest and locked eyes with him. “What she _wants_ and what she _should want_ aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

Well, that was one hell of a loaded statement, wasn’t it? He understood the subtext immediately, and to be honest . . . it sucked. “We’re not talkin’ about med school anymore, are we?” he said. No, they weren’t, because Clarke wanted _him_. She’d always wanted him, but Abby had always thought that was a mistake. “Look, just tell me,” he practically begged her. “Tell me what I did to make you hate me so much. Because I know I’m not the best guy who ever lived, but I’m not the worst.” The best guys in the world wouldn’t have just stood back and let all that shit at UCF happen. The best guys would have done something right in that moment to stop it. The best guys had better jobs than he did and actual educations that had led them to those jobs. But that didn’t mean he was a total loser or a lost cause. He was always trying to be better. “I’m doing everything I can to be a good boyfriend and to be a good father,” he told her. “What else do I have to do?”

“Bellamy . . .” For a second, it looked like there were tears in her eyes. But she blinked, and then they were gone. “It’s complicated.”

“So explain it to me.”

“I can’t. But when you’re a parent, you’ll understand.”

“No, I won’t,” he argued. “If there’s somebody out there, and he treats my daughter right and makes her happy, then I’ll be happy for her. Simple as that.” There was nothing complicated about it. She was just making an excuse, because she didn’t want to admit that she was still holding a grudge against him from all those years ago. But he wasn’t some sex-obsessed high school senior anymore; he was a man who was in love with her daughter. Why couldn’t she just accept that?

“I just . . . I don’t want her to get hurt,” Abby said, her voice a bit shaky.

“I would never hurt her,” he said. “Come on, you know that. You may not like me, but you know that.”

Throwing her hands in the air, flapping them against her sides, she said, “What do you want me to do?”

“Just try,” he pleaded with her. “ _Try_ to change your opinion of me, please.” The likelihood of that happening at this point, though, was small, and he knew it. So he tacked on, “But if that’s not possible, then fine. I can deal with it. But don’t take it out on Clarke. She’s pregnant, and she needs you now more than ever.” He waited for a response, but when he got none, he just shook his head, disappointed that this probably hadn’t done any good. Abby would lie awake the rest of the night, thinking about things, and so would he.

As he turned to leave, she said, “Bellamy.” And slowly, he turned back around, bracing himself for some kind of parting shot. But it never came. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry.”

He really had no idea what she was apologizing for. She’d spewed so much crap about him that it was hard telling. But it didn’t really matter, because hearing those words from Abby was a major step for him. She’d never even come close to saying it before.

“Don’t apologize to me,” he told her. “Apologize to Clarke.”

Abby inhaled shakily, lowered her head, and gulped. She looked . . . pretty upset. A different kind of upset than she’d been the night he’d brought her daughter home drunk. These feelings, _whatever_ she was feeling, ran deeper.

He didn’t want to be gone for too long, so he didn’t stay. He headed home mere minutes after showing up, and when he walked in the front door, he’d only just gotten his coat and shoes off when he heard Clarke’s voice calling to him from upstairs.

“Bellamy?”

Dammit, she wasn’t supposed to wake up without him there.

But suddenly, her voice got louder. “Bellamy!”

She sounded scared, so he took the stairs two at a time and was back up in the bedroom in a matter of seconds. She was halfway sitting up in the bed, looking all around the room for him. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he said, rushing to her side. “What’s wrong?”

She took one look at him, reached out to touch his face, and flung her arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hugging her. “Sorry, I just . . . I went out to run an errand. I should’ve told you I was going.” He hadn’t meant to alarm her, but he could see why it had. Slowly pulling back a bit, he kept his arms around her and asked, “Are you okay?”

Somehow, even though he couldn’t see them in the darkness, he knew she had a few tears falling. She must have woken up from a bad dream or something. “Please don’t leave me,” she whimpered, hugging him again. And it was a tight hug, too, the kind where she balled the whole back of his shirt up in her hands.

“I’m right here,” he breathed into her ear, scooping more of her into his arms, practically into his lap. And just to reassure her, he said it again. “I’m right here.” He wasn’t going anywhere.


	39. Chapter 39

_Chapter 39_

Working at Eligius meant that Clarke had to be pretty social, whether she felt like it or not. The sum of her paycheck was dependent on tips, after all. When the customers were rude, drunk, obnoxious, or all of the above, it was a pain in the ass to have to serve them. But when they were just nice and normal, it was fine. It gave her the chance to chat with some people she used to go to school with, too, but had lost touch with over the years. Some of them were in college, like her, some had dropped out, and some had never gone. Most of them hadn’t started families yet, but a few had.

“Thanks, Clarke,” one of her fellow former cheerleaders said sweetly as she laid a basket of chili fries down in front of her.

“You’re welcome,” Clarke replied.

“How’s the little one?”

She’d gotten used to people asking about the baby, even if they were people she hadn’t talked to in years. “Oh, she’s getting livelier every day,” she said, turning her back to get to work on cleaning some of those glasses. She had a system that allowed her to go really fast. One dunk in the soapy water for three seconds. Then a rinse for three more seconds after that.

In the midst of setting glasses on the drying rack, she heard someone approach the bar, so she spun around as she was saying, “Hi, what can I . . .” But she trailed off when she came face to face with someone who never ventured into the Eligius Bar & Grill: her mom. “. . . get for you,” she finished, abandoning the question altogether since her mom clearly wasn’t just there for something to eat or drink. “What’re you doing here?”

Without hesitation, her mom replied, “We need to talk.”

Talking sounded . . . necessary, but involved, and Clarke wasn’t sure she could handle that right now. “I’m working,” she said, scampering out from behind the bar in an effort to look busier than she actually was. She was one of only two servers on duty, the other being a semi-new hire named Carmen who was still learning the ropes. But the place wasn’t exactly packed, and together, they had things under control. Luckily, though, there was still a recently vacated table with plenty of dirty dishes on it that needed to be picked up, so she got to work on that.

“Can’t you just spare a minute?” her mom asked.

“No.” She piled the plates on the underside of her forearm and used her free hand to pick up the glasses.

“Clarke . . .”

“Mom, I can’t,” she insisted. “I already take more breaks than everyone else on account of my bladder being the size of a pea. So just get out of my way and let me do my . . .” She’d only taken one step back in the direction of the counter when the precariously balanced plates fell off her arm and shattered on the floor. “Great,” she grumbled. “See, you’re frazzling me.”

The other server quickly came over and said, “I got it.”

“No, you don’t have to.”

“Clarke, it’s fine,” Carmen assured her. “Just go sit down.”

Sighing, feeling like she _couldn’t_ focus on work now despite how hard she was trying to, Clarke set the dirty glasses back down on the table and thanked Carmen for cleaning up her mess. She hadn’t meant to make more work for the girl, but she knew that, the bigger her bump became, the more the people she worked with were going to assume she needed help.

Clarke sulked over to an empty table, the one Bellamy liked to sit at whenever he came in, and slid into the booth. Her mother joined her, and they sat in awkward, uncomfortable silence together for what felt like an eternity until Clarke finally asked her, “Did Kane coax you into this?” She could just picture him morphing from boyfriend into therapist as he gave her advice on how to handle things.

“No,” her mom said.

“So you decided to come see me all on your own?”

Once again, her mother repeated the same answer. “No.”

“Then who . . .” She didn’t finish the question, because that pretty much left one option. “Bellamy?”

Her mom nodded slowly. “He really does love you.”

Well . . . at least they could agree on that much. “I love him, too,” she said. Leave it to him to take matters into his own hands, even though dealing with her mom was never a pleasant experience for him.

“I know,” Abby said. “I know you do. I just . . .” She sighed heavily, looking down at the table before lifting her face again. “Clarke, I’m no good at this,” she fretted. “I’m a doctor; I like it when things are under my control.”

“Including me,” Clarke said.

Swallowing hard, her mom admitted, “Yes. And I know it sounds horrible to say that, but I like feeling like I have some influence over your life and the decisions you make.”

Clarke averted her eyes, trying not to dwell too hard on that influence.

“But I don’t have that anymore,’ her mom said. “And it’s a hard pill to swallow. Because you’re my little girl, you know? You always will be. But nowadays, you’re so grown up. I mean, you’re gonna make a grandma out of me.”

Clarke managed a small smile, nothing too noticeable, but . . . enough to let her guard down.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately,” her mother apologized, and it _sounded_ pretty sincere. A little scripted, maybe, but everyone rehearsed apologies now and then. “I know it’s driven a wedge in between us, and I—I don’t want that. That’s the last thing I want. Because I wanna be a part of your life, and I wanna be a part of your daughter’s life and--”

“Avery,” Clarke cut in.

“What?”

“Her name,” she clarified. “It’s Avery.”

An unusually soft smile appeared on her mom’s face, and like everyone else who heard the name for the first time, she tested it out by saying it. “Avery. That’s a beautiful name.”

Clarke thought about telling her that Bellamy had been the one to pick it out, but . . . maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

“I wanna be there for you and for Avery,” her mom reaffirmed. “I don’t want to push you so hard that I push you away.”

“Well, that’s what you’ve been doing,” Clarke told her.

“I know. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

Hearing the words felt . . . strange. But not in a bad way. Her mom so rarely apologized because she so rarely admitted that she was wrong about anything. And in terms of her career, she hardly ever was. But when it came to family life, she made mistakes sometimes. They all did.

“It’s not like I want this, either, for there to be some chasm between us,” Clarke said. “I mean . . . I’m gonna be a mom, Mom. I need you.” There were so many things she was clueless about, advice that her apps couldn’t give her. So she needed to be able to go to the woman who’d raised her and ask questions; she needed their relationship to be a better one. “So . . . I’m willing to move forward from here,” she decided, phrasing it carefully, because she didn’t want to make it seem like the slate was totally wiped clean between them yet.

“Really?” Tears shot to her mother’s eyes.

“Yes. But on two conditions,” she added sternly. “First of all, the med school thing . . . I don’t wanna hear about it. I’ve made my decision, and whether I change my mind someday and decide to go or end up doing something completely different with my life, then that’ll be my decision, too. Not yours.”

Her mom thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. “I understand.”

“And second . . . Bellamy.” To be honest, she could endure more lectures about med school if she had to, but she simply could not allow the guy she loved to have to put up with so much judgement anymore. “You _have_ to be nicer to him,” she stipulated. “And that includes not being passive-aggressive, which I know is hard for you.”

Her mom sighed, didn’t deny that claim, and said, “I’ll work on it.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Clarke was . . . a little bit skeptical. But she knew her mom well enough to know that this wasn’t an act. And if it was, then Clarke would readily remind her about the conditions she’d agreed to today. If she wanted to be a part of her granddaughter’s life, she was going to have to make some changes. “Okay,” Clarke said, cautiously optimistic about where this could lead them now. If nothing else, it was a step in the right direction.

“Okay,” her mom echoed quietly, setting her hands on the table, palm side facing up. Clarke reached across and set her hands within them, hoping that this conversation or agreement or whatever it was would hold up over time. She needed it to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Construction was a dirty job. Bellamy always felt like he had to shower when he got home, even if he’d already showered that morning. It was different than all those football practices he used to have, where he’d mainly just work up a sweat and smell awful afterwards. This job covered his hands in dirt and grime by the end of the day. Very blue collar stuff.

Most of the time, his after-work shower was something he did alone. Sometimes Clarke wasn’t even home at that point yet, but when she was, he always hoped she’d feel frisky enough to join him. So when the door to the shower slid open and she stepped in completely naked, his cock twitched with excitement. “Whoa,” he said as she encircled her arms around him from behind. “Nice surprise. What’d I do to earn this?”

“Mmm, so much,” she purred, getting herself as close to him as she could. Her round belly got in the way a bit, but it didn’t prevent her from pressing her breasts to his back or from kissing his shoulder blades.

He really wasn’t sure if he’d done something specific or if she just felt like fucking, but it didn’t matter. Clearly she was in the mood for some shower sex, and he was more than willing to give that to her.

Turning around, he soaked in the sight of her gorgeous body, completely undeterred by the stretch marks or the way her belly button had kind of popped out these days. There were so many changes happening to her that she was self-conscious about, but he didn’t care. Whether she was twenty-five weeks pregnant or fit into her cheerleading uniform again, he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Look at you,” he said, putting his hands on her waist.

“No, look at _you_.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back underneath the water, far enough that it could pour down on her hair, too. “You are my boyfriend,” she said, pressing him back against the shower wall, “and you are so, so amazing.” She kissed him passionately, hands all over him, and her touch heated him up more than that water did. He touched her, too, smoothing his hands up and down her sides and around back of her to give her ass a good squeeze.

He wasn’t sure what they were going to end up doing, but when her fingers snaked down in between them to fondle his balls, he had a pretty good idea that she might decide to either jack him off or go down on him. And although he wasn’t opposed to that, he knew this wasn’t the most comfortable location for her to do that. Being on her knees on the shower floor would hurt, and besides . . . he wanted to make her feel good, too.

He moved so that he was the one behind her, and she braced her hands against the shower wall, instinctively bending forward a bit. But he coiled his arm around her, right underneath her breasts, and lifted her back up again. With her standing up like that, he was able to kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder. God, she tasted so good.

She moaned, circling her hips around, rubbing her ass against his groin. He had a full-on boner going at this point, and he wondered if she took delight in it, knowing that she could do this to him, that she could get such a reaction.

Keeping one hand on her hip, he let the other reach upward and squeeze her left breast. Her nipple pebbled against the palm of his hand, and she arched her back to press up into his touch. The wet strands of her hair stuck to the side of his face as he breathed into her ear.

“Oh, make love to me, Bellamy,” she moaned, her words spilling out as quickly as that water was spilling down on them.

“Make love, huh?” he said, liking the terminology. Whether they went at it like bunnies or drew it out and made it sweet and romantic, sex with Clarke was always all about love.

He smoothed his hand on her hip around the underside of her belly, trying to reach in between her legs. But that wasn’t so easy to do anymore, so he had to bend his knees a bit to get a better angle. She spread her legs apart a little further, and he was able to give her slit a few good strokes. It was hard to tell how much wetness was the water and how much was just her, so he inserted his middle finger into her, pumping it in and out a few times, fingering her just enough to make sure that she was as aroused as he was.

“Oh, yeah,” she whispered, splaying her hands against the wall. “Oh, Bellamy . . .”

Whenever she said his name during sex, it really spurred him on, so he withdrew his hand and stood up straighter again so he could slide his erect cock up the crack of her ass. Again, she arched her back, and he kept his right arm wrapped around her heavy breasts, just holding them and squeezing as he rubbed himself against her.

The water was cooling off a bit, but he didn’t bother to adjust it. Their bodies were hot.

She pushed her hips back and started to bend forward again, but he pulled her back up and said, “No, stay up here. Stay here.” He couldn’t mold his body into hers when they were in bed anymore, at least not when he was on top of her. But right now, he could. So he matched the spread of his legs to hers, bent his knees again, and nudged the head of his cock against her entrance. The teasing got a low growl out of her, and when he couldn’t hold off any longer, Bellamy pressed up and inward, burying himself in her from behind.

“Oh . . .” she gasped, craning her neck back. Her eyes were closed, and her face was contorted in pure pleasure.

_Oh, fuck_ , he thought as his own eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Every single time he and Clarke joined like this, he had to fight the urge to cum right away. There was no way he was going to let this be over so soon, though, so he grabbed hold of her hips with both hands and started thrusting. _Slowly_. He wanted to feel her tight, wet pussy on every inch of his cock, pulling him deeper.

He latched his lips onto the side of her neck to kiss her while he rolled his hips into her, and she reached up with one arm to cup the back of his head and shove her fingers into his hair. Whenever his hips pressed forward, hers pushed backward, and they moved together as easily and fluidly as the water streaming down on them.

_Make her cum_ , Bellamy told himself, even as his balls started to tighten and he felt himself getting closer. Clarke was so good to him sneaking into the shower like this. She deserved to feel adored.

Desperate to get her teetering over that same edge that he was, he massaged his hands over every part of her body he could reach. Her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts. Nothing was off limits, so he touched her all over. And she loved it. All sorts of shuddering moans flew out of her mouth, and her hips stilled as the onslaught of physical sensation overwhelmed her. He pressed himself in so far that he could just grind against her, and it felt so fucking good, he just knew he was going to lose it.

Fortunately for him, she did, too. It happened suddenly, but he felt her pussy clamp down on his cock as she came with a loud, “Uh!” She had to hold onto the slippery shower wall for support, so he kept his arms wrapped around her tightly to keep her standing. Seeing her cum, _feeling_ it, was all it took for him to cum, too, and he let out a low, guttural groan as he spilled himself inside her. Her orgasm seemed to last a little longer than his did, but he stayed inside her while she rode it out, and even when they were both done, he didn’t pull out just yet. He wanted to stay with her for a little while longer, soaked and spent and completely happy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Clarke mumbled as she got situated on the couch. She had to prop a pillow behind her back to feel comfortable.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” Murphy assured her and Bellamy both as he fiddled around with his camera. He’d set it up on a tripod and was going to be sitting right beside it so that he’d be eye level when interviewing them.

When Clarke grimaced slightly and started to move around, Bellamy asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just the normal aches and pains,” she replied. By now, it was a miracle if she ever had a day where she felt completely comfortable the whole time.

“I won’t stay too long, I promise,” Murphy said while he appeared to be fiddling around with the zoom on his camera. “I just wanna _start_ collecting interview footage.”

“You really think people are gonna wanna watch this?” Clarke asked, still skeptical about the whole documentary thing.

On the other hand, Murphy seemed completely confident. “Oh, yeah.”

“But I looked up that Shane Dawson guy,” she said. “ He makes films about other YouTubers. They’re, like, famous people.”

“So?”

“We aren’t famous.” If Murphy did end up posting this series and it bombed with his subscribers, she was going to feel awful. This was his source of income, after all.

“I’m small town famous,” Bellamy declared.

“We’re just ordinary people, though,” she said.

“I know,” Bellamy said. “But you’re _extra_ ordinarily pretty. Oh, yeah, that was a good one.”

“Did you get that on film?” she asked Murphy, hoping that Bellamy’s cheesiness would be documented for all eternity.

“Yeah, I did, actually.” Murphy took his seat next to the camera, looking like he was about to begin.

“Good,” Bellamy said. “‘cause that was smooth. You gotta admit, that was smooth. Every now and then, I come up with a really good line.”

“Every now and then,” she agreed, smiling at him. Very few men managed to be smoking hot while being adorably cute, but for Bellamy, it seemed like it was second nature.

“Alright, let’s go ahead and start in,” Murphy said. “You wanna introduce yourselves?”

Bellamy didn’t hesitate. “I’m Bellamy Blake.”

“And I’m Clarke Griffin,” she said, waving unsurely to the camera.

“What is that?” Bellamy teased, mimicking her wave.

“What? I’m waving. I’m waving to the viewers,” she said, knowing she must have looked like an idiot. “If there are any.”

“There will be, trust me,” Murphy promised. “Alright, so you guys have been popping up in a lot of my videos lately, and people wanna know more about you. So today we’re just gonna start peeling back the layers, finding out the whole story of Bellamy and Clarke.”

“Jesus,” Bellamy swore. “What is this, like therapy?”

“Seriously,” Clarke said. All this talk of peeling back the layers and finding out the whole story . . . that sounded kind of daunting.

“No, we’re just talking,” Murphy assured them. “Imagine the camera’s not even here.”

_Easier said than done_ , Clarke thought. It had a blinking red light on it to signal that it was recording.

“So why don’t you start by telling us how you guys met,” Murphy suggested.

They exchanged a glance, and Clarke wasn’t really sure what to say. Because the truth was, she didn’t actually remember meeting Bellamy. Her whole first day at Arkadia high school had been a blur. “Um . . . well . . .” she said.

“Uh, Clarke moved here to Arkadia my junior year,” Bellamy answered.

“Right. And I was a freshman. In high school.”

“Yeah, and I played football, and she was a cheerleader, so . . .” He trailed off and shrugged. “The story writes itself.”

“But you guys didn’t date right away, correct?” Murphy asked.

“No, we waited until the next year to start dating,” she said.

“And how’d that start?”

She flashed back to the locker room, that fateful conversation where she’d offered up her virginity to Bellamy, and that was a story she didn’t exactly want to make public on YouTube. “It just started,” she responded vaguely.

But Murphy came to the correct conclusion anyway. “Oh, sex. I see,” he said. “So after the sex started, then you guys actually developed real feelings for each other.”

“Yeah.” Clarke’s heart still skipped a beat when she thought back to those early days and how crushed out she’d been on him.

“We fell in love,” Bellamy said, putting his arm around her.

“But I don’t think either one of us _knew_ it was love at the time,” she added on.

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just knew I liked you a lot.”

“And I liked you.” She smiled at him.

“Yeah, too bad your mom didn’t,” he mumbled.

“Ooh, drama,” Murphy said, leaning forward, his interest piqued. “Okay, what was that about? How’d that start up?”

“She just . . .” Clarke sighed, not sure how to explain all that without sounding like she was dragging her mom through the mud. “She was very protective,” she said. “Over-protective at times. She tried everything in her power to keep us apart.”

“But it didn’t work,” Murphy said, motioning between the two of them.

“Of course not.” Bellamy smirked and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“So what kind of stuff did she do?” Murphy asked. “Was it just the typical grounding or what?”

“Oh, there was so much,” Clarke recalled. She thought about it, trying to remember everything, and asked Bellamy, “What do you think? What was her most drastic tactic?”

“Well . . .” He scratched the back of his neck and cringed. “The dinner was--”

“Oh, the dinner,” she cut him off.

“What?” Murphy made a face. “She invited you over for dinner?”

“No, she’d already forbid me from coming over at all at that point,” Bellamy informed him.

“She invited . . . someone else,” Clarke said as the entire awkward memory came back to her.

****

_This schedule sucked. Clarke didn’t need to stay after school to get her homework done. She got most of it done during study hall, and anything she didn’t finish was something she could easily knock out at home. But her mom and dad had mandated that she stay after school every day until 5:00 in the library. And because she was in the library, that meant Bellamy couldn’t be in the library. She’d spotted him after school these past couple days with Monty, which probably meant that he was getting tutored again. But they had to go somewhere else to work._

 _Clarke got home at 5:15—that was another part of this new schedule. She had to come straight home from school no matter what, and if she was ever late, she’d get grounded._ Grounded. _Like she was in fucking middle school or something. When she walked in the door, she was both tired and cranky, and her plan was to head straight upstairs so that she didn’t have to engage in any interaction with her mom. But as she was taking off her shoes, she heard voices coming from the kitchen. The female one belonged to her mother, but the male one wasn’t her dad. It sure did sound familiar, though._

_Letting her backpack fall to the floor, Clarke ventured through the entryway and into the kitchen, surprised to see none other than her ex-boyfriend standing at the counter with her mom, helping her toss a salad. “Wells?” she spat._

_He smiled at her sheepishly and said, “Hey, Clarke.”_

_She was so shocked to see him that she couldn’t even act polite. “What’re you doing here?”_

_He motioned to Abby and said, “Your mom invited me.”_

Oh my god, _she thought, giving her mom a warning look. She was really going this far, wasn’t she? Inviting her ex-boyfriend to come by the house? Having him help with dinner? This was a set-up, no doubt about it._

_“I bumped into Wells on my way home from work,” her mom said, acting all innocent, “and I just thought it’d be nice to have him over for dinner. It’s been so long.”_

_“Mmm-hmm.” It’d been so long because they weren’t together anymore. They said hi to each other in the hallway and compared notes for classes once in a while, but that was the full extent of their interaction these days. Clarke couldn’t very well kick him out, though, without seeming like a total bitch, so she desperately hoped her father was home so she could get him to do it. “Is Dad around?” she asked._

_“No,” her mom replied._

_Of course he wasn’t. This was all deliberate. Had to be. Her mom had purposefully picked a day when she knew her dad would be working extra late, just so he wasn’t around to possibly, by some miracle, object to this._

_“Go ahead and wash up,” her mom told her. “We’re almost ready.”_

Oh god. _Her stomach clenched at the thought of going through with this. What an awkward little charade this was going to be. And not just for the two of them, but for Wells. He hadn’t asked to get caught up in their drama._

_Clarke sulked into the downstairs bathroom—well, the nearest one—and washed her hands, looking at her expression in the mirror as she did so. She looked infuriated. Wells had to be able to notice it. But she wasn’t mad at him._

_On her way out of the bathroom, she bumped into her ex, who quickly offered up an explanation as to why he was there. “Hey, um . . . sorry about all this,” he said. “I didn’t wanna be rude when she invited me.”_

_“No, that’s okay,” she assured him. “You’re welcome here anytime.” Under different circumstances, it’d actually be kind of nice to sit down with him and catch up. They ran in different social circles, so they probably had a lot to catch up on._

_Her mom was in full on Stepford mode when she and Wells came back out to the kitchen. The table was set way too extravagantly for a normal meal, and she’d brought out the ‘company plates.’ Which differed from the normal plates in that they were so damn expensive. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” she said in appreciation of her own cooking. When Clarke started to sit down on one side of the table, she said, “Oh, no, you two can sit over there,” and motioned to the other side, where two plates already had salads and breadsticks on them. The main course was still covered up but smelled like lasagna._

_“Maybe we should invite Mr. Jaha before we eat,” Clarke suggested as she walked around to the other side of the table. Then maybe her mom could get a taste of her own medicine. Being set up for dinner with another guy while her significant other was elsewhere? She wouldn’t think it was so fun when it was happening to her._

_“I’m sure he’s busy,” her mom said._

_“Wells was probably busy, too,” she pointed out, “before you dragged him here.”_

_Her mother gave her a warning look as they all took their seats. “Let’s just have a nice dinner, okay?” she said._

Whatever, _Clarke thought, rolling her eyes inwardly. It wouldn’t be nice. There was so much tension simmering beneath the surface. Even if they did manage to produce some viable conversation, it was going to be awkward no matter what._

_It didn’t take long for the questions to start up. They’d each only taken a few bites when her mom cleared her throat and inquired, “So, Wells, what have you been up to this year?”_

_“Just the usual,” he replied. “Studying, getting ready for the ACT next year.”_

You’re already ready, _Clarke thought. Last year, they’d both taken it for free after their school had selected them to take part in some high-level learning initiative. She’d scored well enough to get accepted into most colleges, but Wells had done even better than her._

_“Any ideas on where you want to go to college?” her mom asked. The tone of her voice was so much nicer than it was when she spoke to Bellamy._

_“I’m not sure yet,” Wells said, “but I’m not gonna rule out trying for the Ivy League.”_

_Oh, yeah, Harvard or Yale or Princeton . . . any place like that would be happy to have Wells Jaha on their campus. Plus, since his dad was a professor, he could totally afford it._

_“That’s great,” her mom said. “I’m sure you’ll get accepted with grades like yours.”_

_He shrugged modestly. “We’ll see.”_

_“I have faith in you,” Clarke’s mom continued on. “And I think it’s great that you make your education such a high priority.”_

_Clarke set her fork down, even less hungry now than she’d been a minute ago. Was that a subtle jab at Bellamy? Because it sure sounded like it._

_“Well, I’m not athletic,” Wells said, “so it’s pretty much my only avenue to pursue in life.”_

_“Your mind will take you farther in life than anything else will, I promise,” Abby said._

_Clarke shot her an annoyed look. Really, was this necessary? It was bad enough she’d arranged this little dinner, but did she have to dog on her boyfriend throughout it?_

_Her mom ignored the look and continued speaking only to their dinner guest. “And what else has been going on in your life?” she questioned. “Do you have a new girlfriend?”_

_“Mom!” Clarke hissed. That kind of thing was personal._

_“It’s just a question,” she said._

_Wells laughed nervously. “No,” he answered. “No new girlfriend.”_

Oh, here we go, _Clarke thought, rubbing her forehead anxiously. That was exactly the answer her mom had been hoping for. Now, she was going to pounce._

_“You know, I always assumed the two of you would get back together someday,” she said._

_“Oh my god,” Clarke groaned. “Please, Mom . . .”_

_“What? I’m not saying anything wrong.”_

_“This is embarrassing.”_

_Her mom would not drop the act, though. She just kept with it. “I always thought you two complemented each other so well. That’s all,” she said._

_“Oh, that’s all, huh? That’s_ all?” _Clarke bellowed._

_“Yes.”_

_No, that wasn’t all. Not by a long shot. This whole dinner was motivated by . . . fear. Fear of the freedom that Bellamy represented. Fear of how close he and Clarke had become. Wells, on the other hand, was the safe option. He was wholesome and predictable and stable. And unfortunately, kind of boring._

_“Mrs. Griffin, I appreciate everything you’re saying,” he said, managing to maintain his manners when neither one of his hosts was, “but . . . I think Clarke and I have both enjoyed just being friends this year.”_

_“Thank you,” Clarke told him. She couldn’t have said it better herself._

_“And I think that’s great,” her mom said, sounding as if she were backing off a little. But when she tacked on, “But if that changes, just keep in mind, she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”_

_“What?” Clarke erupted. “Yes, I do!”_

_“Not anymore.”_

_“Yes, I_ do, _Mom,” she insisted. “Just because you’ve got all the teachers monitoring us like hawks, that doesn’t mean he’s not my boyfriend anymore.” Valentine’s Day was coming up, and prom would happen not long after that. She was going to that dance with Bellamy. One way or another._

_“You know, I think I’m just gonna go,” Wells said, pushing his chair back as he stood up._

_“No, you can stay,” her mom said._

_“He doesn’t wanna stay,” Clarke snapped. “He doesn’t wanna be here. He only came because he’s too nice to say no.”_

_“Clarke, you need to stop.”_

_“No,_ you _need to stop!” she roared. “This is ridiculous!” Their arguing quickly escalated to the point where neither one of them said anything to Wells as he headed out._

_Clarke managed to collect herself enough to run outside after her ex and stop him just as he was about to get into his car. “Wells!” she shouted, her heart pounding as she stopped in front of him. She was just so worked up and so pissed about what was happening. “I’m really sorry about all of that,” she told him apologetically. “I had no idea . . .”_

_“It’s okay, Clarke,” he said. “I pretty much figured she was on a matchmaking mission. A lot of people are talking about it.”_

Of course they are, _Clarke thought bitterly. Bellamy may not have had money to his name, but he did have a status in that town. People paid attention to his life. And normally, they didn’t pay attention to hers, but she was a part of his life now. Besides, the teachers probably talked about it, and surely her mom had told that dreadful Callie woman. So it wasn’t a surprise that gossip had gotten around._

_“I didn’t realize it’d gotten so bad between you two,” Wells said sympathetically._

_“Lately, it’s been the worst,” Clarke said sadly. “She just . . . doesn’t approve.”_

_Wells didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but when he did, it wasn’t what she expected to hear. “Any reason why she should?”_

_Clarke frowned. “What do you mean?”_

_“Well, you gotta admit, you’ve changed a lot this year.”_

_She’d lost her virginity and gotten a little more drunk a couple more times. Not that big of a deal. “Yeah, but . . . I’m still me,” she argued._

_“I know,” he said. “But she worries about you.”_

_It was so incredibly weird to have someone her own age defending her mom, especially when it seemed so obvious to her that her mom was going out of her way to blow things out of proportion. “Wow, I had no idea you were on the anti-Bellamy bandwagon, too,” she growled accusatorily._

_“I’m not,” Wells said. “I like the guy. He’s always been decent to me, and I see what he’s done for guys like Jasper, and I respect that.”_

_Clarke’s frown intensified as she struggled to understand why on earth he would empathize with her mom more than her then._

_“But where is this gonna end up for you, Clarke?” he wondered out loud. “He’s gonna go to college, and you’re gonna be stuck here.”_

_She felt her frown slowly dissolve, and a sad, downcast expression took its place._

_“Just . . . just be careful about how deep you end up with him, alright?” Wells urged her. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”_

I’m not going to, _she thought. But dammit, when Wells put it like that, she couldn’t even be mad at him. He was just trying to look out for her in his own ex-boyfriend/kept-at-a-distance kind of way._

_“I’ll be fine,” she told him. “I promise.”_

****

Murphy had an almost gleeful look in his eyes when Clarke finished the dreadful dinner story. It was like he knew he’d just gotten a juicy little anecdote. “Wow,” he said. “That’s, uh . . .”

“Desperate. Ridiculous. Over-the-top,” Clarke filled in for him. “But it didn’t matter. In the end, nothing could keep us apart.”

“Not even five years,” Bellamy said, sounding sort of . . . proud that even time hadn’t stopped them from getting back together.

“You wanna hear about that part now,” Clarke offered Murphy, “the five-year time jump?”

“Yeah, we ended up breaking up at the end of the year,” Bellamy said, “which was a mutual thing.”

“Right. And we both knew it was coming.” Still hadn’t been easy, though. And looking back, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if they’d decided to stay together.

“But then all these years later . . .” Bellamy trailed off, smiling at her.

“Wait, hold up,” Murphy said. “Before we get to that, let’s cover all the stuff in between.”

_In-between?_ Clarke thought, tensing up a bit. “That stuff’s not as important,” she said, eager to talk about now. Because now, things were good.

“Are you sure about that?” Murphy said, pointing to her stomach.

She looked down at her ever-expanding bump, well aware just how important it was. “Okay,” she acknowledged, “you got me there.”


	40. Chapter 40

_Chapter 40_

When Clarke got done with work, she pretty much just wanted to get home. Having a job where she had to be on her feet so much sucked, especially with her feet and ankles becoming increasingly swollen—she’d caved and gone up a shoe size. Plus, her back ended up aching more days than it didn’t. Luckily, Diyoza was very understanding and often cut Clarke’s shifts short. However, even a short shift didn’t allow her to escape Arkadia high school’s trashiest homecoming queen in recent memory. Bellamy’s ex-girlfriend seemed to be hanging out a lot there lately.

“Hey, Clarke!” she called, bounding outside after Clarke as she was leaving.

Cringing, Clarke slowly turned around. “Hi . . . Bree.” Whenever this airhead came in, Clarke always avoided her and asked whoever else was working to serve her.

“You look so big!” Bree exclaimed.

What the hell? Who said that? Even though she was obviously pregnant, it didn’t exactly feel like a compliment. Clarke wasn’t sure how to respond, so she just said, “Your head looks so big.”

“Really?” Bree touched her cheeks. “Huh. I only got surgery on boobs.”

“No, I meant big as in . . . big head,” Clarke attempted to clarify. “Like conceited.”

Bree tilted her head to the side, looking perplex. “What do you mean?”

“But oblivious will do. Never mind,” Clarke said, quickly determining that Bree’s vocabulary wasn’t the greatest. Oh, well. Sometimes making fun of people when you knew the insults were just going right over their head was great. “What’s up?” she asked impatiently, ready to get this conversation over with so she could get home.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought I’d say hi,” Bree said. “How’s everything? How’s . . . Bellamy?”

_And there it is_ , Clarke thought, forcing a smile. “He’s good.”

“Yeah? He looks good.”

_So she’s been looking at him_ , Clarke deduced. Wasn’t surprising. Lots of girls in Arkadia did. She’d learned not to feel threatened by it a long time ago.

“I think about him sometimes,” Bree confessed, twirling her long blonde hair around her finger.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

Bree actually had the audacity to blush, and then her whole face lit up with excitement. “Hey, you know, we should hang out sometime,” she proposed. “The three of us.”

That idea was just so completely ludicrous that Clarke couldn’t keep her fake smile in place anymore. “Bree. You do remember that you once keyed the word _slut_ into my car, don’t you?”

“Oh, that was like twenty years ago.”

“Okay, math is clearly not your strong suit,” Clarke mumbled. Another insult that just went right over Bree’s simple head. “Look, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t want anything to do with me. You’re just thirsty for my man, who is in fact _mine_.”

Bree’s perky little attitude immediately fell by the wayside, and she crossed her arms over her chest, shifting back into that bitchy persona Clarke recalled so well. “For now,” she snarled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well . . .” Bree nodded her head towards Clarke’s stomach. “It’s not really his baby, right? I mean, that’s what I’ve heard. It belongs to some other guy?”

Clarke tensed, unused to someone asking her about that. “That’s none of your business,” she said. Sure, people knew, and she knew that people knew. But with that knowledge came some real possibilities for slut-shaming, or for making it seem like Bellamy wasn’t going to be as much of a father as Finn was.

“It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Bree said. “I just think it’s kind of unfair to tie Bellamy down with all that responsibility. He could do whatever he wants if it wasn’t for you.”

Clarke wanted to have a snappy comeback, but she had to absorb that for a couple seconds. But once she had, she metaphorically picked herself up and dished the other girl’s pettiness right back to her. “Well, he doesn’t wanna do you, Bree,” she snapped. “So get your jealousy under control. It looks worse on you than your fake boobs do.”

Bree gasped in outrage, and Clarke spun and stomped off to her car, even more eager to get home now than she had been when she’d ended her shift a couple minutes ago.

The short drive home felt kind of endless, mostly because she was exhausted. She could have been pissed off, too, but she decided not to waste any more energy on Bree. She’d always been jealous of Clarke’s relationship with Bellamy, and she’d always resented that she’d lost her claim on him because of it. And she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

When she got home, she noticed that Bellamy’s vehicle was out front, but he wasn’t downstairs. She heard movement on the second floor, so she headed up, already talking. “Bellamy, you’re never gonna believe who I ran into today,” she said, taking off her jacket and draping it over the railing. “Remember your old non-girlfriend Bree? Well, apparently her favorite pastime is still being a bitch, because do you know what she said to me?” Right as she was in the midst of peeling off her shirt, she reached the top step and collided with . . . a tall body. Taller than her boyfriend “ _Oh_ my god!” she exclaimed, pulling her shirt back down. “You’re not Bellamy.” This guy had longer hair pulled back into a half-ponytail, and he was wearing a Vanilla Ice shirt.

“Roan,” he said in a husky voice. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Roan.” She recognized that name. “You’re the work friend.”

“That’d be me.”

Was Bellamy having bro-time, then? Did she interrupt that?

Peeking his head out of the room that would become the nursery, Bellamy said, “Hey, babe, what’re you doin’ home already?”

“My boss let me go early. Pregnancy perk,” she said. Considering it was about the _only_ pregnancy perk, she’d take it. “What about you?”

“Oh, I took the day off,” he replied.

“So did I,” Roan said. “Your guy here would’ve been lost on this nursery without me.”

“You got the nursery done?” she asked Bellamy excitedly.

He came out of the room and shut the door. “Well, it’s not completely done yet,” he said, “so you can’t go in there.”

She pouted momentarily, but really, she kind of liked that he was making it a surprise for her. “Is it looking good?” she asked Roan.

“Not too bad,” Roan said. “I’m gonna head out now. Don’t screw anything up in there.”

“I won’t,” Bellamy promised.

As Roan descended the steps, he said, “Nice to meet you, Clarke.”

“Yeah, you, too.” He seemed like a nice guy, and it was good to know that Bellamy had someone a little more experienced with building helping him out. “Are you _sure_ I can’t see it?” she asked her boyfriend, wondering if he’d give her just a little sneak peek.

“Not yet,” he said, sticking to his guns. “So, Bree problems, huh?”

“Ugh, it’s whatever. I don’t really care,” she decided, taking off her shirt now that Roan was gone. She unhooked her bra, too, as she meandered into the bedroom. “I’m kinda tired,” she said. “I think I’m gonna take a nap.” She grabbed a t-shirt—one of his—out of the drawer, and threw it on. The sweatpants could stay on. Those were comfy. “Can you come lay with me?” she asked him, depositing her special pillow on the floor. She’d rather snuggle with him right now.

“Sure.” He waited until she got situated, then crawled onto his side of the bed and curled up behind her. His warm lips grazed the back of her neck, and one of his hands draped over her stomach. “You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

Well, it wasn’t just that her bladder had continued to wreak havoc on her. “Bad dreams,” she answered vaguely.

“What about?”

She remembered a lot of them. They were detailed and unsettling, but according to everything she’d read online, they were normal. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Just cuddle with me. Cuddle with me and Avery.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed her belly lovingly, and almost as if she were responding to his touch, Avery moved around a bit. “Damn, she’s active right now,” he said.

“Yeah.” It seemed like she was getting more and more active all the time, which was a good sign. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about kick counts, but . . . she’s making it hard to rest.”

He again kissed the back of her neck softly and said, “She just can’t wait to come out and meet you.”

“You, too,” she said, glad that he could already feel all those movements Avery was making. It seemed . . . important somehow.

Against her better judgment, she thought back to what Bree had said, that awful tone in her voice when she’d said that this wasn’t really Bellamy’s baby. But that couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. He might not have been the one to put her there, but he loved her so much, just like her biological father should have.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy cuddled with Clarke for a long time after she got home, but he never fell asleep the way she did. His mind was on that nursery and on finishing painting the walls. He’d only gotten three of them covered today, and that fourth was bugging him. So when Clarke seemed to be sleeping soundly and the sun was starting to set, he carefully untangled himself from her and got out of bed so he could slip into the other room and finish the job.

Once he got in the nursery, he got busy with tasks besides painting. Like hanging up the new curtains or trying to mount the shelves to the wall. The latter was definitely going to require Roan’s help, because he almost died trying to do it himself. It only took one unsuccessful attempt for him to abandon that task and move onto another: nailing the letters of Avery’s name onto the wall, right above her crib.

He’d only made it to the E when he heard Clarke cry out.

Dropping everything, he ran back into their bedroom, where she was sitting up and clutching the covers to her chest, shaking.

“What, what, what?” he said, sitting down beside her, looking her over to see if anything seemed . . . wrong. “Clarke!”

She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head.

“What’s wrong?” His heart raced with concern for her. There was no blood on the sheets, though, and she wasn’t clutching her stomach like she was in pain. So more than likely, it was another bad dream like the one she’d had the other night. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked, stroking her hair.

Wordlessly, she nodded, and her mouth quivered before she started to cry. It was the kind of crying that shook her whole body and made it impossible for her to speak.

“Come here,” he said, scooping her all the way up into his arms. Her whole body . . . it was trembling. “Shh . . .” he soothed rubbing his hands up and down her back, trying to calm her down and get her settled again. But she kept crying and just clung to him like she was afraid to let go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke acted fine the next morning. But Bellamy was worried about her. That hadn’t been normal last night. Right? It couldn’t have been. He’d known Clarke to toss and turn during the night, but this was twice in the past two weeks that she’d woken up in a pretty hysterical state. It’d taken her a long time to calm down from it, too, and even when she’d stopped crying, he didn’t feel like she’d slept very soundly last night. He sure as hell hadn’t.

Because she insisted on going to class, he went to the hospital by himself. Just to see if Dr. Jackson had a couple minutes to spare to . . . put his mind at ease. Fortunately for him, the doctor was able to squeeze him in a little after 9:00, so Bellamy sat down in his office and told him what had happened. He didn’t seem very concerned and practically ushered Bellamy out the door.

“So this is really all normal?” Bellamy asked as he walked out with him.

“Yes. Clarke isn’t the first woman to have vivid dreams during pregnancy,” Dr. Jackson assured him. “Believe it or not, people have done scientific studies about this.”

If there were studies, then that meant they were answers. Or at least hypotheses. “So why does it happen?” he questioned.

“Well, the hormonal changes certainly contribute,” the doctor explained. “Plus, pregnant women need more sleep, and when you sleep more, you dream more. And dream recall is certainly higher for her right now. If the baby moves in the night or she wakes up to go to the bathroom, she’s more likely to remember what she was dreaming than if she slept straight through the night.”

_Makes sense_ , Bellamy thought. But that didn’t explain why she was having more bad dreams than usual. “Why’s she having nightmares?” he asked, slowing his pace. He wasn’t going to leave until his questions were answered.

“Well, dreams reflect our thoughts and our hopes,” Dr. Jackson replied. “And our fears. As she gets closer to the third trimester, Clarke’s probably dealing with a lot of anxiety and uncertainty. It wouldn’t be uncommon for her to be dreaming about labor and delivery or about making some kind of mistake once the baby’s born. She’s a first-time mom. She’s dealing with a lot of stress when it comes to bringing another human into the world.”

Bellamy supposed he couldn’t quite understand that, because even though he was preparing to be a dad, he wasn’t actively creating another person inside him, and he wasn’t going to have to give birth or breastfeed or anything like that. Babies were more dependent on their mothers. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be of assistance. “How can I help her?” he asked, stopping altogether right in the middle of the hallway.

Jackson stopped, too, as nurses squeezed past them. “Talk to her about her dreams, if she wants to,” he suggested. “Some of them might have scared her, confused her, or maybe even made her laugh. I once had a patient who dreamt she gave birth in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.”

“So it’s really nothing to be worried about?” he asked . . . again.

“No. Perfectly common,” Dr. Jackson assured him. “Although that doesn’t mean she should ignore her dreams altogether. A lot of times what we dream reflects our insecurities. If she feels like she needs to talk through anything with a professional, we’ve got people on staff right here at the hospital who can listen to her.”

Knowing what he knew about Clarke, she’d be opposed to that, so he said, “I’ll try talking to her first,” and then told the doctor, “thanks.” This really put his mind at ease.

When he headed back out past the waiting room, he saw Abby standing at the check-in counter, looking over the schedule of patients. She saw him, too, and her greeting was a mere, “Bellamy.”

_Oh, crap_ , he thought, shoving his hands in his pockets. He managed, “Hi,” but not a smile to go along with it.

“Hi,” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

It must have been weird to see him there without Clarke, but he didn’t want to go into detail about it. “I just wanted to see Dr. Jackson about something,” he answered.

“Is everything okay?” Abby asked, tensing up immediately. “Is Clarke--”

“She’s fine.” For all he knew, she was dreaming about Willy Wonka.

Her mother breathed a small sigh of relief and said. “Good.”

_Is that it?_ he wondered. Were they done?

“Well, I’m glad to run into you.”

Apparently they weren’t. “You are?” he said, instantly confused. Abby was never happy to see him. In fact, she’d probably loved the fact that he’d been gone for five years.

“Yes.” She moved a little closer and lowered her voice, almost as if she didn’t want anyone else to overhear. “I wanted to . . . to thank you for convincing me to extend an olive branch to Clarke. She and I had a very nice conversation the other day, and I think we’re gonna be able to move forward from here.”

_What the fuck?_ he thought, his head spinning. First she’d apologized to him, and now she was thanking him? Was the world off its axis, or was he just living in an alternate reality? Neither of those things ever happened. “That’s good,” he said, downplaying his shock.

“And I just wanted to say . . .” She paused for a long time, to the point where he thought she might have forgotten what she wanted to say. But then she said it: “I’m glad she’s not going through all of this alone. You’ve been . . . a really good support system for her.”

Oh, the world was _definitely_ off its axis. Either that or Clarke had made her swear that she’d try to be nicer to him or they’d never speak again. Something drastic like that. “I think that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he told her. And hell, he would take it. She wasn’t exactly inviting him to become her son-in-law anytime soon, but any conversation of theirs that ended with something other than a disagreement was something to cherish.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy was in a good mood when he finally got home early that evening. Sure, work had been tiring, but work was always tiring. That was nothing new. His surprisingly un-antagonistic run-in at the hospital . . . that was.

Clarke was sitting on the couch, an open textbook to the side of her while she used her stomach as a tabletop for notetaking. She looked like she was in the zone, but he had to interrupt and tell her about what had happened today. “Guess what?” he said. “Your mom was nice to me today. She said hi to me, and I said hi to her, and then she talked to me without making me feel like a complete and utter failure at life.”

Clarke set her notes aside and smiled up at him. “That’s great,” she said. “Where’d you run into her?”

“At the hospital.”

Her brows furrowed curiously. “Why were you at the hospital?” she asked. “You don’t have erectile dysfunction, do you?”

He chuckled and moved the pillows on the couch aside so he had room to sit beside her. “You know I don’t,” he said. “No, I just . . . I stopped by to talk to Dr. Jackson. About the dreams you’ve been having.”

She tensed up a bit at the mention of those. “Vivid dreams are common during pregnancy, Bellamy,” she said. “I looked it up.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.” He definitely felt better having gotten an expert opinion, because a lot of people online didn’t know what they were talking about. “I was just worried about you,” he admitted. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

“No,” she answered quickly. “I don’t even remember what I dreamt last night.”

“Really?” That . . . seemed odd considering how distraught she’d been. “He said you’d probably remember a lot of detail.”

“Well, I don’t.”

She did, though. He sensed that she did. “You can talk to me,” he reminded her, placing a hand on her stomach.

She set her hand atop his and mumbled, “I know. But it’s . . .” She trailed off, and when she spoke again, her tone was completely different. “Hey, we should stay up tonight,” she suggested.

“We should?”

“Yeah. It’s a weekend. Why not?” She shrugged and smiled. “We could have a slumber party.”

“Key word: slumber.”

“Okay, a slumber party without the slumber then,” she amended.

The thought of no slumber tonight actually sounded . . . kind of awful. He was beat. And she should have been, too. “You need rest,” he reminded her.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I wanna stay awake with you.”

Of course . . . the upside to staying awake was that they could have a lot of sex. “Okay,” he decided, withdrawing his hand from her stomach so he could undo his pants. “I’ll try to be a marathon man.”

But she reached out and stopped him. “No,” she said.

“No?” He was so confused.

“You get really tired after sex.”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause my technique isn’t easy,” he said. “I work hard to make you cum.” And he enjoyed every damn second of it.

“Come on, let’s go find some fun stuff to do,” she said, struggling to get up off the couch.

“Sex is fun,” he pointed out as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

Although Bellamy was glad he didn’t have to help Clarke study—even if he hadn’t been dyslexic, all that medical terminology in her textbook would have gone right over his head—he wasn’t sure what to think when she started spouting off ideas for things they could do to while away the hours. It started out with an impromptu guitar lesson, which he sucked at. She tried to teach him what she deemed to be an easy song, but he proved to be unteachable, so they ended up moving to the piano instead. He did manage to get “Chopsticks” down, but when they moved onto “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” that got a little more complicated, and she had to rearrange his fingers for him on the keys a lot.

After the music lessons, she dragged him into the bathroom and told him to sit on the counter. When she brought out the makeup, he knew it wasn’t going to end well for him. But when you were a guy and your pregnant girlfriend told you to do something, you just did it, no questions asked. So he sat there and let her put eyeshadow on him, and mascara. Or whatever it was called. He couldn’t quite keep his eyes open when she came out him with a dark pencil, though so she skipped that and went straight for lip gloss. When he looked at himself in the mirror afterward, he about keeled over with laughter. He pretty much looked like a drag queen. Fortunately, even though she snapped a few pictures of his makeover, she vowed not to post them online and let him wash his face right after.

Clarke started to get hungry after that, but instead of just popping something in the microwave, she insisted on actually cooking dinner to pass the time. She had an old recipe book from her grandma, one that she never used, so she cracked that open, and they searched for something they had the necessary ingredients for. It ended up being some kind of casserole with a name Bellamy couldn’t pronounce, but it looked good enough. Unfortunately, it took a while to cook. It had to be in the oven for forty minutes, and when they took it out, it was too soupy to eat. They must have done something wrong. Clarke ate a couple bites, made a face of disgust, and suggested that they just order pizza instead. While they waited for that, she smeared some of the failed casserole on the side of his face, and he retaliated by dropping a glob of it on the top of her head. They had a bit of a mini-food fight after that, but when the kitchen started to get too dirty, she said they had to stop.

The pizza got cold as fuck when they headed upstairs to shower off. But even though they didn’t have sex in the shower, they were both content to stay in there together for a while. They cleaned each other off, did some kissing, and ran some shampoo through each other’s hair.

Clarke opted for one of his t-shirts and her bathrobe after she got out of the shower, and he just put on some sweatpants and called it good as they headed back downstairs to heat up their pizza. She ended up just eating her slices cold, though, as the microwave zapped the taste out of it for her. After eating, they put on some music and had their own private dance party all through the living room. Bellamy didn’t consider himself a horrible dancer, but even with a baby in her belly, she still had way more rhythm than him; so he mainly tried to copy Miller’s moves—Miller called his style “pimp style”—and got a kick out of his girl trying to lean back and do the Bernie. They also filmed a video of themselves dancing to the Baby Mama song, because . . . why not?

The dancing didn’t last long since she ran out of breath easily, so they slowed it down after that—fine by him since it was getting late—and settled down on the couch. She put her feet in his lap and asked for a foot-rub, and while he was in the middle of doing that, she suggested that he crack open a book and read to the baby. With one hand, he gave her feet a much-needed massage, and he held open some cheesy Nicholas Sparks book with the other, painstakingly making his way page by page through a couple chapters. Sure, some of the d’s looked like b’s, and he had to pause once in a while to make sure he was reading it correctly. But she didn’t rush him or get annoyed with him. In fact, she told him Avery liked hearing his voice, because she was moving around a lot.

Around midnight, he was _really_ starting to get tired, and he couldn’t contain his yawns. But Clarke was still full of ideas for things to do. She brought out a bunch of old board games, things he hadn’t played in years, and proceeded to kick his ass at every single one of them. Chess was one of her favorites. She had a good strategy in place, and he neglected to tell her that he didn’t actually know how to play.

“Checkmate,” she declared, knocking his king off the board with her queen. “I win again.”

He slumped over the kitchen table, rubbing his face and struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’m so fuckin’ tired.”

“Why?” she said. “It’s only 1:00 a.m.”

“Only? We were up at 6:00.” He used to be able to stay up late all the time, function on only a few hours of sleep if that was necessary. But the older her got, the harder it was to do that.

“I’m not tired,” she said. “You wanna play again?”

He groaned. “I wanna sleep.”

“No, stay up, Bellamy,” she said, already arranging her pieces on one side of the chessboard. “You promised.”

He had. But his body was protesting that promise. She had to have been feeling it, too, but she was just more set on this slumber-less slumber party than he was. And it was pretty obvious why. “You can go to bed, you know,” he told her. “You’re not gonna have bad dreams every night.” Hell, maybe she’d have a good dream tonight and remember that one in detail.

“We have to do this kind of thing now,” she said. “When the baby’s born . . .”

“When the baby’s born, we’ll be up all night,” he interrupted. “We should be sleeping now, while we still can.”

She shook her head stubbornly and said, “You can go to bed if you want. I’m gonna stay awake.”

He sat there with his hand supporting his head, watching her hands move quickly as she set up his side of the chessboard, too. What was she going to do, sit there and play chess by herself while he nodded off on her? No, he couldn’t let that happen. “I’m awake if you’re awake,” he decided, making the first move with one of his pawns. Hell, maybe he’d finally win a game.

She didn’t say anything to thank him for staying up with her, but the small smile she gave him was thanks enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Feeling like he couldn’t keep his eyes open for another minute, Bellamy just barely managed to make it to his mom’s house. She’d invited him over for lunch, but he’d had leftover pizza for breakfast, and eating sounded like it required more energy than what he currently had.

“Mom, I need my bed,” she he announced as he lumbered through the door. “Just for a couple hours. I need to lay in it.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because Clarke’s friends came over, and I can’t sleep with them there.” Yawning, he took his shoes off, then rubbed his eyes and groaned, “I’m so tired.”

“You look like you didn’t get any sleep,” she remarked.

“I didn’t. Clarke kept me up all night.”

“Oh.” She made a face. “Possibly a little too much information.”

“No, not like that. There were games, and there was makeup. And food.”

“Again, honey . . .”

With that description, his poor mom probably thought they’d been up to some kinky shit, but he felt too lethargic to adequately explain it to her. “I’m just gonna crash. Don’t mind me,” he said as he headed down the hallway and practically fell into his bedroom. He flung himself onto the bed, face down, and didn’t move once he hit the mattress. His pillow was covering half his face, but he didn’t care. It was comfortable as fuck, and it wouldn’t take him long to fall asleep.

****

_“Bellamy!” Octavia hollered, pounding on the door to his bedroom like the brat she could be. “You’re supposed to drive me to Alina’s house today!”_

_He paused momentarily with his hand on his cock, trying desperately not to lose his erection. But that was difficult when his little sister was being so annoying. “I don’t know who that is!” he shouted back._

_“Jenna’s sister.”_

_Jenna? Did he know a Jenna? Had he slept with a Jenna before?_

_“Bellamy!”_

_“Octavia!” he yelled. “Go away!” He resumed pumping his cock, going at a pretty fast pace._

_“I’m bored,” she complained. “Why is your door locked?”_

Because I’m jacking off, _he thought exasperatedly. But he couldn’t very well say that to her. So he went with, “Because you annoy me,” instead, and once again told her, “Leave!”_

_There were some audible and exaggerated whines on the other side of that door, but much to his relief, she did seem to go away._ Thank the fucking lord, _he thought. Now he could concentrate on what he was doing._

_Rubbing one out just wasn’t the same as getting head or having sex. He could get himself off, and he would, but it was so much better when a girl did it. Especially Clarke, with her soft lips and small hands. Or her hot, wet . . ._

_Just thinking about it made him growl low in his throat, and he_ really _started jerking himself off, desperate to cum._

_Right as he was starting to feel close, another knock disrupted him. This one came from his window. No one ever knocked on his window. Unless . . ._

No way, _he thought, trying not to get his hopes up. But he wanted it to be her. Pulling his boxers up, he sprang out of bed and ran rushed to the window, shirtless and pitching a metaphorical tent. It was gonna be painfully obvious what he’d been doing._

_When he pulled back the curtain and saw her face, he felt himself smile from ear to ear. He pushed open the window eagerly, so excited to see her. “Hey, what’re you--”_

_“I miss you,” she said, crawling in through the window quickly. She flung herself against him and kissed him deeply. Almost . . . hungrily._

_“I miss you, too,” he said, putting his hands on her waist, her hips. God, it felt so good to touch her again. “Does your mom know you’re here?”_

_“No. I snuck out.” She grinned, trailing her hands down his chest. When she got to his happy trail, she teased, “And what were you up to?”_

_“Just thinkin’ about you.”_

_“I see that.” She slipped one hand underneath the waistline of his boxers and grabbed hold of his cock, stroking up and down his length. She was being so forward, so aggressive, and he loved that. It let her know just how much she wanted him._

_“Oh . . .” he groaned, struggling to keep himself quiet. His sister was still home, and he didn’t want her hearing anything. It felt so fucking good, though; her hand was so much better than his, and within less than a minute, he came. She didn’t stop touching him until he was done._

_“Is that better?” she asked, slowly removing her hand._

_“Much.” This was like a fantasy, her showing up here just like this. Breaking her mom’s stupid rules, doing whatever she had to do to see him._

_Clearly Clarke was feeling just as horny and deprived as he was, because she yanked his boxers down and pushed him back towards the bed before he could even completely step out of them. He practically fell onto his mattress, and she hopped on top of him and started kissing him like she couldn’t get enough._

_Maybe she really_ couldn’t _get enough. Maybe neither one of them could._

****

When Bellamy finally woke up, it was getting dark outside. The short nap he’d planned to have at his mom’s had gone on for hours. But he finally felt rested.

He’d wound up on his back, and when he glanced down at his crotch and noticed the bulge in his pants, he knew exactly what kind of dream he’d been having.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke was busy gorging on dessert by the time Bellamy got home that evening. “Hey, look what Raven brought over,” she said, pointing out the pan full of fudge-frosted brownies next to her on the counter.

“Are those special brownies?” he asked as he shrugged off his coat.

“No, just the regular kind.” She popped the last bite of her second one into her mouth, forcing herself to walk away from them, even though she could have probably eaten three more.

Bellamy took the smallest one out of the pan and ate almost the whole thing in one bite. “Did you have fun with her and Harper?” he asked her.

“Harper couldn’t make it,” she told him. “She ended up having to do some rehearsal for her performance tomorrow night.”

“Right, her performance,” he said, nodding slowly. “The one we’re going to. That is the one, right?”

“Right.” Ever year around this time, the dance majors at Arkadia put on a winter recital of sorts, and then they did one at the end of the year, too.

“Isn’t it, like, a ballet thing?” He made a face.

“Yes. So you have to dress up.” She kind of loved it, to be honest. The fancy dresses on the girls, nice suits on the guys, and of course the dancing itself. It all kind of made her forget that she was in Arkadia, because it felt more like an upscale New Yorker thing.

“What about you?” she asked him. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he said. “I went over to my mom’s, got some sleep.”

He definitely did look more rested. And she couldn’t blame him for wanting to hit the hay. Last night had been a struggle for her, too, even though she hadn’t acted like it. “I’m not even tired,” she claimed, although that wasn’t completely true. Had Raven not hung out with her today, she probably would have nodded off on the couch.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her skeptically. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she fibbed. “In fact, I could probably stay up again tonight.”

His response came swiftly. “No, you can’t. Babe . . . you gotta take care of yourself.”

She knew he was right, but the thought of having _another_ nightmare . . . possibly one about the same thing . . . It _literally_ scared her. Because when she woke up from those dreams, it felt like they were real. “Well, I don’t wanna go to sleep,” she muttered stubbornly.

“I’m right there,” he said, closing the distance between them so he could rub her arms and shoulders. “I’ll cuddle with you; we’ll snuggle. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Logically, she knew that. She knew that she could curl up with him, and he’d keep her warm, and he’d cover her up again if she kicked all the blankets off. If she started to toss and turn, he’d try to comfort her. And if she did wake up crying and screaming again, he’d hold her until she felt better. But . . .

“They’re really bad dreams, Bellamy,” she said.

“Okay,” he said calmly. “What about?”

Her heart kind of . . . squeezed in her chest. Because he was being so sweet and so supportive. But she couldn’t talk to him about this. “Nothing,” she said dismissively.

“Well, it must be something.”

It was. Something she didn’t want to talk about.

“Look, I got online, and I was reading about this woman who dreamt she gave birth to a cactus,” he said. “And she woke up with her legs in the air telling her husband she had to push.”

That sounded . . . weird. But Clarke would have rather had a dream like that.

“And then this other woman dreamt she was having sex with Napoleon Dynamite at her gynecologist’s office,” he went on. “Nothing’s too weird or embarrassing. You can tell me.”

She shook her head adamantly. “No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” She just couldn’t.

“Look, I can’t help you deal with anything if you won’t even tell me about it,” he said. “So why don’t we sit down, and you can just tell me--”

“No, I _can’t_ ,” she insisted.

“Why not?”

“Because I keep having dreams where you leave me!” The words just tumbled out. She couldn’t stop them. And then they just hung there, getting louder and louder with each silent second that passed. The look on his face when he heard her say that was . . . stunned at first. Then confused. Then hurt.

She’d _hurt_ him.

Knowing that, she hurried upstairs as fast as she could so that she wouldn’t say something that would hurt him even more.


	41. Chapter 41

_Chapter 41_

Bellamy had a rough day at work. It was just hard to get through, because he hadn’t slept much, and he didn’t want to be there. When he’d finally gone upstairs to talk to Clarke last night, she’d already been asleep. Or at least she’d pretended to be. But she hadn’t moved around in the night nearly as much as she did when she was actually sleeping, so chances were, they’d _both_ lain awake, just not saying anything.

Emerson got pissed at him for “slacking off on the job.” He tried to explain that he’d just had a rough night, but his boss presumed that to mean that he’d been out drinking and partying. Instead of bothering to correct him, Bellamy just sucked it up, apologized, and got back to work. He even skipped lunch to make up for his perceived laziness.

It felt good to get home. For about two seconds. And then he remembered that he wouldn’t be there for long. He and Clarke had agreed to go to that stupid dance thing tonight. Which meant they probably weren’t gonna have time to just sit down and talk out their . . . issues.

Was it an issue, though? Or just a bad dream?

When he walked into their bedroom, he found her standing in front of the full length-mirror, surveying herself as she donned a brand new dress. It was this short-sleeved beige gown with a bunch of sparkly shit on the top. Real flowy on the bottom. It looked comfy for her. “Wow,” he said, taken aback by how fucking gorgeous she was. “You look beautiful.” It wasn’t that he ever forgot his girlfriend was a total babe. It was just that, when she got all dressed up like this, he was in awe.

“Thanks,” she said, casting him a quick, modest smile. She probably didn’t feel as hot as she looked.

“Is this new?” he asked, entering the room.

“Yeah.” She smoothed her hand over the curve of her belly and lamented, “None of my old fancy dresses fit me anymore.”

She didn’t need any of those old dresses then. This one looked good on her.

He stood behind her, comparing his reflection in the mirror to hers. She looked like . . . well, like a princess. And he had smudges of dirt on his shirt and filthy hands. “Can we talk about what you told me last night?” he asked, figuring it was better to have the conversation—or at least _start_ it—before they left tonight.

“We don’t have to,” she mumbled, looking downward.

“Yeah, we do,” he insisted. It wasn’t going to do them any good to sweep it under the rug.

Turning around, she looked him up and down and said, “You need to get ready. This ballet starts in, like, an hour.”

“Two hours.”

“Then Raven and Murphy will be here in forty-five minutes.”

“I can be ready in fifteen,” he claimed. “Listen, when I talked to the doctor, he told me the dreams you’re having right now can be based on your fears and insecurities. I don’t want you feeling afraid that I’m gonna--”

“They’re just dreams, Bellamy,” she cut in. “They don’t matter.”

“I think they do.”

She met his eyes, and for a moment, she looked like she was going to say something. But when she did, it was only, “You need to get ready.” She patted him on the chest, then left the bedroom, heading downstairs to . . . avoid talking to him, he assumed.

As it turned out, Bellamy’s claim that he could get ready in fifteen minutes wasn’t realistic. He had to hop in the shower, and even though he made it a quick one, his hair still had to dry afterward. He passed the time until Murphy and Raven showed up by doing a little beard-grooming, and he put on his suit and debated whether or not to wear a tie. He ended up ditching it, because although this was a formal event, that was just too formal to him. When Murphy and Raven showed up and he saw that Murphy was doing the same no-tie look, he felt better knowing he at least wouldn’t be the only one slightly underdressed.

The performance was taking place at the theater on campus, and parking was crowded. Murphy offered to snag a handicapped spot and said he had a permit to hang from his rearview mirror. Although they all considered it, they eventually decided against it and parked in one of the farthest away rows.

“Just kill me now,” Murphy grumbled as he got out.

“Oh, come on,” Raven said, a scolding tone to her voice. “Don’t be so over-dramatic.”

“This isn’t exactly my idea of fun,” Murphy said. “You think it’s gonna be as boring as last year’s?”

“No. Harper’s a senior this year,” his girlfriend pointed out. “She’ll have a bigger part.”

Bellamy helped Clarke out of the car and too her feet—easier said than done these days—and held out his arm for her to link hers with.

“I’m just gonna call it now,” Murphy said. “Not a single one of us is gonna stay awake.”

“Oh, I’m sure Clarke will,” Bellamy mumbled. She didn’t wanna end up dreaming that he’d leave her again.

“Let’s just go inside,” she said, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “It’s cold out here.”

_No, it’s not_ , he thought. But he headed inside with her anyway.

Stepping into the theater was like stepping into a different world, one where everyone was dressed in their best and where classical music played through the loudspeakers. Contrary to popular belief, the theater wasn’t _just_ for performances from the college. Polis didn’t have a good venue for shows of any kind, but they had an adult improve group that often utilized part of the space. And Bellamy recalled his mom going on a date with some guy once to see a production of _Fiddler on the Roof_. There hadn’t been a second date, though, so maybe it hadn’t been that good.

Bellamy had never been in there once before, so he had to marvel at the ornate architecture, the hand-crafted detail on the railings of the balcony that overlooked the first floor. Now that he was in construction, he knew just how hard it was to build things, and he couldn’t imagine being part of the team that had been assigned to build this place.

“Okay, you have to admit, this is pretty cool,” Raven said as the four of them strode beneath a large crystal chandelier. “Makes me feel a lot wealthier than I actually am.”

_Me, too_ , Bellamy thought. It was kind of . . . a lot. Nice, for sure, but . . . if there was an intermission, what was he going to eat? This didn’t seem like the kind of place that would serve up hot dogs and nachos. What if there was only caviar and escargot?

“Is this what it feels like at your mom’s fancy charity events, Clarke?” Raven asked teasingly. When she got no response, she said her friend’s name again. “Clarke?”

“Huh?” Clarke was clearly unfocused. Or maybe just tired. Probably the latter.

“Are you okay?” Raven asked her. “You’re extra out of it tonight. Both of you are.”

“Yeah, it’s not making for very good footage,” Murphy complained. Unbeknownst to Bellamy, he’d whipped his phone out and was recording them.

“Sorry,” Clarke apologized.

“Yeah, it’s just been a weird couple of days,” Bellamy said. If he’d known things were going to get this weird, he would have spent some of that slumber party night talking to Clarke about all of this, getting her to open up sooner.

“There’s Monty,” Clarke said, looking over the balcony.

Murphy put his camera away, and Raven’s attention was sufficiently diverted as Monty approached them. “Ooh, there he is!” she exclaimed. “So tell me, just how proud is the proud boyfriend tonight?”

“Extremely,” Monty said. “Thanks for coming, guys. I know Harper really appreciates it.”

“She’d better,” Murphy grunted. When Raven jabbed her elbow at him, he changed his tune. “I mean . . . we wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Maybe Raven and Monty wouldn’t, but Bellamy had a feeling the rest of them would have liked to.

“Let’s just go find our seats,” Clarke said. “These shoes are killing me.”

Monty led them to their seats, which weren’t great. They were probably cheaper, though. He had a seat farther up front, of course, where the chairs looked comfier and more spacious. Something Bellamy knew Clarke definitely would have benefited from.

“Jesus Christ,” Murphy swore. “Way back in the nosebleeds.”

“No, it’s better back here,” Raven said as she settled in on the end of the aisle. “You get a better view.”

“Of what? Prancing men with their packages bouncing around?” Murphy snorted. “No, thanks.”

“Sounds like Miller’s type of show,” Bellamy said. Too bad he couldn’t have had his friend come in his place.

Clarke looked like she couldn’t get settled right from the start. She took her shawl off and folded it up underneath herself to sit on it like a seat cushion, but that didn’t stop her from rubbing her back as she tried to get comfy.

“Here,” he said, giving her his suit jacket. He put it behind her back like a pillow, allowing her sit up straighter and have something better to lean back against.

“Thanks,” she said. But she barely even looked at him. She was sitting right next to him, but somehow, she felt so distant. Like she was _keeping_ him at a distance. He wasn’t used to that.

When the lights dimmed and the music began to swell, everyone in the theater fell quiet. Harper was the first to take the stage, all by herself. When Bellamy thought of the ballet, he expected frilly tutus and shit, but Harper was dressed in what looked like a thin black slip. Nothing fancy or bedazzled or anything like that. She looked . . . really hot, actually, and when Bellamy cast a quick look at Murphy, he could tell by the other guy’s face that he was thinking the exact same thing.

There wasn’t any speaking involved, so it was all just movement, the interpretive kind. Bellamy wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but it seemed like kind of a romantic production when a man came out on stage and he and Harper started dancing together. The music gave cues as to what was going on, too. It sounded lighthearted when the story was lighthearted. It grew more ominous when the drama ramped up. Twenty minutes in, after a big group number where the moves seemed to be mimicking a fight sequence, it was just Harper and the male lead on the stage again, and the music got really soft and sad-sounding.

“Stay awake, Murphy,” he heard Raven snap at her boyfriend.

In contrast, Bellamy wasn’t actually having that hard of a time staying awake. Despite being tired, the show was pretty well-done, and the athlete in him respected the physicality of it all. But when he looked over at Clarke to see how she was doing, she immediately captured _all_ of his attention. Because her eyes were glued to the stage, and . . . they were filling with tears.

She looked like she might start crying any minute as she watched her friend twirl and leap all across the stage with a male counterpart, and Bellamy first assumed it was just her hormones acting up again. But when he looked back and forth between her and the performance happening in front of them, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was something . . . deeper. Because it seemed to him like they were watching some kind of scene unfold where the focal couple got torn apart somehow. It seemed like they were leaving each other. Or maybe he was just leaving her. There were several moments where Harper ran after him and did things like jumping onto his back or pulling on his arm to get him to come closer. It was just a story, and they both knew that, but still . . . it seemed like it was affecting her.

“You okay?” he asked her quietly.

Blinking back tears, she looked away from the stage, avoided all eye contact with him, and said, “I think I need a break,” before getting up and squeezing past both Murphy and Raven as she made a hasty exit. Murphy didn’t notice, because his neck was craned back and his mouth was hanging open as he slept and snored, but Raven gave him a curious look. Even without knowing the full situation of what was going on, she probably knew her best friend well enough to know that something was bothering her.

The longer they went without talking about it, the more it bothered Bellamy, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke didn’t actually have to go to the bathroom—for once—but she hung out there for a few minutes. Just five. Maybe ten? She really wasn’t sure, but it gave her a chance to try to collect herself. This dance she was watching . . . it was really beautiful. But it just struck her as _so_ sad. It was a love story, sure, but it was also a drama. A _lost_ love story. And considering the dreams she’d been having as of late, it just really hit home.

After she’d touched up her eye makeup and calmed down her emotions, she decided it was time to rejoin her friends. It’d be the intermission soon, so all she had to do was get through a little more of the show, and then she could have a break. Maybe she could even pull Raven aside and talk to her.

When she walked out of the bathroom, there was Bellamy, just standing a few feet outside the door, hands in his pockets, once again donning his suit jacket. He looked so dapper and sophisticated and . . . unlike himself, to be honest. But in other ways, the ways that mattered, he looked _just_ like himself. Just like he always did. Kind. Supportive. Understanding. And he looked like he’d been waiting out there for a while.

“You’re missing the show,” she remarked, wondering how long he’d been standing out there. Five minutes? Probably ten.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied.

It really didn’t, did it? The show was nice and everything, and Harper was doing a great job in the lead dancer role. But it wasn’t as important as this.

There was an elaborately-adorned bench near the railing looking down over the first floor, so he took a seat and motioned for her to sit next to him. She had to pick up her dress so she didn’t step on it any more than she already had, but eventually she waddled towards him and sat down.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” she apologized, wishing she could just shut some of these emotions off.

“Like what?” he asked.

“ _This_. Just so overly-emotional.” It wasn’t fun having her feelings take her on a roller coaster ride every single day. And she knew it affected him, too.

Of course, he didn’t make her feel bad about it. Instead, he joked, “Comes with the territory,” and patted her bulging belly.

“I know, but it’s probably really annoying.” Sometimes she wondered if he ever missed just having a normal girlfriend, one who didn’t cry at the drop of a hat or freak out if there was no ice cream left in the freezer. She’d been a normal girlfriend to him once. Once upon a time. A long time ago.

Or . . . at least it seemed like a long time.

“Well, I haven’t gone running for the hills yet,” he said, immediately cringing after the sentence left his mouth. “Sorry, wrong choice of words.”

It really was. The other night, she’d literally had a dream where he’d run off towards some hills, leaving her behind.

“Clarke, have I done something or said something to make you worry I’d leave you?” he asked, his voice quieter than it usually was.

“No,” she assured him quickly. “No, you’ve been . . . amazing. Like my human stress ball.” She smiled shakily, but dammit if the tears she’d just quelled in the bathroom started to fall. She wiped them away so he wouldn’t have to see too many of them. “It’s hard to explain, Bellamy,” she said. “But I just . . .” She took in a deep breath, let it out, and forced herself to remember some of the nightmares that had literally jolted her awake. “The first time I dreamt about it, we were going on a trip. To Wilmington. All over again. But you left without me. And then you didn’t come back.”

He frowned, but to his credit, he let her keep going.

“And then the next one was actually in the delivery room, and you walked out right as I was having the baby.”

“I would never--”

“I know,” she said. “I know you would never do that. Just like you would never cheat on me with my prenatal yoga instructor.” She laughed at the ridiculousness of that, even though Luna was very exotic and pretty, and had Bellamy met her in Italy, he probably would have hooked up with her. “That was another dream,” she said. “They’re not . . . they’re not realistic. I get that. But they _feel_ so real. And then when I wake up, it’s terrifying.”

He took that in, nodding slowly, his eyes downcast, then mumbled, “I think it’s my fault.”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. “Why?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Deep down, you worry about me leaving you because . . . I already left once.”

_Oh god, Bellamy_ . . . Her heart sank. Because she didn’t want him feeling guilty about that. “No, that was different. You had college and . . .” Everyone had been telling him to go, including her. It’d been what was best for him at the time. “Believe me, I don’t hold that against you.”

“I wish I hadn’t gone,” he said. “It didn’t amount to anything. All I did was hang around long enough to . . . let my teammates do what they did.” He shook his head in disgust. “I should’ve stayed here with you. Then we wouldn’t have missed out on five years.”

A few more tears spilled. She couldn’t contain them, try as she might. Those five years . . . it wasn’t something they could ever get back, even if they tried to make up for it now.

“I’m not gonna leave you again, Clarke,” he told her, reaching over to take her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I promise.”

She looked down at their hands and moved her fingers so that they could entwine with his. That simple touch from him was so heartfelt and so assuring that she felt her anxiety finally start to dissolve for the first time in twenty-four hours. He knew about her dreams, and he wasn’t angry with her for it. He could’ve been, but he wasn’t. Even so, she felt bad. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized.

He made a face. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or . . .” She trailed off, feeling like she just couldn’t word things the way she wanted to. “I don’t doubt you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re not the only pregnant woman who’s had bad dreams about her husband.” He quickly added on, “Or boyfriend.” But the other word resonated more.

“Maybe they’ll get better now that we’ve talked about it,” she said, hopeful that she’d at least have _some_ restful, peaceful nights as she prepared herself to head into her third trimester in just a couple of weeks. Everything she’d read said that crazy dreams like this were completely normal, but this was all new to her, so nothing felt normal at all.

“What about funny dreams?” he asked, lightening the mood. “Had any of those?”

The funnier dreams were usually just weird, but she’d had plenty of those, too. “I dreamt that Murphy and Jasper were backup dancers for Britney Spears,” she revealed, still trying to get those images out of her head.

He gave her an incredulous look, then laughed. She laughed, too, and god, it felt good. And necessary. Sometimes, she just needed to not take things so seriously. Back in high school, she’d been pretty good at that.

****

_Clarke leaned against Bellamy’s truck, one hand on the window, the other on her hip, and watched her boyfriend walk out of the school. When he saw her waiting for him, he walked faster._

_“Hey,” she said when he was closer. “You got Raven’s text.”_

_“Sure did.” He stayed up on the sidewalk, grinning at her. “I knew it was from you.”_

_“How?”_

_“Well, the kissing emoji kinda clued me in.”_

_“Plenty of girls in this school wanna kiss you,” she pointed out._

_“Yeah, but you want it more.”_

_So true. She did. She wanted kissing and . . . more than kissing. Last night, she’d tried masturbating in the shower, but it hadn’t really worked. “Did anyone see you come out?” she asked him._

_He looked back over his shoulder and said nonchalantly, “I don’t think so.”_

_“Good. Because I was just sitting in English thinking . . .” She looked up at the clear, sunny sky, then back at him. “It would be such a waste to spend this unseasonably hot January day cooped up in a classroom.”_

_His eyes immediately lit up with mischief. “You wanna skip school?”_

_She shrugged. “Sure.” She was ahead on all her assignments anyway._

_Stepping down off the sidewalk, he took on a bit of a teasing tone when he questioned, “Have you ever skipped school before?”_

_“No,” she admitted. “But there’s a first time for everything. And I always enjoy my firsts with you.”_

_Bellamy smiled upon hearing that and had to look away. That was kind of his go-to move when she said flirty, innuendo-filled things like that. He looked away because it turned him on so much. It was like his way of keeping control of himself instead of just grabbing her and tearing her clothes off. “What if your parents find out?” he said._

_“I don’t care,” she grunted. “What’re they gonna do, take my cell phone? Ground me? Forbid me from seeing you? They’ve already done all that.” Nope, she’d thought about it, and the only option at this point was straight-up rebellion. Breaking the rules. It was kind of a rush._

_“Your mom’s gonna hate me even more,” he said with a sigh._

_“I’m not actually sure if that’s possible,” she told him. If he was worried, though, then she wasn’t going to force him to leave today. “ No, look, in all seriousness, I know you’ve been trying to get your grades up,” she said, “so if you don’t wanna miss class . . .”_

_“Are you kidding?” he said, giving her an incredulous look. “Get in the truck. Let’s go.” He opened up the driver’s side and hopped in, and she scampered around to the other side, not surprised that he didn’t need any more convincing. Bellamy had been breaking rules long before she had._

_With no real destination in mind, they just drove around for a while, until Bellamy decided he wanted to pick up some beer. They couldn’t very well do that in town, though, so they went to Polis, found the most run-down gas station there, and then chanced it buying two bottles. The woman behind the counter seemed completely uninterested in doing her job, and either she just didn’t bother to card them, or she thought they looked old enough. Either way, she sold it to them, and they drove off yelling and laughing with delight._

_Polis had even less to do than Arkadia did, so they drove back home and headed out to the beach. It was an open stretch of coastline for now, but it was probably under development. Someday, that beach would be somebody’s backyard._

_They sat on the sand, drinking and talking and occasionally making out. It was all just so relaxed and casual and comfortable. Clarke actually felt bad for all her friends who were still in school just going through a normal daily routine._

_“Did you ever come out here last summer?” he asked, taking a drink from their one remaining bottle._

_“No. I went to the pool.”_

_He made a face. “The pool’s a joke. We live on the coast. If you wanna swim, you gotta swim in the ocean. Are you a good swimmer?”_

_She shrugged. “Average.” She took the bottle out of his hand and took only a small drink. If they did get caught, she didn’t want to be drunk. “What about you?” she asked him._

_“I’m really athletic,” was his answer._

_“So if I go out there and start drowning,” she said, looking at the ocean, “you’d save me?”_

_“I’ll always save you,” he promised, leaning over to give her cheek a kiss._

Always? _she wondered. Even when he wasn’t around anymore? Even when he left?_

_A gust of wind blew her hair in front of her face, so she pushed it aside and looked down the beach, spotting what looked like the framework of a house under construction. “My parents really wanna buy a beach house,” she said to him. In fact, it’d been the topic of a very awkward, mundane family dinner last night, one she hadn’t bothered to speak a word at._

_“Why?” Bellamy said. “Their regular house isn’t big enough?”_

_“Property investment. I don’t know.” Maybe they just wanted another house because they could afford one. It’d be a status symbol or something, a marker of wealth. “It’d be really cool to live out here, though. All peaceful and serene. We could build sandcastles.”_

_“And have sex on the beach.” He wriggled his eyebrows._

_“And go swimming.”_

_“Or skinny-dipping.” He reached behind his back and pulled his t-shirt up over his head, then quickly kicked off his shoes._

_“Wait, are you serious?”_

_“Yeah, why not?” He got up and started undoing his pants, pushing them down to his ankles. “Look around,” he said as he stepped out of them. “There’s nobody else out here. Just you and me.”_

_She looked in every direction, realizing . . . he was right. He was totally right. Despite how nice the weather was, it was a weekday. People were at work. Or school._

_Not them._

_“Come on,” he said after he’d taken off his underwear. He darted to the ocean, all bronzed and gorgeous, and momentarily, she was distracted by the sight of his dick bouncing around. Then his butt. Because Bellamy had a nice, toned butt._

_He ran right into that water, colliding with the waves, and immediately dove underneath the surface to get his hair wet._

_“Is the water warm?” she called out to him._

_“Yeah,” he said, waist-deep. “Come on, get in, Clarke!”_

_“Oh my god.” She took another small drink, just for that last bit of courage, then stood up and started undressing. “You get me to do the craziest things,” she mumbled to herself as she shimmied out of all her clothes._

_It felt a little strange to be completely naked while she was completely out in the open like that, in public where, at any moment, anyone could drive by. So she scurried towards the water, covering herself with her hands until she remembered she didn’t really need to. Bellamy had already seen everything. Hell, at this point, he probably knew her body better than even she did._

_“You look so good, you know that?” he said as one of his hands disappeared beneath the surface, probably to stroke his cock._

_“So do you.” She stepped into the water, only making it up to her knees before the chill of it sliced through her bones. “Bellamy!” she shrieked. “You liar! This isn’t warm!”_

_He laughed and reached out for her hand. “Come on, get in deeper,” he said, giving her a gentle tug. “I’ll warm you up.”_

_She followed him into the water, utterly freezing, and bemoaned, “It’s cold.”_

_“Not for long.”_

_She waded in deep enough so that the water was above her chest, then asked, “How wet should I get?”_

_Chuckling, he answered, “Very.”_

_Despite how cold that water was, she knew Bellamy really would heat her up, so she held her breath and sunk down beneath the surface to wet her hair, too. While she was down there, she reached out to touch his cock, just the head of it, and then she teased him by giving his balls a squeeze before she came back up to the surface._

_“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy swore, wrapping his arms around her. He lifted her up, which had never been difficult for him and certainly wasn’t difficult in the water, and she coiled her legs around his waist and draped her arms over his shoulders._

_“Okay, for real, though, I have had a couple drinks,” she said, “so I could drown right now.”_

_“No, I won’t let you,” he said, sliding his hand up her back. Seconds later, she felt his fingers playing with the ends of her wet hair. He smiled at her, a smile she_ swore _he didn’t share with anyone else, and said, “I’m having a really good day.”_

_“Me, too,” she said, wishing every day could be like this one. “I don’t . . .” Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, she felt sort of breathless. “I don’t want it to end.”_

_He gazed at her for several long, intense seconds, and then his mouth found hers, kissing her passionately, deeply, the kind of kiss that was bound to escalate into something more. And she welcomed it. Tightening her arms and legs around him, pressing her chest against his, she reveled in the feeling swirling through her. Whatever it was made her feel so happy and . . . so alive._

_Waves rolled towards them and around them, but they didn’t feel cold anymore._

****

Clarke stayed outside with Bellamy through the rest of the first half of the ballet, and during the intermission, plenty of other people joined them, including Raven and Murphy. After assuring her best friend that everything was fine and getting a snack to eat, she headed back into the theater with all of them and took her seat, ready to watch the rest of the performance. Even though it’d made her cry, she got the sense that it was going to have a happy ending.

Harper continued to be amazing, moving across that stage so fluidly and gracefully that Clarke felt envious. She would have loved to be able to move like that, but the closest she’d ever got to being a dancer was cheerleading.

Only ten or so minutes into the second half of the show, she felt her eyelids growing heavy, and there was nothing she could do to stop them from closing. She was just exhausted and really needed sleep. So she leaned over to the side and rested her head on Bellamy’s shoulder, which in that moment felt as comfortable to her as any bed or pillow ever had. And slowly, she drifted off to sleep.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Spoiler-ish warning if you're not currently caught up with the show)
> 
> I'm just gonna say this here on AO3 once, to get it off my chest, and then be done with it:
> 
> Jason Rothenberg should be ashamed of how he treated Bellamy (and by extension Clarke), of how he treated Bob (and by extension Eliza), and how he treated Bellarke (and by extension, the legacy of the whole damn show). He should be ashamed of how he treated the Bellarke fanbase that kept this show afloat amidst cancellation efforts. He SHOULD be. But he's not. And it's clear that he's not. This was a blatant attempt to obliterate a fandom, but personally, I don't want to give him that satisfaction. I hope that, in time, we can all disconnect this final season from the previous ones and still love the moments that we loved about this show. I feel more motivated to write for these two characters than ever before. After all, they belong to the fan fiction writers now, who have always treated them better anyway and who will no doubt write them more satisfyingly. In fact, I'm currently working on my first ever canon fic, which is set to be a rewrite of seasons 5-7. It's going to be a length process, but I'm really enjoying it so far. You can follow me on Twitter @AprilM7739 for updates on that endeavor, if it's something you're interested in. I may go private on Twitter at any point, so if you want to stay in the loop, following is not a bad idea.
> 
> THANK YOU to all the readers in this fandom, and to all the writers. I know you all care about Bellamy and Clarke as much as I do, and I feel truly blessed if my writing can in any way help anyone through or lessen the hurt right now. Thank you, genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, for all the support over the years. It's meant more than I can ever express.

_Chapter 42_

It was hard for Clarke to squeeze in check-ups every other week when she already had classes and work to balance. Luckily, Dr. Jackson was more than willing to accommodate her, often skipping his lunch break just to have his appointment with her. He was always smiling and always peppy, and Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been a cheerleader in high school, because he certainly had that type of personality.

The bi-weekly check-ups were wreaking havoc with Bellamy’s work schedule, too, but he never missed any of them. Not one single appointment. He always came to campus, picked her up, and drove her to the hospital, and they usually went and got something to eat afterwards. Then he’d drive her back to campus and drop her off right next to her car (if she had to go to work) or right next to whatever building her next class was in.

The check-ups were all pretty standard, and usually they didn’t take very long. Dr. Jackson performed a routine physical exam, asked her how she was feeling, and sometimes drew blood for testing. None of the tests ever came back with any alarming results, so that was good.

The week before Valentine’s Day marked the last week of Clarke’s second trimester, and she was feeling it. Her back hurt so much that she felt like she was breaking in half, and she told her doctor that. He assured her it was normal, and that her leg cramps were normal, too, and that all her little aches and pains were normal. If anything got significantly worse, though, he wanted her to inform him immediately. Or if she started vomiting or feeling faint or bleeding or noticing that the baby was kicking less . . . there was actually a whole long list of things that could have been indicative of some sort of problem, but fortunately, she wasn’t experiencing any of them.

One of the things she liked so much about Dr. Jackson was that he didn’t just focus on the physical aspects of pregnancy. He talked to her about the mental and emotional stuff, too. Almost like a therapist, but not quite so emotionally invasive. He asked her how she was sleeping, probably as a follow-up to the conversation he’d had with Bellamy last week, and she gave him an honest answer. Sleep was still kind of rough. But at least she wasn’t afraid to dream anymore.

“So the nightmares are . . .” Dr. Jackson trailed off.

“Still there, but not as frequent this past week,” she said. “I’ve been sleeping better, and when I do have a bad dream, Bellamy wakes up with me, and I tell him about it.” She looked over at him where he sat on the ‘dad chair,’ as he liked to call it, and smiled at him. “He usually turns it into something funny. And then I feel a whole lot better.”

“Good, good.” Dr. Jackson quickly typed up some quick notes, then asked, “So you feel like you’re getting plenty of rest?”

“Trying to,” she said, touching her stomach. “But I’ve got a little night owl in here.”

The doctor chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to hear things are going better for you. Hard to believe you’re almost in your third trimester, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’ve been pregnant for half a year.”

“You’ve been badass,” Bellamy said with a smirk.

Badass may not have been the right word for it. Although . . . maybe it was. Growing and sheltering an entire other person wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do.

“You’re in the home stretch,” Dr. Jackson said. “How are you feeling about giving birth?”

_That_ freaked her out, honestly. What if she wasn’t badass enough for that? “A little nervous,” she confessed, downplaying her anxiety about the whole thing.

“That’s understandable,” the doctor said. “Have you signed up for any childbirth classes?”

_Oh, crap_ , she thought. A couple of weeks ago, one of her apps had suggested that she do that, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. “No,” she said. “We were going to, but . . . were we supposed to have done that already?”

“Well, most classes require registration six to eight weeks in advance,” Dr. Jackson explained.

“Six to . . . six to eight _weeks_?” she shrieked. “I didn’t know that. I thought you could just show up.” She shot Bellamy a panicked look. “We haven’t registered! What do we do?”

“It’s okay,” Dr. Jackson assured her quickly. “You’re first-time parents. I’ll make sure you get into a class. Are you wanting to do a traditional Lamaze class, or . . .”

“Yes,” she said, not even aware of her options. “What other classes are there?”

“I can give you some resources,” he said. “But Lamaze is always a recommended one.”

“Okay, let’s just do that then.” Lamaze was practically synonymous with childbirth. There had to be a reason why so many people chose it.

“Okay, I’ll get you signed up,” Dr. Jackson said. “It’s also probably about time for you to come up with a birth plan. If you’d like to.”

“A plan?” she echoed. “You can plan giving birth?”

“Well, to be honest, about 54% of first-time mothers say their birth plan goes out the window when they’re in labor,” Dr. Jackson said. “But 46% do report using them.” He opened up a folder, took out a thin packet of paper, and handed it over to her. “Here, take this home,” he said. “Fill out what you can, bring it to your next appointment. We can talk through some of your options and discuss what you’d like to be able to expect. Even if you don’t end up using it, it might put your mind at ease just to know it’s in place.”

Clarke skimmed a couple of the questions, relieved that it didn’t appear to be too overwhelming. It had the hospital logo on top of it, so it must have been a birth plan worksheet geared specifically for their facilities.

“So there’s homework now?” Bellamy said. “I kinda suck at homework. It’s okay, though. She’s good at it.”

She was, always had been, but this wasn’t the kind of homework she could do alone. It was something for them to do together, because even though she was the one who was actually going to push a baby out a few short months from now, he was going to be right there with her. His opinion on the big, terrifying day mattered, too.

Clarke couldn’t very well focus on anatomy class after that appointment. She tried, but she ended up spacing off, so when it came time to tackle her _actual_ homework that evening, she felt like she was up a creek without a paddle. She sat down at the kitchen table, opened up all her half-assed notes, which were no help whatsoever, and her textbook, which was dry as fuck but contained the information she needed to read in order to teach herself what she’d missed out on today.

All she had to do was answer ten questions at the end of the chapter, but five of them were short-answer essay questions, so getting through them was a painstaking process. She’d been at it for about an hour when her mind started to drift again. Sticking out of the top of her notebook was that birth plan worksheet from the hospital. She’d doodled a little _Bellamy & Clarke 4ever!_ on it, with little hearts and everything, which probably made her seem really immature. But she was an artist. Artists doodled.

She knew she should keep going with the science questions. But they just didn’t seem as important as the questions on that worksheet did.

****

_Clarke actively tried to slow herself down during her world history test. For some reason, the teacher had set aside an entire class period for it, but it was just so easy, and Clarke knew that if she finished up early, like she always did, she’d have nothing to do but sit there and wait for everyone else to get done. So she wrote her essay answers down in her nicest handwriting, and she double-checked every multiple choice response, even though she knew they were right._

_Halfway through the class period—and nearly completely through her test—the classroom phone rang, and the teacher picked it up, speaking quietly. “This is Mrs. Brandt,” she said. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She hung up the phone and said, “Clarke.”_

_She looked up from her test._

_“You’re needed in the office,” her teacher told her._

_She felt like every pair of eyes in that class immediately focused in on her, and she tried to ignore them as she flipped her test upside down, got up from her desk, and headed out of the room. Everyone knew what it was about, though. They’d all seen her empty desk yesterday._

_Even though she knew this had to be about missing class, Clarke still tried to convince herself that it could be about something else as she slowly progressed to the office. Maybe she needed lunch money or something. Although that wasn’t likely. Her dad had written one huge check at the beginning of the year to cover the cost through May. Maybe she’d left something at cheer practice and they were just going to have her get it from the lost and found. Except . . . they hadn’t had cheer practice this morning._

_When she walked into the office, the secretary motioned her towards Mrs. Sydney’s door. She opened it, none too thrilled to see her mom sitting there in one of the chairs._

Oh, great. _It was worse than she’d thought._

_“Have a seat, Clarke,” the principal instructed, motioning to the empty chair._

_“What’s going on?” she asked, pretending to be clueless. It was worth a shot._

_“Just do what she says and have a seat,” her mom said sternly. Her face was red, like she was angry._

_Clarke pulled the door shut and sat down in the chair next to her mom, trying to drudge up an excuse not to be in there right now. “I’m in the middle of a test,” she said, even though she was technically at the end of it._

_Mrs. Sydney ignored that and cut straight to the chase. “It seems we have a problem. Our attendance records indicate you missed your last six class periods yesterday. Is there anything you’d like to tell me about that?”_

_Anything she’d_ like _to tell her? “No,” she answered honestly. Her principal didn’t need to know that she and Bellamy had illegally purchased some beers and ended up having sex in the ocean._

_“Mrs. Sydney, is there anything_ you _would like to tell_ me _about why on earth it took you a full day to uncover this?” her mom growled. “We should’ve been dealing with this yesterday, not today.”_

_“I apologize,” the principal said calmly. “Yesterday was . . . hectic. It slipped through the cracks.”_

_“Really?” her mom spat. “I ask you to keep an eye on my daughter, and this is the best you and your staff can do?”_

_“It won’t happen again,” Mrs. Sydney assured her. “Clarke, you weren’t at school yesterday, were you?”_

_There was no point in lying, not when it was so obvious. “Not for the whole day,” she admitted. But hey, she’d still clocked in those first two class periods._

_“When did you leave?”_

_She sighed, with no choice but to own up to it. “After second period.”_

_“And where did you go?”_

_“Out.”_

_“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” her mom said. “We both know what happened. Bellamy convinced her to skip school, so they just took off and went somewhere.”_

_“I wasn’t with Bellamy,” she said, hoping to cover for him, if possible. Maybe, by some freak chance, his teachers had forgotten to mark him absent._

_“Clarke, there’s no need to lie,” Mrs. Sydney said. “We know he wasn’t here, either.”_

_So they were both caught. Not surprising, but when no one had alerted her parents to her absence yesterday, she’d kind of let herself get her hopes up and believe they’d gotten away with it. “Well, it wasn’t his idea,” she said. “It was mine.”_

_Her mom made a face. “Honey, you don’t have to fall down on the sword for this boy.”_

_“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m telling the truth,” she said. “That’s what you guys want, isn’t it?” She wasn’t going to let Bellamy shoulder any more of the blame for it than he had to. “It was my idea to cut class. So we did.”_

_“It really doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” Mrs. Sydney said. “Ultimately, you both violated school policy by leaving the way you did, and that comes with a consequence. Two days in-school suspension. For both of you.”_

In school suspension? _Clarke had never even gotten detention before, let alone a suspension of any kind._

_“I don’t want them serving those suspensions on the same days,” her mother said._

_“They won’t,” Mrs. Sydney assured her._

Of course not, _Clarke thought bitterly._ Gotta keep us apart at all times. _Didn’t they understand that they wouldn’t have even felt the need to skip school if they were just allowed to see each other? To sit at the same lunch table together? To walk down the hallway holding hands?_

_“Can I get back to class now?” she said, eager to get out of there. The irony of a classroom being her escape right now when it’d felt like a prison yesterday was not lost on her._

_“That’s probably a good idea,” her principal said._

_Clarke pushed her chair back and sprang to her feet, hustling out the door. Once she was back in the halls, though, she stopped, feeling like she needed to just calm down for a minute. She was pissed and even a little embarrassed to have gotten caught. If she went back to class and tried to finish that test now, she might not do her best work._

_She ended up walking outside, even though that technically wasn’t allowed. What were they gonna do, suspend her even more?_

_It wasn’t as warm out as it had been yesterday, so she rubbed her arms and shivered. Even though it was chilly and breezy, it still felt better outside than it had in that office with her mom. She felt like she could breathe out here, but in there, it’d been suffocating._

_“Why are you out here?”_

_She winced when she heard her mom’s voice, and suddenly, even the outdoors felt a bit stuffy. “Because I need some air,” she said._

_“And here I thought you were skipping again.”_

_She spun around, huffing, “I cut six classes. It’s not the end of the world.”_

_Her mom narrowed her eyes at her and shook her head disappointedly. “What’s wrong with you?”_

_“Nothing!” she said in exasperation. “I’m just sick of you trying to control my life!”_

_“I never had to back when you were dating Wells.”_

_Wells again? What did it take to get it through her brain that there was no hope of that happening again? “I’m not getting back together with him, Mom.”_

_“Well, you should,” her mom said. “He’s smart and driven and . . . everything Bellamy isn’t.”_

_Clarke immediately felt the need to jump to her boyfriend’s defense. “You don’t even know Bellamy!” she yelled._

_“Oh, I think I do.”_

_“No, you don’t!” To stand there and say that Bellamy wasn’t smart and wasn’t driven was such an insult, one he didn’t deserve. “You’ve created this vision of him in your mind, because you’ve always had it out for him. But if you really knew him, you’d know that—that he loves his mom more than anything in the world. That there’s a guy here at school who would be bullied mercilessly right now if Bellamy hadn’t taken him under his wing. That he’s trying to get his grades up just to seem a little bit more redeemable to you.” That was only the tip of the iceberg, too. There was so much more about Bellamy that she didn’t see and didn’t know existed. “He’s a good guy, and I . . . I really like him.”_

_“You’re better than him!” her mom shouted, louder than Clarke had ever heard her get at school. Or in any public place, really._

Oh my god, _Clarke thought, staring at her in utter disbelief. Had she really just said that? Did she even hear herself right now?_ Better _than him? Why? Why on earth would she be better? Because she had straight A’s? Because they had money? Because she was going to get scholarships for her grades?_

_It was more than frustrating at this point, hearing her mom rag on her boyfriend like this. More than aggravating, more than annoying. It was downright cruel._

_It was Clarke’s turn to be disappointed now, because this woman standing in front of her . . . this was the worst version of her mother. This was not the same person who had raised her to be compassionate and kind. This was someone she felt ashamed to even be seen with, so she stormed past her and headed back inside the school._

****

Despite the fact that her grade point average was still a 4.0, Clarke felt like she’d been such a better student in high school. Getting through this homework right now was painstaking, and the more she let her mind drift to other things, the more impossible and daunting it seemed. She set the birth plan worksheet back down, knowing she still had plenty of time to do that. But knowing that didn’t make it feel like any less of a priority.

“Laundry’s all in,” Bellamy said, emerging from the room next to the coat closet with an empty hamper in hand. “I hope I don’t turn everything pink.”

“Did you put the reds in with the darks?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then it should be fine.” If something did turn pink, though, she hoped it was one of his sweatshirts. Bellamy in a pink sweatshirt would be adorable.

It didn’t appear that he had much to do when he sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, so she picked up the worksheet from the hospital again and asked him, “You wanna work on this birth plan? I need a break from my other homework.”

Immediately, he lowered the volume on the TV, to the point where it was nearly muted. “Sure,” he said. “Although I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Are we supposed to do it together?”

“I don’t know. But I want to.” She slid to the edge of her chair and pushed herself up—that was how she had to stand nowadays, because it wasn’t so easy to just lean forward anymore—and joined him on the couch with the worksheet and her anatomy textbook. The textbook was only so she’d have something to write on; she didn’t intend to open it for the rest of the night. The time for traditional homework had passed.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Bellamy said, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

At the top of the worksheet was a space for her name, so she put that in. But then she put Avery’s name in parenthesis, because it was technically a plan for the baby, too. Then she began reading: “‘Attendants. I’d like the following people to be present during labor and/or birth.’” The worksheet listed lines for her to write in the names of various people. The first was Partner, but after that were lines for friends and relatives. “Just you,” she decided quickly, filling in his name.

“Just me?” he echoed.

“Yeah.”

“Not your mom or anything?”

She snorted at that. “No way. Can you imagine her in the delivery room? She’d try to take over for Dr. Jackson. No thanks.” If she hadn’t had Bellamy, _then_ maybe she’d have her mom by her side, just so she wouldn’t be alone. But even then, Raven would have perhaps been a better option. “‘I’d like to . . . bring music?’” she read on questioningly.

“Oh, yeah, let’s blast some Tupac,” Bellamy joked.

“‘Dim the lights, wear my own clothes . . .’” She made a face. “I don’t want any of this stuff.” She left those boxes unchecked and pointed out the last one on the list to him. “Oh, and look at this one.”

Bellamy leaned over and read, “‘Take pictures and video during the delivery.’”

“Um, no. Murphy’s not getting any footage of this.” Pictures afterward were totally fine, even though she’d probably look like crap. Once Avery was born, she wanted loads of pictures and videos. But she never needed to go back and see footage of herself actually pushing the baby out. In her health class freshman year, they’d had to watch a birth video, and it’d been traumatizing.

She checked the box that said she wanted her partner to be allowed to stay with her at all times, which was pretty much a no-brainer, then said, “I feel like some of this is stuff I have to talk to the doctor about.” There were terms on there she didn’t recognize, despite the medical biology classes she’d taken.

“Yeah, sure,” Bellamy said.

“Like all these labor props,” she said. “A birthing stool? A squatting bar? A birthing _tub_? What even is this stuff?”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy replied with a shrug. “I’d Google it, but who knows what would come up.”

She flipped to the next page and laughed nervously. “Oh, look, they have a whole section devoted to pain relief.” To this day, she had no idea how the woman in the birth video she’d seen had been so calm.

“Are you gonna take drugs?” Bellamy asked her.

“I’m not sure.” She’d done a little reading about the pros and cons, but nothing had completely convinced her yet. “I mean, I’d love to be able to tough it out and just go the natural route, but . . . ow. What do you think?”

“It’s completely up to you.”

Yeah, that was what everything she read said, that there was no right or wrong method of giving birth, that a woman should always feel supported in whatever decision she made. “Well, with an epidural, they, like, numb you from the waist down,” she said. “Which sounds great, in theory, but then supposedly it makes the pushing part of the labor longer.” Maybe it was better to just push for a shorter amount of time and get it done?

“What’s your mom think?” he asked.

“Well, she had a natural labor, so of course she thinks I should try to have a natural labor, too. But I don’t know.”

“Just mark this box then,” he said, pointing to the one that said she’d request pain relief if needed.

“Okay.” She put a checkmark through the box and went on to the next section. “Pushing . . . I have no idea. Positions for pushing . . . I didn’t even know you could do anything other than just lay there.” Those were definitely things to talk to Dr. Jackson about. She’d just assumed it would play out like in the movies, where she’d be semi-reclining with her legs in the air, screaming her head off while she pushed a whole little human out of her. “Vaginal Birth,” she said, progressing to the next page. “Kay, that’s what we’re going for. ‘During delivery, I’d like to . . . view the birth using a mirror?’” She shook her head adamantly. “ _No_. No way. None of these. I just wanna push and get her out.”

“What about this one?” Bellamy questioned, pointing to the last one on the list.

“‘My partner to help catch our baby,’” she read. Smiling at him, she asked, “Do you wanna do that?”

“I don’t know what that is,” he admitted.

“Well, it’s like, when the baby comes out, you’re the first one to hold her.” She’d seen a video of that online, a non-graphic, non-terrifying video, and it’d been pretty sweet.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Yeah.” Some women caught their own babies, but Clarke didn’t think she’d be coherent or coordinated enough for that in the moment.

“Well, I mean, I was a football player,” he pointed out, “so I can catch.”

“Yeah, you have good hands,” she agreed. She loved the thought of it, actually, of his hands being the first thing Avery felt as she came into the world, him being the first person ever to hold her.

“But what if you need me to stay up with you?” he said. “Or what if I pass out or screw something up?”

She doubted he’d pass out, but if he did, he’d hardly be the first father in the world to do so. “Let’s just mark this as a maybe then,” she said, jotting down a question mark next to the box. “I want you to cut the umbilical cord, though. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

So even if he didn’t get to catch the baby, he’d at least get to do that. That was a symbolic thing, too. “C-Section . . .” she went on, shuddering. “Don’t even wanna think about that.” The only way she’d end up having a C-Section was if something went wrong. “Postpartum . . .” She trailed off as she surveyed the various boxes under that section. It was an unpleasant word, mostly associated with postpartum depression, but really, it was all about what happened after the delivery.

“What?” Bellamy said.

“I just started thinking . . .” In the movies, it was always so simple. The baby was born, and the mom got to hold it. And usually it was all cleaned off and happy and healthy, and the mom was happy and healthy, too. “What if something goes wrong,” she fretted, “and I’m not . . .” She didn’t exactly want to vocalize it, but what if something happened and she wasn’t able to make decisions?

“No, nothing’s gonna go wrong,” Bellamy assured her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

“But what if it does?” It wasn’t common, and it wasn’t fun to think about, but it was a possibility. “Bellamy, you have to stay with her,” she said. “If they take her somewhere, you have to leave me and go. You have to be with her the whole time, even if I can’t be there.”

“Clarke, nothing’s gonna happen to you,” he insisted.

“I know. I know, but for some reason, if it does, you have to promise . . .” She swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes. “Promise me you won’t leave her.”

The excited gleam that had been in Bellamy’s eyes for every other question on that worksheet had faded, replaced now by something a lot more somber. “I promise,” he said.

“She has to stay with you.” Her heart pounded heavily in her chest and her mind spun as she thought about how easy it might be for the world to tear them apart if she was . . . well, if she was gone. Right now, she was the link between Bellamy and Avery, despite how much he loved her, despite what a good father he already was. If she didn’t make it through the delivery, she had to make sure Bellamy would be the one to take care of her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke knew her mom’s window of time for lunch was pretty small, so she left one of her classes early to get to the hospital and catch her during it. The hospital cafeteria was relatively empty, with only her mom and two other people in there eating. The two others sat together, talking quietly, but her mom sat by herself, reading while she ate.

“Hey, Mom,” Clarke said as she approached the table.

Her mom glanced up from her book and said, “Hi.” She sounded surprised when she asked, “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m on my lunch break, too,” Clarke fibbed. “Thought I’d swing by.” It wasn’t like she’d be missing anything in her stats class anyway. It was a stupid general education class she’d neglected to take last year and simply had to get out of the way now. And it was so easy, she had no problem basically just teaching herself the content.

Her mother closed her book— _The DaVinci Code_ , as it turned out—and asked, “Do you want something to eat?” as she motioned towards the food counter. “They can charge me for it here.”

“No, thanks.” Clarke’s stomach churned as she looked at the mystery meat on her mom’s plate. “I may be constantly hungry, but even _I’m_ not hungry enough for hospital food.”

“Well, here, have my fortune cookie at least,” her mom said, handing over the plastic-wrapped treat.

Clarke tore it open, broke the cookie, and took out the small paper inside. “‘Your sports team will be very successful this year,’” she read. “Great.” Did she even have a sports team? Did she even care?

Her mom moved some food around on her plate and nudged her unused spoon towards Clarke, as if to encourage her to try some. “So how’d your appointment go yesterday?” she asked. “Everything go smoothly?”

“Yeah. Dr. Jackson’s gonna try to get us into a Lamaze class,” Clarke replied.

“Oh, yeah, we run one through the hospital. The same girl who teaches your prenatal yoga is the head instructor for it.”

Clarke pictured Luna with her curly hair and unfair body and mumbled, “She’s intimidatingly beautiful.”

“She’s good at her job, though. You’ll like the class,” her mom assured her.

Lamaze definitely seemed to have been the best bet. Clarke had looked up a few birthing class alternatives last night, and some of them just sounded . . . kind of out there. Like hypnosis stuff. Maybe it worked for some people, but she doubted it would work for her. Lamaze would be good preparation for what was to come. And then there was . . .

Well, then there was still the _after_.

“Bellamy and I started filling out a birth plan last night,” she blurted, not even bothering to try to find a segue into the topic.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” For the most part, it’d been fun. For the most part.

“Can I see it?” her mom asked.

There was no way she was letting her mom see her birth plan. That was for her eyes and Bellamy’s eyes and Dr. Jackson’s eyes only. “Well, we’re not done yet,” she said. Which technically wasn’t a lie. But when they were done, she still wasn’t showing her mother. She just felt like that would lead to her lecturing about all the things that were wrong with it. “Hey, Mom?” she said quietly.

“What?”

As much as she wanted to keep the birth plan stuff quiet, there was one thing they needed to discuss. One very important thing. “I know it’s kind of morbid to think about, but . . . what if something happens to me?” she wondered aloud. “Either during the delivery or after? What would happen to Avery if I’m not around?”

Her mom immediately tensed up and took in a deep, shaky breath. “Well, Marcus and I would make sure she’s taken care of, of course,” she promised. “Always.”

Clarke nodded, figuring as much. But that wasn’t what she was curious about. “But what about Bellamy?”

For a few seconds, her mom didn’t say anything. She was probably having to bite her tongue and contain her immediate reaction. Lately, she’d really been trying to be nicer about him. “What would you want?” she asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t want Finn to get custody of her. He hasn’t been a father at all,” Clarke said, starting with the obvious. “But Bellamy has been and . . .” She trailed off, feeling like she didn’t need to say anything more.

Her mother nodded slowly, understanding. “You’d want Avery to stay with him,” she said.

She didn’t want it to come to that, but if it did . . . “Yes,” she said. “It’s not . . . it’s nothing _against_ you. And I’m sure he’d still want you and Kane and Dad to be involved. But I want her to have a father. And Bellamy loves her so much.” She’d do whatever she had to do and fill out whatever forms she had to fill out beforehand to make sure that that was what would happen if something bad happened to her.

“Well, let’s not even think about this,” her mom said, reaching across the table to put her hand on top of Clarke’s. “Because you’re gonna be fine.”

Well . . . it hadn’t turned into an argument. So that was good. Her mother may not have expressed 100% support for her decision, but she hadn’t opposed it, either. It was progress, and Clarke would take it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Sorry dinner was such a bust,” Bellamy’s mom apologized as she got up from the table. She took his empty plate from in front of him before he could even start to clean up after himself.

“No, it was fine,” he said, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Nice of Octavia to show.”

“She told me she might be busy.”

He grunted, kind of pissed that his sister wasn’t there.

“Cut her some slack,” his mom said as she started to fill up the sink with water in order to do the dishes. “She’s in college and in love. She’s got her own thing going on now.”

“Well, I got a pregnant girlfriend,” he pointed out, “and I’m still here.” In fact, his pregnant girlfriend probably would have come with him had it not been for a pre-planned girls night with Raven and Harper.

“You’re a good son,” his mom said.

“Your favorite child, right?” he joked.

“I don’t have a favorite,” she claimed.

“But if you did, it’d be me.” He smirked.

“I love you both equally,” she insisted.

“Sure, sure.” He got up from the table, feeling very full and very ready to just hit the hay for the night. But he wanted to help her with the dishes, so he joined her at the sink and picked up a towel for drying. “Hey, Mom, you mind if I ask you about something?” he said. They’d spent the majority of the meal talking about Clarke’s doctor visits, and the nursery he was still working on, and even a little about his job. But there had been something else on his mind, too.

“About what?” she asked, sliding the dirty dishes into the sink.

“Well . . .” He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it, so he hesitated, shifting around a bit before finally delving in for some answers. “When I was growing up, did you have a backup plan for what would happen to me if you ever . . . weren’t around?”

“Of course,” she said as she began scrubbing off one of their dinner plates.

“So would I have gone to Grandma or . . . my dad?”

She froze what she was doing for a moment, then said, “No. Your dad was never an option,” and resumed scrubbing the dishes. This time harder.

“So Grandma then,” he surmised.

“Yes.”

Made sense. Back then, his grandmother had still lived in Arkadia. He’d seen her a lot growing up. “And you don’t think my dad would’ve disputed that at all?” he asked.

“No,” she muttered. “Not your dad.”

That man was such an eternal mystery to Bellamy, one he didn’t care to figure out, to be honest. His mom had dropped enough hints over the years for him to conclude that the guy wasn’t a good guy. Not only had he been a deadbeat who’d left her to fend for herself with a kid, but Bellamy got the sense he’d been kind of . . . cruel? Or maybe just self-centered. He hoped to God the guy had never been abusive, either physically or mentally. But his fear of that was one of the things that kept him from ever prying deeper.

“Why the sudden curiosity?” she asked, handing a clean plate over to him.

“No reason,” he said, lazily drying it off. Obviously there was a reason, and his mom wasn’t stupid. She’d sense that.

“Is Clarke getting her ducks in a row?” she asked, stopping what she was doing.

He looked down, hating to even think about it. Last night, when she’d brought it up, he’d tried to act like it didn’t bother him to picture a future without her in it, but of course it did.

“It’s smart,” his mom said. “It’s not pleasant to think about, but it has to be done.”

Yeah, he knew that, but still . . . he hadn’t really given it much thought until now. “She wants me to have custody if anything happens,” he said.

His mom nodded and asked, “And is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” he said. He and Clarke were on the same page there, no doubt about that. “But I feel like it’d get messy no matter what, because I’m not the biological father, and . . . I’m no blood relation at all, actually.” He’d lain awake for a long time last night wondering what would happen if Finn decided he wanted custody, or if Abby challenged him on it. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Hopefully any worrying he was doing was for nothing.

“If that’s what Clarke wants, then I think that’s what would happen,” his mom said. “In a worst case scenario.”

He exhaled heavily, nodding, trying not to dwell on it too much. It wasn’t a _likely_ case scenario, but he’d still gone ahead and made the mistake of looking up maternal mortality rates last night, and that’d scared the shit out of him. “You know, it’d be a whole lot simpler if she and I just got married,” he said, intent on gauging his mom’s reaction to that idea.

Her eyebrows rose up a bit, but other than that, she didn’t look very surprised to hear him mention that word. “Is that something you’ve talked about?” she inquired.

“No,” he admitted. “But I think about it sometimes. I mean, we’re gonna get married someday. That’s obvious, right?”

“It’s obvious,” she agreed.

“Yeah, so why wait? We could just get married before the baby’s born, and then my name could be on the birth certificate and . . .” He pictured himself listed as her father, her legally recognized father, and it was a picture he liked. A lot. “She could be Avery Blake,” he said. Even the name just sounded good.

“Well, do you have a ring?” his mom asked.

“No.”

“Have any idea when you’re gonna ask her?”

“Not yet.” For all he knew, it’d end up being a spontaneous thing.

“But you’re going to?”

He took in a deep breath and let it out with a smile on his face. “Yeah.” Sometime in the not too distant future, he was going to ask Clarke Griffin to marry him.

Her mom put her hand over her mouth, and her eyes got all watery. When she removed her hand, she was smiling back at him, looking so happy for him, and she put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.

It felt good to hear that. His mom had always been proud of him, even back when his only accomplishments had been football-related. But what he was doing nowadays with Clarke was just so much . . . more. So much more important. His mom had a real reason to be proud of him now.


	43. Chapter 43

_Chapter 43_

Clarke unwrapped one of the Hershey’s kisses candies Murphy had brought over and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm,” she said, savoring the chocolate taste as it melted in her mouth. “I have to say, Murphy, you were the last person I expected to get kisses from on Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, feel honored,” he said as he bent down behind his camera to do his videographer thing, probably checking to see if the lighting and angles and focus were right. “I’ve been told my kisses are delicious.”

She made a face and shook her head.

“They are,” he insisted, messing around with his camera for a moment before sitting down beside it and whipping out his phone, where he’d stored his questions for today’s interview. “Okay, we’re filming. What time do we need to be done?”

“No later than 3:00,” she said. “I gotta have plenty of time to get ready for tonight. Bellamy’s taking me out on a date.”

“Real romantic shit, I bet,” he muttered.

“Of course.” Valentine’s Day was commercial as fuck, but it was still a romantic holiday, one for couples. “Aren’t you doing something nice for Raven?”

Murphy shrugged. “We usually just stay in. I give her a back massage, and she gives me . . .” He trailed off momentarily, then obviously lied when he finished up with, “A foot rub.”

“I’m sure.” Clarke wasn’t one to judge, though. Hell, if she chickened out on the sexy stuff she had planned for Bellamy, a blow-job would suffice.

“Hey, when you’ve been together for a couple years, the novelty of Valentine’s Day starts to wear off. It becomes more of a chore than anything else,” Murphy said. “But I get why you and Bellamy are going all out. What is this, only your second Valentine’s Day together?”

“Well . . . kind of,” she replied. They’d managed to spend Valentine’s Day together in high school, but this was the first one where they were free to spend it the way they wanted to.

****

_While Raven excitedly chirped, “Here, come buy a balloon for someone special!” and ushered people over to the table, Clarke halfheartedly waved her deflated helium balloon around in the air, not saying anything._

_“Come on, Clarke, turn that frown upside down,” Raven urged her. “We’re supposed to be selling stuff.”_

_“Sorry,” she apologized. “I guess I’m just not in the holiday mood.” It didn’t help that she’d been sitting out at this table for three class periods in a row, either. And now lunch. She was skipping lunch to sit out in the cafeteria and sell Valentine’s Day crap._

_“Well, you need to fake it better, because these balloons are paying for our state cheer hotel,” Raven reminded her. “God knows the school won’t do that, because we’re ‘not a sport.’” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Whatever. Fuck the school. We can pay for ourselves.”_

_Clarke wasn’t about to say anything, but . . . she didn’t need to fundraise. In fact, her parents could probably pay for every cheerleader’s hotel expense at state. They hadn’t offered, but she also hadn’t asked. Raven wouldn’t want to feel like a charity case, and she doubted any other girl on the squad would, either._

_Zeke approached the table with his lunch tray in hand, stopped in front of Raven, and asked, “Can I buy a kiss?”_

_“Oh, you get that for free,” she said, tilting her head back. He bent down and kissed her, and it was sort of . . . nauseatingly sweet._

_Clarke felt so jealous. It just wasn’t fair. Why was it okay for Raven and Zeke to be a couple, but it wasn’t okay for her and Bellamy? Why was Raven’s dad so chill about it while her mom and dad were so overprotective?_

_“For real, though, you should buy something,” Raven told him. “For me.”_

_“Maybe I already did.” He smirked and headed off to his lunch table._

_“You’re such a good boyfriend,” she called after him. Licking her lips as she watched him, she said, “God, Clarke, look at him. Isn’t he cute?”_

_“He is,” Clarke agreed._

_“Such marriage material.” Raven smiled._

_“Whoa.” Clarke wasn’t surprised to hear her friend say that, but still . . . that was a leap going from Valentine’s Day balloons to a wedding ring._

_“What? I’m just saying . . . we’re gonna be together forever,” Raven stated confidently. “I know the stats don’t bode well for high school sweethearts, but Zeke and I are gonna last.”_

_Were there actually any stats for that sort of thing? If there were, Clarke didn’t care to look them up. It was probably just discouraging._

_“And I’m sure you and Bellamy will, too,” Raven added. Looking around the lunchroom, she asked, “Where is he, by the way?”_

_“Serving his in-school suspension,” Clarke answered. He wasn’t allowed out of the office all day._

_“Oh. When’s yours?”_

_“Monday.” She wasn’t looking forward to it. But at least she’d have time to get some drawing done._

_“I know you got caught, but I kind of love that you guys just took off like that,” Raven said. “It’s very Bonnie and Clyde. You know, without the bank robberies.”_

_“And the murder spree,” Clarke added._

_“I mean it, though, you know. You guys are gonna make it.”_

_For a second, Clarke let herself picture that, a relationship with Bellamy that didn’t have to end when the summer did, but she had to erase the fantasy from her mind as quickly as it appeared. “Thanks for saying that, but . . . I knew what I was getting into when I started seeing him,” she said._

_Raven frowned. “What do you mean?”_

_Clarke knew she and her best friend had talked about this, but it’d been months ago, and Raven had probably assumed that something had changed. “We’re not gonna do the long distance thing,” Clarke told her. “When he leaves for college . . . that’s it. It’s over.”_

_Raven actually laughed. “Yeah, right.”_

_“I’m serious.” She’d been bracing herself for the break-up for a while now, because when it happened, she wanted to be ready for it. That way, it wouldn’t devastate her. “Neither one of us expects anything more. That’s why we’ve just been trying to make the most out of the time we have.” Of course, her mother’s restrictions were making that extremely difficult._

_“But Bellamy’s never been with a girl as long as he’s been with you,” Raven said, turning her whole body towards Clarke. “And he’s never fallen so hard. You’re . . . you’re special to him.”_

_Maybe she was, but . . . that didn’t mean . . . that wasn’t enough to . . . “Yeah, we’re really into each other,” Clarke said, pausing to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, “but we both knew it wasn’t gonna last forever.”_

_Raven’s frown returned, and this time, it intensified. “So . . . what, when the time comes, you’re just gonna let him go?”_

_Clarke knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but what was she supposed to do, get all clingy and beg him to stay with her, even though he’d be onto bigger and better things? Even though he’d be surrounded by beautiful girls in college? Even though he’d be miles and miles away? “Yeah,” she said, feeling like, as hard as it would be to let him go, it’d be easier than trying to hold on._

_The look on Raven’s face was an incredulous one. “Why would you?” she said, shaking her head. Before she could say anything else, though, someone approached the table to buy a balloon, and like the relentless cheerleader she was, she put a smile on her face and got back into saleswoman mode._

_Clarke just sat there, feeling as deflated as the balloon in her hand. It wasn’t going to be possible to get Raven to understand that she didn’t_ want _to let Bellamy go; she had to._

****

The Valentine’s Day talk had caused Murphy to deviate from his questions, but he started in on them after Clarke got done griping that her mom had forbidden her from attending the Sweetheart Dance sophomore year, all in the name of her last-ditch effort to keep her and Bellamy apart.

“Alright, so I know the last time we sat down, you said the in-between years aren’t as important,” he said, “but I can’t help but think that’s probably when you realized you were in love with him. Am I right?”

That question was a lot . . . bigger than the other ones had been. What she’d felt for Bellamy during all these years without him . . . it was something she’d tried not to dwell on, but also something she’d never been able to ignore. That was why it hadn’t worked out between her and Lexa, and why she’d settled for Finn for two years. She’d tried really hard to just move on, but it’d never worked. “Yeah,” she said. “It, uh . . . it wasn’t too long after he’d left that I started to realize . . . just how much I missed him.” She thought back to the nights that she’d cried herself to sleep, muffling the sounds in her pillow so her mom and dad wouldn’t hear. “And it was like there was this ache in my heart. I didn’t wanna go out on dates with anyone else. I didn’t wanna . . . I didn’t want another boyfriend. I just wanted to pick up the phone to call him.”

Murphy set his phone down, seemingly abandoning any other pre-planned questions, and eyeballed her curiously as he posed the next logical one. “So why didn’t you?”

She’d come close. There had been nights when, after the tears had subsided, she’d picked up the phone and stared at his name on the screen for a long, long time. “He had his own thing going on,” she said. “The college thing. I didn’t wanna be a nuisance.”

“But didn’t you think he’d wanna hear from you?”

Maybe he would have. In fact, knowing what she knew now about _his_ feelings, she knew he would have. But back then, she hadn’t known, and she hadn’t wanted to assume and get her hopes up. “I didn’t wanna jeopardize what he was doing there,” she said.

“Why would just talking to you jeopardize anything?”

“Well, I was—I was worried he’d come back if . . .” She trailed off, feeling like she wasn’t doing a good job of explaining. But it was hard to explain why she’d felt the way she had and why she’d done the things she did back then. It’d been a complicated time in her life, to say the least. “I just didn’t wanna get in the way of his football dreams,” she said.

Murphy nodded slowly, narrowed his eyes, then said, “So . . . knowing what you know now, and knowing that he didn’t end up playing college football for more than a year, is there any part of you that wishes he’d come back sooner?”

She didn’t . . . she didn’t _resent_ him if was what he was asking. But selfishly . . . “Well, yeah, of course I . . . I wish we hadn’t missed out on all those years,” she confessed. “But at the time, I wasn’t . . . I had a lot of other stuff going on, and I started college myself, and it’s probably better that we both took time to grow and mature before getting back together.”

Murphy looked like he wanted to keep questioning her about it, but she didn’t want to talk about any more of her time _apart_ from Bellamy. That wasn’t even what this film of his was supposed to be about. “Can we talk about how we got back together instead?” she asked him, eager to move the conversation forward. “Because that’s kind of the best part.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was this little restaurant at the end of Main Street that had gone through many changes over the years. Bellamy first remembered it being called Lily’s when he was growing up, and back then it’d been the kind of place to serve stick-to-your-ribs Midwestern meals. But then sometime when he’d been in junior high, someone else had bought it out and renamed it Seawise and practically had ruined the place’s reputation with all that awful seafood. There had been a Chinese food phase towards the end of high school, and he’d heard that it had changed owners several times in the past couple of years, too. Right now, it was called Little Italy, and as the name suggested, it was all about the Italian food. Bellamy figured he couldn’t go wrong with pasta on Valentine’s Day, and apparently a lot of other guys had come to the same conclusion, because the place was packed with couples.

He got full before Clarke did and couldn’t even finish everything on his plate. But she could, no problem. She even asked the waiter for more breadsticks and a dessert menu.

“So is it good?” he asked, watching her devour . . . everything.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” she said, twisting the spaghetti noodles around her fork. “We’ll have to come here again.”

Fine by him. The food was decent and the restaurant was nice. Plus, he needed to take her out on more dates, especially before the baby was born.

The gift he’d given her when he’d gotten home dangled from her slim wrist, a gold bracelet that he’d had engraved with the word _Princess_. It was a little big, but not to the point where it was falling off. And she really seemed to have liked it. “That bracelet looks nice on you,” he told her.

“I love it,” she said, smiling at him. “Good gift.”

Yeah, it wasn’t bad. But still . . . he felt like he could have gotten her more.

When he heard a squeal of excitement, he looked over to the other side of the restaurant, where another young couple was dining at a table for two. Except food seemed to be the last thing on their minds, because in the girl’s hand was a small box. Crying happily, she nodded and kept saying ,”Yes,” over and over again. Her boyfriend reached across the table and slid the ring onto her finger.

“I think that girl likes her gift, too,” Bellamy said.

Clarke followed his gaze in that direction and said, “Aww,” as the couple leaned across the table and kissed. A few people around them clapped and offered them their congratulations, but the girl was crying so many happy tears that she could barely even get a coherent “thank you” out.

“I bet a lot of people get engaged on Valentine’s Day,” Clarke said.

“Yeah.” He returned his attention to her, just her, while she kept looking over to the other side of the restaurant. _What’s she thinking?_ he wondered. Was she envious? Did she want that to be her? Or was she not even thinking about herself at all?

 _I could ask her_ , he thought, feeling a surge of courage. _I could ask her right now_. “Clarke . . .”

Slowly, she tore her eyes away from the newly-engaged couple and met his again.

Hell, what was he thinking? He didn’t even have a ring yet. And he couldn’t very well ask her to marry him right after some other couple had just gotten engaged. He couldn’t take anything away from their moment. So he covered it up with, “You got some . . .” and motioned to the small speckle of marinara sauce on her chin.

Wiping it away, she mumbled, “God, I’m such a pig,” and then resumed eating.

 _And I’m such an idiot_ , he thought. It was time to sit down and form an actual plan for popping the question to Clarke. Because it wasn’t something he’d get a second chance at, so he had to make sure it was perfect and everything she’d ever hoped it would be. Maybe the restaurant proposal had worked for that couple over there, but when he asked Clarke to marry him, he wanted it to be just the two of them. More intimate, more private.

Clarke enjoyed the hell out of chocolate mousse for dessert before they left and headed home. She put on a big show about feeling so tired, but her eyes gave her away. They had a frisky, mischievous look in them, so it was no surprise that they headed straight upstairs to the bedroom once they arrived home.

“Now I get to give you _my_ present,” she said, taking off her jacket. Well, it was actually his jacket, but it looked better on her.

“Ooh. I’m intrigued,” he said.

“You should be.” She stepped out of her shoes as well, and reached behind her back to pull down the zipper of her dress. “I had hoped to wear a sexy costume, of course,” she said, “but as it turns out, they don’t really make Cupid outfits for pregnant people.”

“That’s okay.” Screw the Cupid outfit. As long as she got naked at some point tonight, he was happy.

She walked across the room, opened up one of the dresser drawers, and rummaged around for a few seconds for . . . props? They were using props now? When she spun back around, she had a cheap-looking plastic bow and arrow in her hand. “But I did get this!” she revealed, aiming it at him. She tried to fire one of the arrows, but it went about three inches and dropped on the floor. “Oh, wait,” she said, bending down to pick it up. But she couldn’t do that with her belly in the way. “Dammit.”

“Here, I got it,” he said, retrieving it for her. He pretended to stab it into his chest and played along. “Oh, right in the heart.”

She laughed and exclaimed, “You’ve been hit! By Cupid’s arrow.”

“Ah, I got hit a long time ago,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. It was definitely a lot harder to put his arms around her these days, but not impossible.

“Mmm,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck, “you’re gonna get lucky.”

“I sense that.”

“No, I mean . . . _really_ lucky,” she emphasized.

Well, that sounded promising, but he didn’t want his mind to run too wild with ideas, so he asked, “Meaning?””

“Meaning . . . remember that New Year’s resolution you made?”

His heart almost stopped. “No way.” The anal sex one? He sure as hell hadn’t forgotten about it, but he’d kind of assumed she had.

Slipping away from his embrace, she went over to the nightstand, pulled open the drawer, and took out a small bottle of lube. The Astroglide. That was the good stuff. “I think you’re gonna need some of this,” she said, tossing it to him.

He was so excited, he almost didn’t even catch it. “Are you serious?”

“Yep,” she said, grinning. “Just let me take a shower first.” And with that, she was off, into the bathroom, shutting the door. He heard the water start to run a few minutes later, and at that point, he was still standing there like a deer caught in the headlights. Like a very horny, very perverted deer whose favorite holiday was suddenly Valentine’s Day.

Bellamy got undressed in a hurry, turned his phone off so there would be no interruptions, and lubed his dick up generously. The last time he and Clarke had done this, she’d ended up in tears, and they’d stopped in the middle of it because it was hurting her so much. He didn’t want a repeat of that.

 _Go slow_ , Bellamy reminded himself, cycling through his mental archive of every anal sex guide he’d ever read online. _Talk her through it. Play with her clit_. There were a lot of things he’d neglected to do back in high school, because he’d made the mistake of using porn as his educational material. But real anal sex was different than that, and he’d been an idiot to ever think it would be like in the movies.

When Clarke emerged from the bathroom, her skin still had droplets of water on it. Her short hair was halfway up, and only the tips of it appeared to be wet. She had a white towel wrapped around herself, but almost immediately, she let it fall to the floor. “Now I know last time we did this, I was a little . . . emotional,” she acknowledged.

“And I was inexperienced,” he admitted.

She swayed towards him, big belly and all, her eyes focused on his erection. “But I know what to expect now,” she said.

He stroked himself, adding, “And I’ve had a lot more practice.”

She stopped right in front of him and folded her arms. “Define _a lot_.”

“Just a handful of girls.”

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, she pressed on with, “Define _a handful_.”

“I don’t know, I’d have to check my list.” Did they still have that thing?

“Oh, god, never mind then.” She smoothed her hands up his chest, once again draping them over his shoulders, and moved in as close to him as her stomach would allow.

“But hey, you’ll always be the _first_ girl I ever did this with,” he reminded her, putting his hands on her waist.

“True.” That got her to smile. Despite his plethora of sexual experiences before hooking up with her, they had this one thing that had been a first for both of them. And it always would be.

“So, uh . . .” He kind of didn’t want to ask, but curiosity and all that. “Did you ever do this with Finn?”

“No,” she said, much to his relief. “But Lexa . . .”

“Lexa?” His mind immediately ventured to filthy places. “What, like with a strap-on?”

Clarke blushed.

“That’s so hot,” he said.

“You’re such a guy right now,” she said, laughing.

“But when it comes to . . . you know. A real dick. During anal sex,” he said. “Still just me?”

Smirking, she nodded.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, feeling boastful. “Just me.” He loved that Clarke had never tried this with Finn. He really, _really_ loved that. Although it kind of made him feel bad about doing it with other girls over the years.

“So, you say you know what you’re doing now?” she said, removing the ponytail holder from her hair.

“Uh-huh. I’ll make it good,” he promised her.

“Will you make me cum?”

He didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep, though, so he answered honestly. “I’ll try to.” It wasn’t impossible. He happened to know that for a fact. “What do you like to do to warm up?”

“Well, fingers are always good,” she said. “With _lots_ of lube. And tongue’s okay as long as I’ve showered first.”

“Which you have.” God, she smelled so good. Floral body wash. Very indicatively Clarke.

“And just don’t do the real thing until I tell you I’m ready,” she said.

“Got it.” Communication was key. He wasn’t going to screw this up. “And we can stop whenever you feel like it.”

“We’re not gonna stop,” she said, shaking her head. Then she kissed him and murmured against his lips, “I love you, Bellamy.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed her again, momentarily flashing back to their first kiss. In the boy’s locker room of all places. And now they were here, in their home, their bedroom. They’d come a long way.

They stood next to the bed, hands and arms moving all over each other, mouths mingling for several minutes before Clarke made the first move to get in a logical position. Pregnancy was . . . not ideal for this. Most of the time, he liked to have girls just lie flat on their stomachs, and he’d fuck them from behind. But Clarke obviously couldn’t do that right now, so they were going to have to try something else. He figured he’d let her choose, and when she crawled up onto the bed and stayed on all fours, he certainly didn’t complain.

“Is this good?” she asked, peering over her shoulder.

His mouth felt dry, but he managed to get a “Yeah,” out. This was . . . so far beyond good. Clarke had a great ass. Despite how much time he spent thinking about her breasts—who could blame him for that? They were so . . . bouncy—there wasn’t a single part of her body that didn’t drive him wild with desire.

She moved up towards the headboard, pressing her hands into the pillows, and teasingly asked, “Well, what’re you waiting for? Get up here.”

He literally shook himself out of his stupor and climbed up behind her on the bed, grabbing hold of her hips, positioning his cock in the crack of her ass. He slid it up and down, getting a sense of just how much lube he was going to need to make this as comfortable as possible for her.

“You’re gonna fuck that,” she tempted him in a song-like voice, craning her neck back and smiling.

“Yeah.” Was that the only word he could say anymore? Had he lost all his other vocabulary? He must not have, because when she suggested that he finger her, he said, “Okay.”

Getting Clarke’s asshole to open up was a different process than when he fingered her pussy. During normal sex, he’d usually use two fingers right from the start, and if she was wet enough, which she often was, then lube wasn’t even a necessity. But he didn’t dare try to stick anything up her butt without applying a heaping amount of lube first. He squirted it onto his hands, then rubbed it onto her skin, thoroughly coating her hole and the surrounding area. By the time he was done, both of the soft, round globes of her ass were glistening, and she looked even more gorgeous than before.

“You ready?” he asked, using his index finger to apply some light pressure to her opening.

She nodded wordlessly, but then said, “Yes,” as if she’d remembered how important it was to talk during this.

Slowly, he pushed his finger inside her, watching in amazement as she opened up and accepted him. It had to feel kind of strange, especially since, if she hadn’t done this since Lexa, she hadn’t done it in years. The sharp hiss of air she drew in made him stop when he was only up to his second knuckle. He didn’t bother to put any more of his finger in and instead concentrated on pumping just half of its length in and out of her. Not too quickly, not too slowly. Enough for her to really feel it and get used to it.

Eventually, she moaned. That was a good sign.

He decided to use his thumb to stimulate her pussy, too. She didn’t seem to be expecting that, because her whole body tensed up for a second, and her asshole clenched around his finger. But soon, she relaxed again, letting him touch her in both places. And she seemed to like it, because when he looked up at her face, he saw that she was smiling dazedly and definitely getting lost in the sensation.

If only he could have touched her all over. Everywhere at once.

Since one finger was hardly comparable to his cock, he knew he had to put another one in. But he was so worried about hurting her that he hesitated, nearly pulling his index finger all the way out as his middle finger hovered around her entrance.

“What’re you doing?” she asked him.

 _Not sure_ , he thought. Dammit, he wasn’t used to being anything less than an expert in the sack.

“Bellamy?” Her voice was soft, encouraging.

 _She wants this_ , he reminded himself. He wasn’t doing anything to her that she hadn’t already assured him he could do. “I’m gonna give you another one,” he said, inserting a second finger, stretching her further.

Instead of a moan this time, she groaned. That blissful look on her face changed into more of a look of concentration. It didn’t seem like it was hurting her, but he could tell that she definitely felt a difference.

With his two fingers now lodged securely inside her, he used his free hand to massage her thigh, the small of her back, and her ass itself. He wanted to make her feel appreciated and adored, because she was definitely doing this for him more than for herself, and he loved her so much for that. There were girls who weren’t even willing to try this, which was fine, but here Clarke was doing it while she was pregnant.

“Are you doin’ alright?” he asked her, twisting and turning his fingers around a bit. He couldn’t move them much. It was a tight squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she answered breathily. “I want you to fuck me.”

“I am,” he said, managing to push his fingers in a little deeper, past the second knuckle. She was opening up for him.

“No,” she said. “I mean really.”

“Really?” He was so distracted, he was losing track of the conversation. But he had to remind himself to focus on what she was saying. That was so important right now. _So_ important.

“With your cock,” she said, peeking at him over her shoulder. “Put it in me, Bellamy.”

As distracting as the sight of his fingers up her ass was, dirty talk like _that_ got his full attention. The things Clarke said in bed were so fucking sexy, especially when she got a little more graphic like that.

“You want it in?” he teased, slowly withdrawing his fingers. Her hole closed right up again, and he felt compelled to add a little more lube. Just in case.

“Just do it,” she said, wriggling her hips from side to side.

He gladly would have gone down on her and gotten his tongue in on the action, if that was what she’d wanted, but she seemed ready. And since his dick felt like it was _throbbing_ and was practically defying gravity as it stuck out from his body, he was ready, too.

Just as he was about to position himself at her rear entrance, she said, “Wait,” and that made him worry that she’d changed her mind about all of this. But all he had to do was wait while she moved forward a bit to grab hold of the headboard with one hand. “Okay, now you can,” she told him.

Moving forward on his knees, he grabbed her hips, pulling her backside towards him, once again rubbing himself up and down the crack of her ass. If he did that for too long, though, he’d just spill his load right there; so he had to stop, grab hold of his dick with one hand, and line it up with her asshole. Hoping and praying he’d done things right and that the foreplay he’d given her had been enough, he pushed forward, finding it necessary to be a bit more forceful than when he entered her pussy. If he didn’t push hard, he wasn’t gonna get in.

She breathed in sharply as he penetrated her, and it seemed like she held her breath for several seconds as her body stretched for him. He didn’t stop at the head of his cock, because he knew that wasn’t the goal. The goal was full-on _sex_ , and that required more of him to be inside her. So he pushed forward until he heard her whimper, and then he stopped.

“You alright?” he asked, checking in again.

“Uh-huh,” she said, but her brows were furrowed, her eyes shut. It looked like she was . . . adjusting. And however long that took was fine with him. Because just the mere feeling of this, of being surrounded by Clarke in _this_ way . . . it made Bellamy feel like his whole body was about to explode. He needed to take a moment to adjust, too, otherwise this would be over before it’d even started.

“Is it all the way in?” she asked him.

He looked down, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him do that. “No,” he said. “We can try more, if you . . .”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice a lusty whisper. “Do more.”

“Are you sure?” It was already so tight.

“Yeah,” she said. When he didn’t move, she pressed her hips back a bit, and more of his cock slid in.

“Oh, fuck,” he swore. He wasn’t balls deep or anything, and he didn’t have any intention of giving her _that_ much tonight. But the lube was definitely doing what it was supposed to, and she was doing a good job of keeping her muscles relaxed. To watch himself disappear in her, in this part of her . . . he felt so god-damn lucky.

“Come on, Bellamy,” she spurred him on, swiveling her hips around seductively. She was definitely ready for him to start moving.

 _My girl wants to fuck_ , he thought as he began . . . well, fucking her. He found a steady rhythm right from the start, nothing too animalistic or aggressive. He wanted her to revel in the feel of every inch of him, just as the way he was reveling in the feel of her. Holding onto her hips allowed him to control the movement, the depth of his penetration and the pace of his thrusts. He liked to watch himself sliding into her, but sometimes that made him feel like he was going to cum. So whenever that happened, he had to squeeze his eyes shut and remind himself that this was all about her. At least it was in his mind. Maybe she thought it was all about him.

“That feels so . . .” She trailed off, moaning again, and he wondered what she’d been planning to say. _Good?_ Hopefully it felt so good? Different? He’d settle for different. After all, it felt different for him, too. Despite being tighter, there was just a different texture to anal sex, and more friction even with all the lube in play.

“Oh, god, yes.” Her words were spilling out now, one on top of the other. “Oh, Bellamy . . .”

He was such a sucker for hearing his name during sex that he couldn’t help but start to move his hips a bit quicker. His skin started to slap against hers, and the cheeks of her ass actually moved.

 _Don’t fucking cum yet_ , he told himself, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head as he tried to hold off. Dammit, he wanted her to get off on this so bad.

Her one hand still gripped the headboard tightly, so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. And her other hand was squeezing one of their pillows so hard, it looked like she might tear it open. It had to be feeling good, otherwise she would have told him to stop. But even if she was liking it, he felt like it wouldn’t be possible to get her to cum by fucking her ass alone. So he bent forward, put his arms down on either side of her, and growled into her ear, “Sit up.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Sit up,” he repeated, bringing one arm up to wrap around her huge, heavy breasts. Then he leaned back again, lifting her with him this time, his hips stilling so he could make sure he stayed inside of her.

“Oh . . .” she moaned, reaching out for the headboard with both hands now.

The change in position made things feel even tighter than before, and he felt his balls drawing up. _Shit_ , he thought. Not yet. It was still too soon.

He had to put the pause on his thrusts just so he could recollect himself, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she smiled and seemed to love the way he squeezed her breasts with one hand and rubbed her belly with the other. Although he really hoped the baby was asleep or something, because she was way too young to know about anal anything.

When he snaked his hand down the underside of her belly and in between her legs, Clarke gasped loudly and threw her head back against his shoulder. Her hair was already damp, either with water or sweat or some combination of the two, and all of her skin seemed to just heat up as he played with her clit. Her breathing became louder, more labored, and her ass clenched down around his cock.

“You like that?” he whispered into her ear.

Suddenly, it was as if she were the one who’d lost her vocabulary, because all she could create were sounds, not words. But those sounds said so much. They said that she was completely caught up in this, that she was loving it, and that she was getting closer, too.

It was a risk putting something in her pussy while he was already in her ass, but he just had this feeling that she’d like it. So he stuck one finger up there, and her whole body shuddered, and she started to rock back and forth. The knowledge that she could feel him in both places right now, technically double-penetrating her, spurred him on, and he started fucking her with his cock again, going deeper than he’d anticipated he’d be able to. His balls slapped against her ass, and she arched her back while keeping her head on his shoulder. He was pretty sure she’d fall forward without him holding her up, so he held on tight.

“You feel so good,” he told her, his words blending together. “Your ass feels so fucking good.”

“Uh . . .” she groaned.

 _Yeah, that’s it_ , he thought. If words turned him on, they could turn her on, too. He’d already decided that he was going to make her cum, so it wasn’t a question of whether or not it was happening. It was a question of how. If it took a combination of his cock, his fingers, and his words to get her off, he’d gladly use all three. And then he’d still have something to work towards with her: a strictly-anal orgasm.

“Bellamy,” she choked out. “Please.”

“Please what?” Like he didn’t know.

“Make me cum,” she whimpered. She sounded so . . . desperate. And in a way, he liked that, because it was completely up to him to make her feel good.

“I got you,” he promised her, thrusting faster, _really_ doing her now, the way she wanted to be done. Hard. Passionately. Without restraint. What had started out as some slow lovemaking had escalated into . . . this. And he loved this.

He withdrew his finger from her wet pussy so he could concentrate on rubbing her clit, and that seemed to do the trick. The sounds she made intensified even more, mixing in with her heavy breathing, and he was pretty sure he heard her say, “I’m gonna cum,” right before she actually did. And it wasn’t a small orgasm, either. It really rattled through her. She shook and spasmed and just completely lost herself in it, and it was amazing. She even squirted a bit, right there on his hand, which was sexy as hell.

As usual, when she got off, so did he. It took nothing more than watching and feeling her orgasm to trigger his own. He spent himself in her ass, and that was quite the powerful climax, too. He wondered if she could feel him cum in there the way she could feel it in her pussy. Well, she always _said_ she could feel it in her pussy, anyway. But maybe she was just stroking his ego.

Neither one of them managed to stay upright after they got off, but Bellamy stayed right behind Clarke as they lay down on their sides. His cock slipped out of her, and part of him wanted to be an even bigger voyeur and spread her cheeks open to see if his cum was staying inside or seeping out. But Clarke’s whole body had practically gone limp. Her hair had gone from damp to drenched, and she was probably exhausted. So he just curled up behind her, holding her close, making the most of this chance at cuddling with her since she’d inevitably still snuggle up with her pregnancy pillow tonight.

“You did so good,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

“You, too,” she said, smiling again. “So much better than last time.”

“So much better,” he agreed, resting his head on the pillow, feeling quite tired himself now. That had been . . . a workout.

“That was a good New Year’s resolution,” she said as her eyes closed.

“And a good Valentine’s Day gift,” he added, draping his arm over her midsection. “Best ever.”

“Best ever,” she agreed, sounding like she was about to fall asleep any second.

 _God, I love you so much, Princess_ , he thought, breathing her in as he lay with her, as a feeling of contentedness washed over him. Next year on Valentine’s Day, whether they went out to eat again or just stayed inside and did this all night long, she’d know _exactly_ how much she meant to him and exactly how much he loved her. Because next year, she’d be his wife.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that it really matters, but I listened to the Bryan Adams cover of "Wonderwall" towards the end of the flashback scene in this part, and I think it really fits well, so give that a listen if you feel like it. :)

_Chapter 44_

Bellamy was in a good mood. A _really_ good mood, actually. Good sex was enough to put a smile on a guy’s face for an entire day, but good _anal_ sex meant he had a bounce in his step.

“What’s going on with you?” Murphy asked as he finished setting up his camera.

“Nothing.” Bellamy grabbed two beers out of the fridge, and as he opened them, he noticed Murphy eyeing him suspiciously. “I’m happy,” he said.

“Why?” Murphy questioned.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you just look _really_ happy.”

Bellamy went over to the couch, handed Murphy one of the beers, and sat down with the other in his hand. “Last night was Valentine’s Day,” he said, raising his bottle to mock toast the holiday.

“Yeah, it was,” Murphy agreed, doing the same before he took a giant swig. Slowly, though, he lowered the bottle from his mouth, and a realization seemed to dawn on him. “ _Oh_. What’d you get? Something good, right?”

_Something_ really _good_ , Bellamy thought. But he didn’t say anything, even though he was pretty sure that camera wasn’t filming yet.

“New Year’s resolution?” Murphy guessed.

“Ah, a gentleman doesn’t spill his secrets,” Bellamy said, even though it was probably really fucking obvious.

“Since when are you a gentleman?” Murphy joked.

He shrugged. “I’ve been known to have my moments.”

****

_Bellamy rang the doorbell and waited. And his heart pounded as he waited. There weren’t many people who intimidated him, but Abby Griffin did. And here he was, standing outside her house, prepared to plead with her if that was what it took. (That was probably what it would take.)_

_He knew both Abby and Clarke were home. Clarke’s bedroom light was on, and Abby’s car was parked outside the double garage in the driveway. But that front door didn’t open, so he rang the doorbell again, and again, he waited. This time, he heard the locks unlatch, and slowly, Abby pulled open the door._

_“Bellamy,” she said sternly. “What’re you doing here?”_

_That was a good question. He hadn’t woken up intending to do this, but . . . he just felt like he had to try. “There was a dance at school tonight. For Valentine’s Day,” he explained. “The sweetheart dance. But I was there without my sweetheart, so it was kinda lame.” He’d put on a suit and gone, only because Miller had promised to spike the punch. But seeing Raven and Zeke all over each other only amplified Clarke’s absence, and he’d only been able to stick it out for two of the three hours._

_“She’s grounded,” Abby reminded him. “She’s not going to that dance.”_

_“Yeah, I know.” He looked past her, trying to see if anyone else was home. If Jake had been there, this might have been a little easier. Jake was kind of pushover when his wife made a decision, but still, Bellamy didn’t sense the same kind of animosity from him as he did from her. “Can I talk to you?” he asked._

_“Now’s not really--”_

_“Please.” He couldn’t go back to that dance or even go home without at least making his case to her. Even if she still wouldn’t budge, at least he’d know he tried. And hey, if she got pissed at him and killed him, at least he’d die in formalwear._

_Reluctantly, Abby opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow him entrance to her home. They went into the living room, and she glanced upstairs, as if checking to make sure Clarke wasn’t eavesdropping. “Look, Bellamy,” she said, her voice low, “I know you think I have it out for you, but . . . I’m just trying to look out for my daughter and do what’s best for her.”_

_“I get that,” he said, nodding. “I do. When it comes to my little sister, if some guy started sleeping with her and taking her out to parties and skipping school with her, I’d be pissed, too. I wouldn’t want her seeing him. And I’d probably do everything in my power to stop it.”_

_Abby folded her arms and said, “So you understand where I’m coming from.”_

_“Yeah.” As much as he could understand, he did understand. “And I’m sorry,” he apologized. He was well aware that he wasn’t what mothers thought of when they thought up their ideal boyfriends for their daughters. “But I need you to try to understand where I’m coming from, too,” he told her. “I think the world of your daughter. I think she’s amazing. I’ve been having the best year of my life because of her.” In that moment, he actually hoped that Clarke was eavesdropping, because it was a lot easier to just have her overhear those things than it would be to say it straight to her. “I don’t wanna get her in trouble or cause problems for the two of you,” he assured Abby. “I just wanna spend some time with her. While I can.” The closer it got to summertime, the louder his internal countdown became. Just a few more months now. That was all they had, and then he had to leave._

_“The problem isn’t that you’re spending time together,” Abby clarified. “It’s_ how _you’re spending that time. And I’m not just talking about sex, Bellamy. I know I can’t stop her from doing that, as much as I would like to. But when she goes out with you and comes home drunk, or when she cuts class just to be with you, don’t you see why, as a mother, I find that alarming?”_

_To him, it was more amusing than anything else. But to her, he could understand why she wouldn’t see it the same way. “She’s never gotten drunk unless I’m there with her,” he reassured her. “She doesn’t get behind the wheel when she’s like that.”_

_“That doesn’t make it okay,” Abby argued. “Now listen, I know you’re used to a more laissez-faire style of parenting . . “._

_Oh, this woman probably hated his mom’s guts and judged her more hands-off approach to parenting pretty hard. But there was something to be said for it, too. “My mom trusts me,” he said. “She trusts me to make my own decisions. But if I need her, she’s there for me. It’s not like she doesn’t care what I do. She just lets me be more independent.”_

_“But you’re eighteen. Clarke’s not,” Abby pointed out. “And it’s different with girls, Bellamy. If you ever have a daughter someday, trust me, you’ll understand. It’s just different.”_

_Yeah, it probably was. Girls got pregnant sometimes, just like his mom had. “What do I have to do, Mrs. Griffin?” he asked, practically begging now. “What do I have to do to be able to see your daughter again? Please, just . . . just give me another chance.”_

_Abby sighed heavily and shook her head._

_“I got my grades up,” he told her, hoping that she might find that at least the slightest bit impressive. “Nothing lower than a C right now. I’m really trying here.”_

_“That’s good,” she said, nodding. “That’s good that you got your grades up.”_

_But it wasn’t enough. He had to negotiate. “If we go anywhere, we won’t drink. Either one of us,” he promised. “And if you say curfew’s at 11:00, I’ll have her home by 10:45.”_

_For a moment, Abby didn’t say anything, just looked at him critically before mumbling, “Curfew would be at 10:00.”_

_“That’s fine.” He could handle that._

_She still didn’t look completely swayed as she met his eyes, once again shaking her head doubtfully. “You’re asking me to put an awful lot of trust in you, Bellamy,” she said. “And I don’t know if I can do that.”_

_Fair enough. He wasn’t Wells Jaha, and he didn’t know how to get on a parent’s good side. But it wasn’t really about that, was it? Not really. “Then trust Clarke,” he said. He wasn’t asking her to not have any rules. He just wanted rules that were easier for him and Clarke to follow. Rules that would make it easier on everyone, including Abby._

_Although he’d always known he could talk to people and he’d always had a knack for persuasion, Bellamy was even surprised by himself when he got permission to head up to Clarke’s room that night. It still took some coaxing, but once he promised he’d leave the door open, he got the a-okay. When he knocked on her door, though, she yelled back, “Mom, I told you, I wanna be alone!”_

_“You sure about that?” he said, walking in._

_Clarke was on her bed, drawing while listening to some somber music. She shot off the bed when she saw him and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms. “Bellamy!” she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. It felt like they hadn’t seen each other in days. And really, with his in-school suspension and then hers, they hadn’t. She smelled so good._

_Pulling back, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, but her voice was a frenetic whisper when she asked, “What’re you doing here? My mom’s gonna catch you.”_

_“Actually, she let me in,” he informed her. “She knows I’m up here.”_

_Clarke’s expression morphed into one of total confusion. “What?”_

_“I talked to her,” he explained._

_“When?”_

_“Just now. She looked like she’d been crying.”_

_Clarke grunted and moved towards her speaker, turning down the volume of her music just slightly. “Probably has been,” she said. “We’ve been arguing non-stop for days.”_

_That was what he’d been afraid of. “Well, I think she’s finally tired of it,” he said._

_“What do you mean?”_

_He just smiled._

_Her whole face lit up with excitement as she realized what he was getting at. “You got her to change her mind about us?”_

_It wasn’t as huge of an accomplishment as it sounded. “I think it was gonna happen whether I talked to her or not,” he admitted. “She doesn’t wanna lose you.”_

_Clarke’s mouth dropped open, and she sat down on the side of her bed, as if to keep from falling over. “I’m speechless,” she said._

_“Well, it comes with stipulations, of course. We can’t drink whenever we go out. Not one drop for either one of us. And I have to have you home by 9:45. No skipping school, obviously.” Abby had promised to write all her rules out for him, so he’d have a nice, long list to look forward to in the coming days. “And I’m pretty sure if we break any one of these rules, she’s gonna axe murder me, so . . .” He trailed off, joking. Sort of._

_“So we’ll follow them,” Clarke said._

_“Yeah.” He could compromise with the woman, if that was what it took. Small price to pay for the chance to be with Clarke again. “She even begrudgingly agreed to let you go to this sweetheart dance tonight,” he told her, “if you wanna.”_

_Clarke smiled, but when she looked over her shoulder and glimpsed the time on her bedside clock, her shoulders slumped. “By the time I get dressed and we actually get there . . . it’ll practically be over,” she said. “You shouldn’t have left, though. You’re probably gonna be crowned king.”_

_He shrugged. “It wasn’t any fun without you there. Besides, I stuffed the ballot box for Jasper.” That kid would_ love _getting king. Bellamy had experienced that many times before, but for Jasper, it might only come around this once._

_The current song ended, and a new one began to play. Still slow, still soft, probably a hell of a lot better than whatever music the DJ was playing up in the school gymnasium tonight. They would’ve been surrounded by so many other people there, but here, it was just the two of them. And there was something kind of nice about that. Sure, he’d forced himself into a suit, and Clarke would have undoubtedly looked stunning in whatever dress she’d chosen; but she looked beautiful even now just in leggings and a t-shirt. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, strands poking out the sides, and she had very little makeup on. She didn’t even need any._

_“You wanna dance?” he asked, holding out his hand for her. They could do their own thing tonight, celebrate Valentine’s Day their own way. Just them. No one else._

_She looked a little surprised that he’d offered, probably because the only dancing he’d ever done with her had been to hip hop music at parties. And that was a very different type of dancing. But she didn’t hesitate for long. She put the palm of her hand in his, and he pulled her to his feet and into an embrace. Her t-shirt was fitted enough that he could feel the curve of her waist. His hands fit there perfectly. And she put her arms up over his shoulders as they began swaying from side to side, not exactly in time with the music. Not that it mattered._

_At first she looked at his chest, then down at her feet, anywhere but at him, it seemed. Sort of like all the couples in middle school had done. But when she lifted her eyes and met his, he saw something there he’d never seen from any girl before. He didn’t have a word for it, but it was . . . intense. Just this look of utter longing. And Bellamy felt that same longing. He felt it all over. He felt so much of it that he couldn’t say anything, and he couldn’t look away. It was like he was getting lost in her or something, and he had no desire to be found._

_The corners of her mouth moved upward a bit, and she smiled up at him, the first smile he’d seen from her since their blissful day at the beach. “This feels like a dream,” she said._

_He felt the need to assure her that it wasn’t, just in case she actually had dreamt about something like this before. “It’s not.” Her mom really had decided to let up on the two of them, and they really were dancing right now. Knowing Abby, she was loitering down the hall, inconspicuously watching them, but he didn’t care. Right now, Clarke was the only thing that existed._

_She turned her head to the side, moved in closer, and rested her cheek against his chest, so he lowered his head to rest his chin against the top of her head. Closing his eyes, he let himself stay lost, lost in the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair._

_It wasn’t exactly the sweetheart dance, the two of them swaying around in her bedroom while only one of them was donning formalwear. But it was something so much better._

****

Sometimes Bellamy was amazed how many good memories he and Clarke had. They’d been apart longer than they were together, but there were still so many things he looked back on and remembered fondly. And that night in her bedroom, holding her and dancing with her . . . that was one of them.

“So do you think you fell in love with Clarke in high school?” Murphy asked, pushing the conversation forward. Sometimes when Bellamy started down memory lane, he went pretty far.

“Oh, yeah,” Bellamy answered. “But I didn’t realize it at the time.” If he had . . . well, a lot of things probably would have gone differently.

“So when did you?” Murphy asked.

“I don’t know.” He thought about it, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t think there was ever just one moment. It just kind of . . .” He trailed off, thought about it some more, and shrugged. “I’m not sure. Eventually I just knew.”

“Yeah? So how long did it take?”

That was hard to pinpoint, too, but he had a general idea. “Well, I left for college,” he reminded Murphy. And the camera. “We weren’t together anymore, so she was free to do whatever she wanted to do, with whoever. And so was I.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow knowingly. “And did you?”

He felt like kind of an ass to admit it, but . . . hell, he obviously hadn’t been celibate for five years. “Yeah,” he said. “I hooked up with girls. Didn’t really date anyone, but . . . yeah, I hooked up with ‘em.”

“Clarke made it sound like she didn’t hook up with anyone.”

He sighed. “No, she didn’t. Not until _she_ went to college. So I feel kinda guilty about that, but . . .” Oh, well. He was a young guy, so he’d slept with lots of beautiful young women. There was no shame in that. “I mean, it wasn’t like I just forgot about her, though,” he said, just in case people would wonder about that. If thousands of people were going to view this film of Murphy’s, he wanted to make that clear. “I missed her. A lot. I thought I’d get to see her over the holidays, but I guess she had family stuff.”

“Why didn’t you ever call her?” Murphy pressed.

“I didn’t know what to say. And she didn’t make any effort to call me, either, so . . .” It was definitely weird how they’d gone from being such a huge part of each other’s lives to not being in each other’s lives at all, and looking back, he wished he _had_ picked up the phone. Maybe they could have had a long-distance thing going. Maybe that would have brought him back to Arkadia sooner. “It sounds stupid nowadays, but back then, I pretty much just figured it was over,” he said. “Figured that was my one shot.”

“But you knew you still had feelings for her.”

“Well, yeah. I knew none of those college girls held my interest the same way she did. I knew I still wanted her,” he said. “But I gave her up to go down to Florida and play football.” That had been the priority for him at the time, but . . . priorities changed. “So you gotta understand, I thought I blew it. And eventually, I just kinda forced myself to move on.”

Murphy nodded slowly, as if he were understanding. “But you never stopped loving her.”

“No. I think that’s why I never tried getting serious with anyone else. ‘cause there were girls who wanted to get serious with me, you know.” There had been a lot of girls down at UCF looking for a boyfriend, especially an athlete like him. And out in L.A., he’d had offers, too. “But I always stopped it after a couple of dates,” he said. “Because it didn’t feel like it did with Clarke.”

“But it still took you years to come back. Even after you quit playing for UCF,” Murphy pointed out. “Why?”

“Just . . .” When he started thinking about that place, all he thought about was that party, about what had happened there, what his teammates had done. “After all of that . . . I needed a break,” he replied vaguely. “I needed to go off and do my own thing. And Clarke had her own thing going on here, too. She graduated, she started college. And it’s probably better I wasn’t around for all of that. I would’ve just held her back.”

“Wait, what?” Murphy made a face. “Why the hell do you say that?”

“Well . . .” It sounded self-deprecating, but it was true. “It’s no secret Clarke’s the one with all the intellect and potential. The only profitable talent I ever had was throwing a football down the field, and I gave that up.”

“So you didn’t feel like you were good enough for her?”

“No. Sometimes I still don’t,” he admitted. He looked down at his lap, sort of embarrassed that he was being so honest. If Murphy decided to include this footage, his insecurities would be broadcast to the world. But he couldn’t very well do a film like this and lie. The truth of it all . . . that was where the story was. “So when I came back here, I didn’t have any grand visions of us ending up together,” he said. “I mean . . . I _hoped_ she didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I hoped she’d be happy to see me again. And I was so excited to see her.” He smiled as he thought back to that night and how freakin’ thrilled he’d been when she’d responded to his text. And how floored he’d been when she’d walked into the bar, shorter hair but still the same Clarke. “She was the first person I met up with, besides my mom and sister,” he said. “I never stopped thinking about her, in all those years. I thought _maybe_ . . .” There had been a lot of maybes running through his mind back then, but now they were all certainties.

“And when you guys saw each other again . . . Clarke says it felt like you’d never been apart,” Murphy told him.

“Yeah.” The conversation had just flowed, and that, of course, had led to sex. And sex with Clarke had _always_ been electric. “You ever just feel like something’s meant to be?” he said, switching it up and questioning his interviewer.

“Kind of,” Murphy replied.

“Well, that’s how I felt that night. That’s how I still feel.” Shaking his head, he laughed a little. “Sounds cheesy as fuck, but it’s true.”

“No, I get it,” Murphy said. “She’s the love of your life.”

Bellamy smiled, because that was a fact, and it hadn’t changed in five years. Wasn’t ever gonna change. “Yeah,” he said, excited for the world to know how he felt about her. “She’s my constant.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even though Clarke planned to work up until her due date, she really hoped Diyoza might not schedule her at all the week beforehand. This third trimester was bringing back all sorts of aches and pains that she thought she’d ridded herself of the first trimester, and being on her feet for hours wasn’t easy. Especially since her feet were so huge. She was actually starting to wear Bellamy’s shoes out and about.

Despite being the biggest employee, she still felt like she was one of the best. She got more tips than anyone else, which may have been due in part to her baby bump; but she maintained good customer service, too. She was chipper and personable and only got cranky when people touched her stomach without her permission. But there was a bright side to their violation of her personal bubble: They usually ended up tipping extra generously because they felt bad.

She’d just gotten done clearing off a table and bringing the glasses back to the sink when Avery started kickboxing. Or at least that was what it felt like. Clarke stopped what she was doing, put her hands on her stomach, and forgot all about work for a moment. In fact, the whole bar kind of just faded away, and it was just her and her baby. Feeling her move was like . . . mother/daughter bonding time.

“Is she kicking?”

Finn’s voice broke into her bonding time, and she whirled around, less than thrilled to see him sitting at the bar, leaning over the counter as though he wanted to reach out and feel, too.

“No,” Clarke lied, taking her hands off her stomach. “I mean, she was, but . . . she stopped.”

For a second, Finn looked disappointed, but he didn’t linger on that disappointment for long. “What’s it feel like?” he asked.

Resisting the urge to tell him to Google it, she mumbled, “It’s hard to explain,” and didn’t elaborate any further. It wasn’t a good idea to get wrapped up in a whole conversation with him, so she asked, “Do you want something to drink?” and really hoped he’d say no. And then leave.

His answer was the one she was hoping for: “No.” But unfortunately, he didn’t move off that barstool.

“Something to eat?” she said.

“No.”

Her patience wore out, and she couldn’t hold back the bite in her voice when she asked, “Then why are you here?”

“I just thought I’d stop in,” he said, “say hi.”

She rolled her eyes. Say _hi?_

“Hey, I’m just checking up on you,” he said. “Is that so bad?”

No, it wasn’t _bad_. It just also wasn’t necessary. “Well, I’m fine,” she said. “Everything’s fine.” That was all he needed to know. He didn’t need to know that she and Bellamy had their first Lamaze class scheduled, because then he’d just show up there, too. He didn’t need to know that she and Raven were eyeing dates for her baby shower, and he _definitely_ didn’t need to know that Kane was helping her put together the necessary paperwork to ensure that Bellamy would be appointed Avery’s legal guardian if anything ever happened to her. There was a lot of stuff he didn’t need to know, and she didn’t feel bad for keeping it from him. He’d given up his right to know things a long time ago.

Finn’s cameo at the bar left Clarke in a bad mood that afternoon when she went to get her hair cut with Harper and Raven. She only stopped ranting about him when the hairdresser tilted her backward to wash her hair. But when the trimming started, she picked up her rant right where she’d left off.

“Ugh, I wish Finn would just make up his damn mind,” she growled. “He acts like he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me or this baby, but then he makes these random little guest appearances in my life whenever he feels like it. It’s annoying.”

In the chair next to her, Raven, who was only getting her hair styled since it was already the perfect length and shade, said, “He’s probably just doing that so he doesn’t feel like as much of a deadbeat dad.”

“That’s what he is, though,” Harper said softly as her hairdresser worked on her highlights. “Right?”

“I guess,” Clarke muttered. “I don’t even know if I’m gonna let him pay child support. Maybe it’s best to just have him out of Avery’s life. Completely. You know, he didn’t even want me to have her.”

“That’s awful,” Raven sympathized, and Harper agreed with her.

_Yeah_ , Clarke thought, looking down at her stomach. _It’s awful_. “You guys are so lucky,” she said. “When you two get pregnant, it’ll be so simple. Monty will be a great dad, and Murphy will be . . . interesting. But you’re not gonna have to deal with some other guy.”

“Well, at least you’re not doing this alone,” Raven pointed out. “No matter what, you have Bellamy.”

Clarke’s hairdresser stopped in mid-trim and said, “Bellamy? Bellamy Blake?”

Clarke looked at her in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“You’re dating him?”

“Uh-huh.”

The hairdresser finally finished snipping off one section of Clarke’s hair, but she looked like she was in daydream land as she sighed wistfully and recalled, “Oh, I was a senior when he was a sophomore. He was really hot. We hooked up a few times.”

“Great.” _Why would she tell me this?_ Clarke wondered. She was already in a bad enough mood.

“Yeah, I didn’t usually go for jocks, but Bellamy . . . ooh, he had some _skills_.”

_Sex skills_ , Clarke realized. This chick was literally going to fantasize about Bellamy right in front of her.

“I remember this one night when I was walking home, and he offered to give me a ride. Well, he gave me a ride alright. I swear, I’ve never had it so good. He--”

“Will you just shut up and cut my hair?!” Clarke shrieked, cutting her off when she couldn’t take it any longer. Good God, could the woman be any more idiotic? _She’d better not give me a bad haircut_ , Clarke thought, ignoring the looks some of the other people in the salon were giving her. As long as she had this protruding belly, she felt like no one could judge her for any public outbursts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Clarke got home, she was satisfied with her haircut but nothing else. “Bellamy?” she said as she dragged herself through the door. “I might need a foot rub. Or a shoulder massage. Or a really thorough fucking.” _Or all of the above_ , she thought. As long as it included the fucking. She didn’t get a response from him, but she heard movement upstairs, so she called his name again. “Bellamy?” He still didn’t seem to hear her, so she trudged up the stairs. Just getting from the first floor to the second felt like exercise these days; it was ridiculous.

Bellamy came out of the nursery just as she reached the top stair, and he quickly shut the door and said, “Hey, you’re home early,” as he came to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s 8:30,” she informed him.

“Oh, is it?” He looked outside and laughed a little. “I must’ve lost track of time.” Then he touched her hair and said, “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” She’d only gotten about an inch taken off, but it’d been necessary. She couldn’t let her hair get too long, not when she was going to be a mom in a couple months. Short hair was just so much easier to manage. “Working on the nursery, huh?” she said.

“Finishing it, actually.”

_Finishing?_ she registered. It was _done?_

“You wanna see?”

What kind of question was that? Of course she wanted to see. Nodding eagerly, she started forward, but he sipped in between her and the door and kept her from entering right away.

“Okay. If there’s anything you don’t like, I can change it,” he said. “You ready?”

“Yes! Open the door.” It’d taken everything she had these past few weeks to not take a little peek.

“Alright,” he said, pushing open the door. “I hope you like it.”

What she walked into was . . . so different than the blank, vacant room she’d barely set foot in since she’d moved into the beach house. Everything was there: the crib, the dresser, the changing table, and the shelves full of toys they’d stocked up on. All the furniture was white, often accented with pastel pink in some way. In the crib’s case, it was pink pillows. There was a pink rug on the hardwood floor, too, and pink bows tying the curtains back. The walls were painted a calming grey, and Avery’s name was displayed right above her crib in pink letters. Hanging from the ceiling was a beautiful light fixture that hadn’t been there before, and it lit up the room in warm hues.

“Oh my god, Bellamy,” she said, moving around the space to get a closer look at everything that was there. “This is beautiful.” He’d put in _so_ much work; everything was so detailed. The pillows in her crib said _Mom_ and _Dad_ , and the mirror next to the dresser had a crown on the top of it. It really was a room fit for a princess.

“Roan helped me with a lot of this stuff,” Bellamy said. “I can’t take all the credit.”

When she turned around, she noticed so much more. There was a little closet space with all sorts of outfits hanging up. Every day outfits and little dresses and, of course, a princess costume. There were books on the shelves, books that they would take turns reading to her in the plush white chair in the corner. And there was a small photo hanging on the wall, one Clarke recognized well. It was the first ultrasound image, back when Avery had been only been the size of a sweet pea. Now there it was, proudly displayed in a silver frame that said _Love at First Sight._

“It’s perfect,” she said, in awe of everything he’d done. She’d expected something nice, but not this nice. “Thank you.” She hugged him, and all of the negative feelings she’d come home with just vanished, replaced by happiness and joy. “You’re the best,” she told him, not sure that she could adequately express how much this nursery meant to her.

“I’m not,” he said, keeping his arms around her, “but thanks for saying that.”

“No, you are,” she said, not loosening her hold on him one bit. “You are.” She kept hugging him and feeling utterly grateful for him as tears stung her eyes. A few of them spilled over, but most of them she blinked away.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience. Sorry it took me a few extra days to get this chapter posted. I've had a busy week so far. This shouldn't happen again.

_Chapter 45_

Whenever Bellamy stopped at Walmart to pick up groceries, he got sidetracked by stuff for the baby. Usually it was toys, but at this point, Avery had plenty of toys. He still felt like she could use some more books, though. Plus, baby books were kind of cool. The pages were thin boards instead of paper, and most of them were dedicated to sensory stuff. One book he picked up was all about animal sounds and claimed to make a new sound for every page turned. Bellamy opened it up to the ‘C is for cow’ page ad got a loud “Moo!” in response. A little too loud, so he put that book back and checked out another one, one devoted to different textures. There were bumps and ridges on some pages, smooth surfaces on others. And one page actually had a drawing of a teddy bear on it, but there was a cutout on the bear’s stomach with actual real fur in it. He felt like Avery would like that. Hell, even _he_ liked it, and he was a grown-ass man. Any book with a lot of pictures and not so many words was his kind of book.

****

_Try as he might to look at the page in front of him and follow along as Monty read all about the Supreme Court’s most pivotal decisions, Bellamy just couldn’t help but look outside the big, glass windows that served as one wall of the library. They looked out upon the cafeteria and commons area, where the cheerleaders were practicing for their state routine. Every single one of them was wearing spandex and a sports bra, but Clarke’s sports bra did little to conceal her huge, amazing . . ._

_“Bellamy,” Monty said. “Bellamy! Are you even listening?”_

_He really wasn’t, but he said, “Yeah,” anyway and continued to watch the girls. Or . . . one girl, at least. They were doing . . . what were those things called again? Toe-touches? Jumping up in the air and hitting the splits, basically. It must not have been easy, because Clarke was fanning herself, and her cleavage was all shiny with sweat._

_“What did I just read?” Monty asked him sternly._

_Bellamy reluctantly tore his eyes away from his girlfriend and replied, “You read . . . this page.”_

_“And what was it about?”_

_“Something.” Hell if he knew, or cared._

_“Focus,” Monty told him. “You gotta get this done.”_

_“Yeah, but . . .” He motioned out to Clarke and said, “Look at her.” How was he supposed to focus when she was right out there looking the way she did and moving the way she moved? When they weren’t practicing their jumps, they were going through their dance, and there was a lot of hip shaking in it that was driving Bellamy wild._

_“She’s got stuff to do, you’ve got stuff to do,” Monty reminded him. “Now come on. Let’s just do this. You wanna read it this time?”_

_Him? Read? Yeah, right. “No, you go ahead,” he said. He pretended to be paying attention while Monty started in on the paragraph about Roe v. Wade—or maybe it was Brown v. the Board of Education—but inevitably, his eyes flittered towards that window again. Clarke must have sensed that he was watching her, because she looked that way and smiled at him. He smiled back at her, happy to draw her focus since she was always drawing his._

****

“Never thought I’d see you so absorbed in a book.”

Bellamy looked over his shoulder when he heard a semi-familiar voice. “Hey, Roma,” he said, closing the textures book. “How are you?”

She shrugged. “Been better, been worse.”

That seemed to be the usual with her. He’d run into the girl who’d taken his virginity a few times since coming back to Arkadia, and whenever he did, she acted kind of annoyed with her life. And she usually complained about her son, like becoming a mom had ended her life or something.

“What about you?” she asked him.

“I’m good,” he replied. “Just working, gettin’ ready for the baby.”

“How far along is Clarke now?”

“Uh, seven months.”

“Wow,” she said. “Are you freaking out yet?”

Freaking out? “No,” he answered. If anything, he was getting more and more excited every day.

“Well, you will be once the baby’s born,” she warned him. “Is it actually yours, by the way?”

He was so caught off guard by that question that all he could respond with was, “What?”

“Is it yours or someone else’s?” she said. “I’ve heard both.”

He wasn’t shocked that people were talking about it. People in Arkadia knew him, or at least knew _of_ him given his football glory days. But what did it matter to them if Avery was _actually_ his or not? And what made Roma, a mere acquaintance these days, think she had the right to ask? He answered anyway, with a vague but definite, “She’s gonna be my daughter,” and then quickly said, “Bye, Roma,” as he pushed his grocery cart away. He kept the baby book in his hand. One more to add to the bookshelf he’d made.

After stopping at home to put all the food away, Bellamy headed over to Raven and Murphy’s place. He and Clarke had agreed to have a movie night with them, sort of a double date without actually having to go anywhere. When he walked into the small apartment, Murphy was filming his girlfriend doing some cheerleading moves while Clarke sat on the couch and watched, but he swung the camera towards Bellamy and said, “Hey, look who it is.”

“Murphy,” Raven groaned. “I was just getting to the good part.”

“Battery’s about to die anyway,” Murphy mumbled, setting his camera down on his desk. He hooked it up to charge it and told his girlfriend, “You can do some cheers for me later. _In_ the uniform.”

“In your dreams,” Raven grunted, giving his shoulder a shove as he eased past her to take a seat in his favorite chair.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, looking back over her shoulder at him, “did you get my stuff?”

“Yep. Already in the freezer,” he assured her as he kicked off his shoes. He made sure to conceal his surprise for her behind his back.

“What’s the new craving now?” Raven asked.

“Popsicles. The grape kind,” Clarke replied. “I swear, I can just spend all night sucking on those big purple . . .” She stopped short when she noticed the looks her friends were giving her. “This sentence is ending up in a different place than where it started.”

Well, she could spend all night sucking on something else that was big, but Bellamy wasn’t about to embarrass her. He walked up behind the couch, whipped out the small bouquet of flowers from behind his back, and held them out in front of her. “Here you go,” he said.

Her face lit up with delight, and she said, “Babe, what’re these for?”

“No reason. I just felt like getting you something.”

“No, don’t do that,” Murphy groaned.

“Why not?” Bellamy said.

“Because whenever you’re the perfect boyfriend, it makes me look bad in comparison.”

“Sorry,” Bellamy apologized, but as Clarke took the flowers from him, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Not sorry,” and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He had a very romantic side to him, and he sure as hell knew how to use it.

“Well, maybe you could learn or thing or two,” Raven suggested to her boyfriend, sitting on the arm of his chair, “be inspired by him.”

“Fine, I’ll go get you some flowers,” Murphy said, standing up.

“I don’t want flowers.”

He sat back down again. “Then what do you want?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to figure out.”

_Man, all we need is some popcorn_ , Bellamy thought, sitting down next to Clarke. He loved watching other couples argue. It was entertaining.

“What am I supposed to do? Read your mind?” Murphy spat.

“Yes.”

“What?”

Bellamy laughed. “This is the series you should be filming,” he told Murphy. “People would love to see this.”

“Yeah, it’s like a romantic comedy,” Clarke agreed.

“What does that make us then?” he asked her. “A romantic drama?”

“We can be comedic, too,” she said.

“I think we’re hilarious.”

Murphy got up, came towards Clarke, and said, “Give me one of those,” as he snatched a yellow flower out of her multi-colored bouquet. He handed it to his girlfriend almost obediently and said, “Here, Raven. I love you.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, but the corners of her mouth tugged upward, and she smelled the flower anyway. “Just find us a movie to watch,” she told him, sliding into the chair with him. As Murphy grabbed the remote and started channel surfing, she shifted the conversation and said, “So Bellamy, Clarke was telling me you guys have Lamaze class tomorrow. Are you nervous?”

What was with people today asking if he was freaking out about stuff or feeling nervous? There was nothing to be nervous about. “No,” he said.

“Really?” Raven sounded surprised.

“Yeah, why would I be?”

Clarke cut in and said, “Uh, because we don’t know anything. We don’t know what we’re doing. We’ve never done this before.”

“That’s why we’re goin’ to the class,” he said simply.

“Yeah, but . . . what if everyone catches onto stuff better than us and we’re, like, the worst ones there?” she fretted.

He snorted. “Story of my life.”

“Mine, too,” Murphy added in.

“Don’t worry, Clarke, you’ll be fine,” Raven assured her. “You’ll get to do the ‘hee, hee, hoo’ breathing thing, and it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” Clarke said. “Until it’s time for the real thing.” She cast a worried look at Bellamy, and he just put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. There wasn’t much else he could do when it came to childbirth other than be as supportive as she needed him to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke raised her hand and didn’t even wait to be called on before interrupting her instructor and asking, “What do you mean we’re not doing ‘hee, hee, hoo?’ I thought that was what Lamaze is.” She’d brought her yoga mat just to be able to lie down and practice that.

“Lamaze has changed a lot over the years, Clarke,” Luna told her. “We’re going to be exploring a lot of options for your labor and delivery.” She continued talking, explaining the philosophy of Lamaze, as well as her own credentials, and the butterflies in Clarke’s stomach flapped their wings a little bit more. Now she had no idea what they were even going to be doing.

Leaning over, she said quietly to Bellamy, “This isn’t what I pictured.”

“I know,” he said, showing her some pictures of breastfeeding in one of the pamphlets they’d gotten on their way in. “It’s so much better.”

“Oh, stop,” she said, whacking his arm gently. “Pay attention.” He’d been looking at the breastfeeding stuff ever since they sat down, mostly because the pictures showed actual breasts. It wasn’t just drawings in there.

“Sorry,” he said, folding up the pamphlet. “I’m a bad student.”

He may not have been a great one, but he was a pretty damn good partner to take a whole day off of work to come do this with her. There were four other men there, but there were also a couple of women who had attended with their own mothers, so . . . maybe they didn’t have a boyfriend or a husband to do this with. That would have been her if Bellamy hadn’t . . .

But Bellamy had. Of course he had.

After Luna gave them her credentials—she was a licensed midwife who had given birth to two kids of her own and _loved_ helping pregnant women feel like goddesses during their delivery—they went around the room and introduced themselves. Most of the women were pregnant for the first time, but most of them were a few years older than Clarke. She didn’t bother saying her age, not that there was anything wrong with having a baby at twenty-two. She just didn’t want to be known as the youngest one there. When Bellamy introduced himself, one of the other moms recognized him and said, “You used to play football, right?” He just said, “Right,” and left it at that.

Instruction began with a slides presentation about Lamaze’s 6 Healthy Birth Practices, some of which were obvious, like the third one, which was to bring a loved one for continuous support, and others that surprised Clarke. She hadn’t expected Lamaze to be such a strong advocate for alternative pushing positions. She’d pictured herself lying on her back today with her legs in the air, pretending to push and learning to breathe. But even though Luna did assure them there was nothing wrong with that position, she also had them get up and try out some others. Walking around was supposed to help labor progress, as gravity would be a natural aid. But if that got too tiring, she could hold onto Bellamy for support. They tried it out, sort of getting in a slow dance position with her arms around his shoulders and his around her back. Clarke liked that one because he could rub her back, and the closeness of it was so comforting. She found out she could also push while sitting, perhaps on a birthing ball, which was kind of fun because it was like a big, bouncy yoga ball, or maybe just while sitting in front of Bellamy in between his legs. He could rub her shoulders or her neck that way, and Luna made sure to let him and the other men practice. Apparently a partner’s touch was one of the best forms of pain relief during labor.

Clarke’s yoga mat did eventually come in handy, even though Luna had one for every participant, because they got down on the floor and tried out some unusual positions for pushing, like lying sideways or being on all fours. Clarke didn’t like the all fours one; it felt too sexual. Throughout it all, Luna kept assuring them that there was no one right or wrong position. They might use a variety, whatever felt most comfortable at the time.

Towards the end of the class, they did get to practice breathing, but it wasn’t the ‘hee, hee, hoo’ Clarke had expected. It involved a lot of heavy exhalations, and even some moaning. Which felt weird. But Luna assured them that making noise helped when coping with contractions, so Clarke was willing to try it. While reclining back against Bellamy, she pretended to push and let herself . . . moan. And groan. And make all sorts of sounds that sounded like the same sounds she’d made when actually _creating_ the baby. She and Bellamy both laughed their way through that, but it was still good to get some reassurance that a noisy delivering was nothing to be ashamed of.

The class lasted several hours, and some of the moms looked tired at the end of it, but Clarke was interested to see how she’d done. So as Luna said, “Good job, everybody. Next week we’ll work on newborn care,” and other pairs started to leave, she tugged on Bellamy’s hand and tried to get him to go to the front of the classroom with her.

“No, Clarke, it’s fine,” he said. “Let’s just go.”

“It’ll just take a minute.” She needed some feedback, so she dragged Bellamy forward with her and approached the instructor. “Hi, Luna,” she said. “Thank you so much for everything today. It was all really educational.”

“Thanks,” Luna said, unplugging her computer from the projector, “I’m glad you got something out of it.”

“Oh, definitely.” She’d probably get a lot out of the next session, too, so she was really glad they’d come. “So I was just wondering,” she said, “in your professional opinion, do Bellamy and I seem ready for labor and delivery?”

Luna gave them a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you had to grade us, what would we get?”

Luna laughed a little. “This isn’t the type of class where you get a grade, Clarke.”

“She’s used to straight A’s,” Bellamy informed her.

“Oh, I see.” Luna smiled at them, then said, “You did very well. Both of you. Just remember, though, there’s no right or wrong way to have a baby. It’s all about just being as prepared as you can and letting your body do what’s natural. And it _is_ natural, having a baby. Remember that.”

“Right.” Women had been doing it for centuries, long before epidurals and hospitals and Lamaze class. “I’m just kinda nervous because . . . well, I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s normal to feel that way,” Luna assured her. “But once your child comes into the world, half of him and half of you . . .” She motioned between Clarke and Bellamy. “You’ll forget why you were ever nervous at all.”

_Half of him_ , Clarke thought, plastering on a smile. It wasn’t Luna’s fault. It was only natural to assume that Bellamy had been the one to get her pregnant.

“Good job today,” Luna said before she resumed packing up her supplies.

“Thanks,” Clarke said quietly. She looked over at Bellamy, who had the same look on his face that she did. The kind where he wasn’t going to say anything, because he didn’t want to be rude. But he’d heard it, too. _Half of him_.

Clarke sighed. It was just something they were going to have to deal with and learn to ignore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy decided to let Clarke do most of the talking that night when they went over to her mom’s for dinner. She was very chatty and very animated, following her mom around the kitchen while she cooked. Bellamy just sat at the table and waited for the food to be done, getting a kick out of the way she was rambling.

“The whole thing was really enlightening,” she told her mom. “Like, I never even considered other positions before. I just figured I’d lie down, because that’s what you see in every movie. But it makes sense to stand, I guess, to let gravity do its thing.”

“We’re gonna end up revising that birth plan, aren’t we?” he predicted.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “But that’s okay. A first draft is never the final draft. You always have to revise.”

She sounded like every English teacher he’d ever had. “I never revised any papers I wrote,” he recalled. “I’d just type something up and hand it in.”

Clarke shook her head in mock disapproval.

“Probably explains why I failed so often,” he said. “That and the dyslexia.”

Abby glanced up from the stove, a look of surprise on her face. “You have dyslexia?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t know? Clarke had never told her? “I can read; I just can’t read very well. But I’m gonna read to Avery. A lot. She’s gonna be literary.”

“He keeps buying all these books,” Clarke said.

“Finally found something at my level.” He laughed, but Clarke whimpered and looked sad. “It’s a joke,” he said. He had to make fun of himself once in a while.

“Books are good for babies,” Kane piped up. He’d been relatively quiet, focused on slicing up the ham that would serve as their main course.

“So what else did you learn about today?” Abby inquired.

“Uh, well, we did some practice breathing stuff. That was weird,” Clarke said. “And we learned about pain management techniques, too. I still don’t wanna commit to a natural birth, but I think I wanna hold off on the drugs as long as possible. Luna made it sound like--” The doorbell rang, cutting her off.

“Oh, that’s Callie,” her mom said. “I’ll get it.” Taking off her oven mitt, she scurried towards the front door.

“Callie?” Clarke shot Kane an alarmed look. “She invited her to family dinner night?”

Kane shrugged helplessly and said, “She’s your mother’s best friend.”

“She’s a bitch!” Clarke hissed. She threw her hands in the air, turned to Bellamy, and said, “Okay, we have to get out of here.”

“Right now?” His stomach growled in protest. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“Bellamy, are you forgetting our last run-in with this woman?” she said. “I never apologized for telling her off. And I’m not going to. She deserved it. Now come on, we can just say I started feeling dizzy or something.”

“Actually, I need you to stay,” Kane told her. He finished up with the ham, then lowered his voice and said, “Tonight’s . . . kind of a big night.”

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a curious look, and Clarke asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . it’s a big night for me and your mother.”

_Oh_ , Bellamy thought, connecting the dots. _Got it_.

“You’re proposing?” Clarke exclaimed.

“Shh!”

“Sorry.” Voice now a whisper, she said, “You’re really doing it?”

“Yes,” Kane confirmed. “And I wanted you to be here for it. So please don’t go.”

“Oh, we won’t,” Clarke said. “We gotta see this.”

_How’s he gonna do it?_ Bellamy wondered. Was he gonna pop the question right in front of all of them, or make it a one-on-one thing? Did Abby have any idea, or was it going to be a complete surprise to her? There were so many variables to consider when popping the question. Lately, he’d been considering them himself.

When Abby returned to the kitchen, she had her friend with her. Callie looked . . . pretty hot for a woman her age. But if Clarke ever asked him what he thought of her, Bellamy was prepared to lie and say she was heinous.

“Marcus, it’s always good to see you,” Callie said, giving him an air kiss on either cheek. “You look great.” Her eyes flittered over to Bellamy, and she smiled at him like the cougar she was. “Oh, and look who we have here.”

“Hi,” he said, trying to find that balance between a friendly tone and a distant one. He had to please both Clarke and Abby here, had to be nice to Callie without being too nice to her. Not an easy task.

“Callie, you remember Bellamy,” Abby said.

“Of course,” she said. “How could I forget? Those arms . . .” She was actually ballsy enough to give one of his biceps a squeeze, which caused Clarke to bristle. When she finally spoke to Clarke, it was very tersely. “Hi, Clarke,” she said. “You’ve gotten so big.”

“Oh, really?” Clarke said, putting her hands on her own stomach. “I didn’t notice.”

_Oh, this isn’t gonna go well_ , Bellamy anticipated. It didn’t take much to spark Clarke’s short fuse these days. Just this morning, she’d gotten pissed at him for neglecting to change the batteries in the remote control last night. “Hey, Clarke, come with me for a minute,” he said, getting to his feet. He put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Let’s, uh . . . let’s go upstairs.” If he just got her out of there for a minute, she could calm down and process the fact that Callie was there, and then she’d be fine. Probably.

Once they got upstairs to the privacy of her old bedroom and shut the door, Clarke threw her hands down at her sides and groaned in frustration. “God, she’s _so annoying_ , Bellamy. Did you hear her? ‘You’ve gotten so big.’ Well, you know what? Her . . . face is so big!”

“Her face?” Not exactly her best insult.

“I don’t know why my mom is even friends with her.”

“I know, I know,” he said, rubbing her shoulders. “But she’s gonna get engaged tonight. Let’s just . . . be nice.”

She grunted. “Easy for you to say. Your mood isn’t constantly swinging on a pendulum.”

“Okay, then how about this? If you need a break, we’ll just come up here, and . . .” He grinned, lowering his hands to rest in the curve of her waist. “I can put you in a better mood.”

Her anger and frustration seemed to dissolve the moment he started rubbing her sides and pulling her in closer. “Oh, really?” she said. “How are you gonna do that?”

Well . . . he had a few ideas.

Ten minutes later, after some brief but beautiful sexy time, they returned downstairs and made small-talk until dinner was ready. Once the food was served, the conversation mainly revolved around work. Not his work, and not Clarke’s, but Abby’s and Kane’s. As far as he could tell, Callie didn’t actually have a job. She just lived off the money she’d made in her last divorce. It wasn’t particularly thrilling conversation, but at least it was drama-free.

“That was really good, Mom,” Clarke said as she finished eating.

“Well, thank you, Clarke,” her mom said. “It’s so nice to see you in such a good mood tonight.”

Clarke shot Bellamy a quick look, and they exchanged knowing smiles. Yeah, that good mood was the result of one specific thing.

“You want any more?” her mom offered, holding up the salad bowl, which was still half full.

“No, I gotta save room for dessert,” Clarke said, patting her stomach.

“What about you, Bellamy?”

“No, thanks.” He said. “Everything was . . . delicious.” Beneath the table, he nudged Clarke’s foot, and she nudged his right back. _Delicious indeed._

Callie reinserted herself back into the conversation when she inquired, “So, Clarke, when’s your baby shower?”

“Probably towards the end of March,” Clarke replied.

“That’ll be here before you know it,” Callie said. “Do you need a party planner? I know several.”

“No,” Clarke said, “my friends are gonna plan it for me.”

“Have they ever thrown a baby shower before?”

Clarke paused for a moment, and Bellamy could tell it was taking everything she had to not snap at the woman. “No, but they know me well,” she said, “so they know what I’ll like.”

Bellamy knew he had to get her away from that table, because one more baby shower question from Callie could send her over the edge. “You wanna take a break?” he suggested.

She nodded gratefully and said, “Yeah.”

Worked for him. These breaks were pretty fun.

Once again, they disappeared upstairs in her bedroom, this time for fifteen minutes. He didn’t just go down on her this time. He took her pants off, laid her on the bed, and pulled her hips to the edge of the mattress so he could fuck her. It was really hard for both of them to stay quiet, but they managed.

He was kind of dizzy with pleasure when they left the bedroom and headed back downstairs. He probably had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, but he couldn’t help it. He’d just gotten laid.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I like Callie,” he said as they descended the stairs.

“What?” Clarke spat. “Are you crazy?”

“She’s good for our sex life.” The more Callie agitated Clarke, the more breaks they needed to take. Which was fine by him.

Kane met the mat the bottom of the stairs and said, “Finally. What took you two so long?”

“Sorry,” Clarke said sheepishly, “we were . . .”

“Exercising,” Bellamy filled in. It wasn’t really a lie.

“Right. These stretches that I learned in the class today,” Clarke said. “Bellamy was helping me do them.”

Also not a complete lie. There had been stretching. In a way.

“Well, now that you’re down here, don’t leave,” Kane told them. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Oh, okay, good luck,” Clarke said, giving him a quick hug. “Not that you’ll need it.”

“Thanks.” He took a deep breath, ventured into the kitchen again, where his wife-to-be was loading up the dishwasher, and said, “Abby, come here. Let’s go outside for a minute.”

She insisted on finishing up with the dishwasher, but he took her hand in his, said something quietly to her, and led her out the sliding door into the backyard. They had all sorts of outdoor lamps and lights that made it look pretty romantic back there. Plus, there was the reflection of the moon on the water of the pool and everything. It was a good spot to propose.

“What’s going on?” Callie asked nosily.

“Exactly what it looks like,” Clarke said as she and Bellamy ambled up to the sliding glass door to watch.

Bellamy studied Kane closely, taking mental notes on how to go about such a monumental moment. He must have had the ring in his pocket, but it wasn’t in the box anymore. Without the outline of the box in his pocket, the element of surprise was still in the air. “He’s very smooth,” Bellamy remarked. “I wanna be smooth like that.”

“You are,” Clarke told him.

No, that wasn’t what he meant. He wanted to be smooth when he _proposed_ someday. To her.

All three of them continued to watch as Kane pulled out the ring at the same time he got down on one knee. Abby’s hands flew upward to cover her mouth, and she started to cry.

“What do you think he’s saying to her?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy looked at her, imagining what he would say, or at least what he might say. “He’s probably telling her how he’s never been so happy, and how she’s the love of his life. And how he wants to be with her forever.” He completely forgot about Kane and Abby and just gazed at her, noticing the excited twinkle in her eye. Maybe she was just really happy for her mom. Or maybe she was envisioning the same thing happening to herself someday soon.

“And there it is,” she said.

Bellamy finally looked out back again, just in time to see Kane slide the ring onto Abby’s shaking hand. They embraced each other and kissed more deeply than Bellamy had ever seen Abby kiss her former husband. In fact, he didn’t ever recall seeing a whole lot of affection between them. What Abby had with Kane seemed to be a lot different.

“Well,” Callie said, arms crossed over her chest. “Good for them.” Her tone said it all: She was pissed Kane was now officially off the market.

Later that night, after they’d finally gotten home—dessert had been delayed on account of the engagement—Bellamy got straight into bed. Clarke must have been tired, too, but she called her dad and told him all about the . . . new development.

“Yeah, it was really nice,” she said as she roamed around the room, getting dressed in her sleepwear. “Mom’s super happy.”

Bellamy shifted around in bed, struggling to keep his eyes open. He didn’t want to rush Clarke’s conversation with her dad, but it was already 11:00, and he had to be up early for work.

“I don’t know. Probably before the end of the year,” Clarke went on. “Knowing Mom, she’s probably already planning. Or it could end up being way later if her plans are super extravagant.”

Bellamy yawned, wondering if Clarke would mind if he nodded off right now. He usually liked to fall asleep with her, especially since she still had those bad dreams sometimes.

“What? Don’t say that,” Clarke said suddenly.

_Don’t say what?_ Bellamy wondered, his interest piquing enough to keep him awake.

“No. Look, I love Kane, and he already feels like my stepfather,” Clarke went on. “But you don’t have to worry, Dad. I’m always gonna be your daughter. No one’s ever gonna replace you.”

Was that really what they were talking about? Jake was worried Kane was going to take his place? Wouldn’t happen.

“Alright, glad I could put your mind at ease,” Clarke said, and it sounded like the conversation was winding down. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Okay. I love you, too. Bye.” She ended the call, set her phone down on the nightstand, and said, “Well, he took that pretty well,” as she got into bed.

He didn’t say anything. Not because he was tired. But because he kept thinking about what she’d just said to Jake. _No one’s ever gonna replace you._

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” It was late, probably too late to talk about something so heavy.

“You’re really quiet,” she noted.

“I’m tired.” She had to be tired, too, right? They could just both go to sleep.

She looked at him closely and said, “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“It’s just . . .” Dammit, he didn’t want to unpack his insecurities right now, but Clarke knew him so well. He couldn’t hide the fact that something was bothering him. “Hearing you say what you just said to your dad . . . It just gets me thinking about me and Avery, and what it’ll be like for us.” Would she always be his daughter? Would she grow up to tell him that no one could ever replace him?

“You’re her dad, Bellamy,” Clarke reminded him softly.

“I know. But then there’s her real dad . . .”

“You _are_ her real dad.”

It was nice to hear her say that, but they both knew what he was referring to. “Fine, her biological dad,” he amended. “And it’s not like he lives in another town or another state. He’s right here in Arkadia. She’ll run into him in the store someday; she’ll walk past him on the street.”

“Yeah, but . . . it won’t even compare to what you have with her,” she said. “He’s not gonna be there for all the important moments, all the birthdays and holidays, or her first words or first steps. You don’t need to worry.”

He nodded, swallowing the small lump that had begun to form in his throat. Yeah, she was probably right. So far, he’d been there for the important stuff. The first ultrasound. The gender reveal. Feeling her kick. He wasn’t gonna miss a thing. And Finn was. But the crazy part about it was that, even if Finn did miss things, even he missed _everything_ . . . he’d always get to claim that he was Avery’s father. No matter what.

“Is she gonna call him Dad?” he asked Clarke. “Or is that just gonna be for me?”

Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Her eyes got a little watery, and when she finally did answer, he had to give her credit for being honest. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess that’ll be a decision she has to make someday.”

He let out a heavy sigh and nodded, knowing he’d just have to accept that fact. When Avery was old enough to decide what she wanted to call Finn, he had to be okay with it if she wanted to call him Dad, too. He couldn’t make her feel guilty.

“Hey,” Clarke said, placing her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I love you. And Avery’s gonna love you.” She smiled, sliding her hand down his chest and over his stomach to take one of his hands in hers. “In fact,” she said, guiding his hand to her stomach, “she already does.”

He never got tired of it, feeling Avery kick. In a few more weeks, he’d be able to hold her in his arms, to kiss her cheek. He’d get to see her. They both would. “I love her, too,” he said, gazing at Clarke’s belly in awe. They had a little girl in there, a daughter. And maybe she wouldn’t be part of him genetically or biologically. But she’d be part of him in every other way that mattered. She’d be the best part.


	46. Chapter 46

_Chapter 46_

When Clarke had first met Murphy—at a party per Raven’s introduction—she’d assumed he was crazy wanting to make a career out of being a YouTuber. But now that she’d gotten to know him and had glimpsed the success he had on his channel, she was starting to believe he was crazy like a fox. The guy was a media genius and was gaining subscribers all the time. He had more than enough money to move Raven out of that studio apartment they shared, but he was saving it for the time being. They’d probably end up in their own beach house someday.

Clarke used to mostly tune Murphy out when he started talking about videos, only because she wasn’t a huge YouTube-watcher herself. But now that she was the focus of his documentary, she was curious about how it would roll out. When he stopped by the bar and started yakking her ear off about how he was going to promote the series, she was actually genuinely interested and even questioned him about it. “So when are you releasing the trailer?” she asked as she poured him another drink.

“Probably within the next month,” he replied. “It takes a while to edit.”

He probably should have hired an editor then—he could surely afford one by now—but Clarke knew that Murphy was a control freak with his content. He liked to film and edit everything himself. “Do you have enough footage?” she inquired.

“Oh, I have more footage than you know,” he bragged.

“That’s creepy.”

“Well, it’s not like I have anything of you guys . . . you know.” He gave her a suspicious look. “Why? Is there . . . does that kind of footage exist?”

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “No. Bellamy and I haven’t filmed _that_.”

“Ever?”

She thought back to a night in high school when Bellamy had taken his phone out and . . . well . . . “That’s beside the point,” she said.

Pretending to jot something down on his hand, Murphy mumbled, “Note to self: Find the Bellarke sex tape.”

“Shut up, Murphy,” she snapped, although now that she was thinking about it . . . where _had_ that footage gone? Did Bellamy still have it on his phone, because if he did . . . watch party for the two of them only.

Unfortunately, before her mind could wander too far down the path of perversion, Clarke started to feel something unusual. It was like a tightening sensation in her abdomen. Not exactly pain, but a slight discomfort, enough for her to notice it and distinguish it as something other than her regular third trimester aches. “Oh . . .” she groaned, pressing her hand to her stomach.

“What is it?” Murphy asked.

“Nothing,” she said, waiting for the pain to go away. “I just . . .” She frowned, not sure what had brought this on. It wasn’t going to double her over or anything, but . . . it just felt weird.

“Kicking?” Murphy guessed.

“No.” Kicking was a sensation she knew well. “I feel kind of cramped.” It almost felt like she had her period again and was getting a menstrual cramp.

“Is that normal?” Murphy stood up from his barstool, looking a bit worried now. “Should I call Bellamy?”

“No, he’s at work.” The feeling started to subside, and she let out a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to convince herself of that as much as she was trying to convince her friend. “I think I’m fine.” She’d done so much reading about how most of the aches and pains felt during the third trimester were just typical pregnancy pains. Nothing abnormal. Nothing to be alarmed about. Nothing at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For some reason, ever since he’d started working construction, Bellamy had had problems with the circular saw. And since it was a commonly used tool, it was pretty fucking embarrassing to constantly get his saw stuck in the very wood it was supposed to be slicing. With Roan home with his sick daughters for a few days, though, Bellamy had to step it up a bit and assume more of the responsibilities than his friend usually did. He tried his hand at operating a lot of tools he had yet to become particularly proficient with, that circular saw among them. After nearly a whole day of slicing up plywood, he felt like he was finally getting pretty good at it. His cuts were smooth and even, and the blade wasn’t getting stuck in the wood anymore.

Since construction sites were notoriously noisy, Bellamy never heard his phone ring while he was at work. Once in a while he felt it vibrate in his pocket, though, as was the case when he set down the saw. He took his safety headphones and glasses off and checked the screen to see who was calling before he answered. _Murphy_.

“Hey, man, I can’t really talk right now,” he said. “I’m on the clock.”

“Bellamy, don’t freak out.”

In an instant, the noise of all the other saws and jackhammers around him just faded out, and all he could hear was his own heart pounding in fear. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t freak out,” Murphy repeated, “but Clarke’s in the hospital.”

Clarke? In the _hospital?_ Why? She was supposed to have been at work, so something bad must’ve happened.

He ended up leaving without even telling Emerson. He walked right off that site and made Murphy tell him everything he knew. Which wasn’t much. He’d been at the bar with Clarke when she’d started having some pain in her stomach, and eventually she’d asked him to take her to the hospital. Murphy wasn’t back in the hospital room with her, though, so he couldn’t tell Bellamy anything more. The rest of the drive there, Bellamy’s mind ran wild with all sorts of horrible speculation, the worst of which was that she was going into labor really early. Too early. Babies could survive when they were born two months prematurely, but there were lots of complications. And sometimes they didn’t make it.

When he got to the hospital, he ran inside, spotted Murphy roaming around the waiting room, and boomed, “Where is she?”

“She’s just finishing up,” Murphy told him. “She’s okay.”

“What happened?”

“It was a false alarm,” Murphy said. “She didn’t want you to worry, but I thought I should call you.”

He wasn’t going to allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief, though. Not yet. “And the baby?” Nothing was fine unless both of them were fine.

Before Murphy could respond, Clarke came into the waiting room, looking tired but otherwise okay. “The baby’s fine,” she said. “Dr. Jackson did a full exam. Everything’s still normal.”

He immediately went to her and gave her a hug, relieved to see her standing and walking instead of lying in a hospital bed screaming the way he’d envisioned. “Then what was wrong?” he asked, keeping one arm around her. “Why were you in pain?”

“Braxton Hicks contractions,” she answered. “They’re not the real thing. They don’t hurt too bad, and they don’t last very long. It’s just like . . . like a period cramp. But I got kinda worried, so Murphy offered to drive me here and . . .”

“Why didn’t you call me?” he interrupted.

“I didn’t wanna scare you,” she said. “Look, it turned out to be nothing.”

“But you have to call me, Clarke. That’s what I’m here for.” Hell, he was glad Murphy hadn’t listened to her and had gotten him there. He would have hated to still be at work right now, mindlessly slicing through that plywood with no idea that all of this was going on.

“I know,” she said. “It’s just kind of embarrassing to make such a big deal out of nothing.”

He gave her shoulders a squeeze and said, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” That was the most important thing.

“Well, I _am_ under strict orders to go home and rest,” she said, “so I hope you don’t mind waiting on me.”

He smiled at her, happy to do that for the next couple of months if that was what she needed. “I don’t mind.” He was faintly aware that Murphy had stepped back and was filming them on his phone now, but he didn’t even bother to glance in that direction. Because he didn’t want to take his eyes off of Clarke. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You comfy?” Bellamy asked as he pulled the covers up over Clarke’s lap.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“You sure?”

“Yes. You’re taking good care of me.” He’d fluffed out every pillow so she could sit against them in bed, and he’d made sure she had some water within reaching distance and the remote control in her hand. She was poised to fall asleep right there with the TV on, because even though it was only 6:00, she was exhausted after today. It was supposed to have been just another mundane shift at the bar, followed up by a little mundane studying this evening. But it hadn’t ended up being that.

“You know what I’m gonna do while you rest?” he said, walking over to the closet. He opened it, reached up onto the top shelf, and pulled down her rarely used black duffle bag. “I’m gonna pack up your hospital bag,” he decided, unzipping it.

“Oh, yeah, my app did say it was time to start thinking about that.” After today, she supposed there was no harm in being prepared.

“We’re not just gonna think about it. We’re gonna do it,” he said, setting the empty bag on the foot of the bed. “This will do, right?” Without even waiting for her response, he walked back over to the closet, mumbling, “You’ll need clothes. Comfortable clothes.”

“Cute clothes,” she corrected. There were going to be a lot of photos taken of her and the baby while they were in the hospital and shortly after they left, and she wanted to look nice in them.

He dumped a bunch of _not_ cute clothes into the bag, so Clarke made a mental note to repack it later. “And bras,” he said, rifling through the second dresser drawer. “Underwear.”

“Old underwear,” she said. “I might be . . . bleeding some.” According to research, she could expect to possibly bleed for four to six weeks after giving birth.

“What about socks?” he said, after tossing some of her infamous ‘period panties’ into the duffle. “Your feet might get cold.”

She smiled at him, finding it adorable how helpful he was being. She was pretty sure the hospital would have socks she could wear if they forgot to bring some. But he was trying to think of everything.

“Let’s see, what else?” he said, already venturing into the bathroom after he added socks to the bag. “Toothbrush, toothpaste.”

“I’ve got some travel-sized stuff in there,” she called after him. Travel-sized stuff was just so much easier to pack. “You know, you don’t have to pack all this up tonight.”

Emerging from the bathroom with his hands full of toiletries, he said, “I want to. Just so we’re prepared,” and shoved all her travel-sized products into the front pockets of her bag. “What else?”

“Uh, clothes for the baby.”

“Right.”

She stopped him before he could head into the nursery by saying, “I wanna pick those out.”

He came back, put his hands atop her bag, and said, “Okay, we’ll probably want a blanket for her, though, right? And maybe some toys?”

“Well, how about something for us to do to pass the time?” she suggested. “Magazines, my sketchbook, my iPad. Labor can be a long process, you know.”

“And food,” he added. “I don’t wanna live off the vending machines.”

Hopefully they wouldn’t be there so long that they felt like they were living off of anything. “You know what would make this a lot more enjoyable for me?” she said, grinning at him flirtatiously.

“What?”

“If you did all of this with your shirt off.” Sure, she had the TV for entertainment, but there was nothing on. And nothing entertained her more than sexy Bellamy.

He laughed, shook his head, but then peeled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside anyway. “That better?” he asked.

“Much.” The doctor’s orders to rest meant that they couldn’t have any sex tonight. But this was sort of the next best thing.

****

_Cheer practice at the hotel had been grueling but productive. For nearly three hours, Raven had run them through their routine. Over and over again. With very few breaks. Most of the girls had checked out by the end of it, but Clarke tried to remain focused for her best friend’s sake. Being the captain couldn’t have been an easy job. She had to be stern with them, otherwise they’d slack off. And with the competition tomorrow, they couldn’t afford to do that._

_Thankfully, once they were done, they were all able to head back to their rooms and change into their swimsuits to hit the pool. As a squad, they walked down to the first floor, and as the pool came into view, Clarke spotted some familiar faces. And bodies. Particularly Bellamy’s. He and Zeke and Miller, along with a few of the other athletes at their school, were already there, swimming around and looking damn attractive._

_“Oh, look, the boys are here,” one of the other cheerleaders remarked. “I wonder when they showed up.”_

_“Probably about an hour ago,” Raven answered._

_Clarke cast her friend a questioning look and asked, “Did you know they got here?”_

_She hesitated before admitting, “Zeke . . . may have texted me.”_

_All the girls groaned, and Clarke was the one to vocalize their disappointment when she asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”_

_“Because we needed to practice, and we needed to focus on practicing,” Raven said. “But now that we got that out of the way, we can relax and have some fun.”_

_“Yes!” a few of the girls whispered, which caused Raven to quickly tack on, “But not too much fun.”_

Oh, I’m gonna have a _lot_ of fun, _Clarke thought, leading the way to the pool with Raven. She and Bellamy had . . . plans._

_When the guys saw them approaching, they stopped what they were doing and whistled. Zeke exclaimed, “Damn, girls!”_

_“Well, well, well, look at our fan club,” Raven said._

_Jasper, whose lanky frame stood out in stark contrast to all the buff athletes, leaned towards Bellamy and quietly asked, “Am I in heaven?”_

_“No, state cheer,” Bellamy said, “but a lot of people make that mistake.” He smiled at Clarke, and she felt herself blush._

_“You girls look good,” Roger said, wriggling his eyebrows._

_“Uh-uh, Roger, none of that,” Raven scolded, shaking her finger at him. “Now don’t get me wrong, it’s very flattering that you guys came to support us this weekend. It isn’t very often people cheer for the cheerleaders. But my squad is here on a mission, and we have strict rules to adhere to.”_

_Clarke was barely listening, and as Bellamy’s eyes gazed into hers, she could tell Raven’s words were going in one ear and out the other for him, too._

_“Curfew is 9:00,” Raven said sternly. “There will be no . . . mingling in the rooms. We have to get up early tomorrow, and we have to be sharp and rested. Understood?”_

_Nobody claimed to understand, and nobody agreed to follow the rules. But Zeke came close to the edge of the pool and said to Raven, “You’re so sexy when you take charge, baby.”_

_When he grabbed her legs, she yelped, “Zeke!” But there was nothing she could do to prevent him from pulling her in. The other girls followed suit, squealing and jumping into the water. Clarke took a step back, though, and Bellamy waded towards her._

_“You gonna get in?” he said._

_“That depends. Is the water warm?” she asked in return._

_“Oh, yeah.”_

_She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head skeptically. “I don’t believe you. Last time you said that, I ended up in a cold ocean.”_

_“Having hot sex with me in a cold ocean,” he reminded her. “Come on.”_

_There was no doubt she was getting into that pool, but she was a wimp when it came to cold water and wasn’t as inclined to just jump in like the other girls had. “No, Bellamy, wait,” she said as he got out of the water. “Just let me ease in.”_

_He shook his head and reached out for her._

_“Bellamy!” She couldn’t dart away fast enough. He grabbed her around the waist and flung her into that water like she weighed nothing, and yep, it was pretty cold. He jumped right back in after her and started splashing her, so she laughed and splashed him back. Then at one point she tried swimming away from him because his splashes were so much bigger than hers, but he just swam after her and had no problem catching her. They played around with dunking each other, and eventually, she crawled up onto his shoulders and sat there while Raven did the same with Zeke. They battled it out, each trying to push each other off, and they both ended up falling back into the water around the same time. It was all pretty juvenile. In fact, they made the actual little kids in the pool look calm and mature in comparison. But it was so_ fun.

_After about two hours in the pool, most everyone else had either gotten tired or just plain shriveled, and they all left to go to their rooms and take a shower. But Clarke and Bellamy stayed, long after everyone else was gone. When they were the only two left in the pool, it automatically felt more romantic, and Clarke longed for the privacy of the beach and the ocean, where they could skinny-dip without offending anyone. But if they tried that here, they’d be kicked out. And her mom would just love that._

_Raven came out to the pool about an hour before curfew and reminded her, “9:00, Clarke.”_

_“Got it,” she said, kicking her legs up behind herself so she could float on her stomach while grabbing hold of the edge of the pool. Bellamy was lounging with his arms up on the side, lifting his torso out of the water and giving her the perfect view of his chest._

_When Raven left, he asked, “So . . . no mom or dad this weekend?”_

_“Nope,” she said. “My dad’s away on work, and my mom ended up getting scheduled for a major surgery tomorrow. So it’s just us.” As nice as it would have been to have them there to see the routines she and Raven and the rest of the squad had been working on for months, being there with just her friends and her boyfriend was better._

_“Raven seems pretty set on her rules,” he noted._

_“Well, it’s like she said, we’re on a mission.”_

_“To do what?”_

_“Win.” Her feet started to sink beneath the surface, so she kicked them back up again. “Last year we got fourth. Such a letdown.”_

_“Ah, you guys will win,” he said confidently. “I know it.”_

I hope so, _Clarke thought. She wasn’t as passionate about cheer as Raven was, nor was she as talented. But it still meant a lot to her to be there representing the school, and she wanted to represent well._

_“You didn’t come to this last year,” she said, wondering if she might have made her move on him earlier if he had. She’d always thought Bellamy was cute, and even as a shy freshman, it would have been hard not to notice him if he’d been swimming around in these swim trunks that left so little to the imagination._

_“Well, I didn’t have a girlfriend on the squad last year,” he pointed out._

_She smiled at him, appreciating that word._ Girlfriend. _Out of all the girls in the school who wanted to be Bellamy’s girlfriend, she actually got to be._

_He turned towards her, and she let her legs drop beneath the water as he leaned in and kissed her. It was a slow kiss, but a deep one, the kind that would inevitably lead to something more. As their lips parted, he pressed his forehead against hers and said, “I got a room to myself. Sneak in there tonight.”_

_“I want to,” she said. “But Raven--”_

_“She doesn’t need to know.” His breath mingled with hers as he whispered those words, those tempting words, and she knew she was a goner. Hopefully the other girls abided by the curfew, but . . . she just wasn’t going to. She couldn’t. Being in a hotel with Bellamy was too good of an opportunity to pass up._

_After she finally got out of the pool and parted ways with Bellamy, Clarke went to the room she was sharing with Raven, got in the shower, blew dry her hair, and then put an oversized t-shirt on (one of Bellamy’s football ones), and crawled into bed, pretending that she was trying to fall asleep while Raven went out and did a room check for the rest of the squad at 9:00 sharp. She texted Bellamy a quick_ ‘wait for me’ _and received a picture of his dick in response. So he was definitely eager._

_When Raven returned at about 9:15, Clarke asked, “Everyone in their rooms?”_

_“Yep. Just like they’re supposed to be,” Raven said proudly. “Time for bed.” She crawled underneath the covers of her bed, shut off the lamp, and said, “Sweet dreams.”_

_“Goodnight,” Clarke said, but dreams were nowhere close. In fact, all she could think about was the sweet reality down the hall. Her boyfriend was lying awake, just like she was, ready and waiting for her. Waiting to get his hands on her._

_Unfortunately, Raven didn’t snore or even breathe with her mouth open or do anything to indicate when she might have fallen asleep. So Clarke stayed quiet and still, waiting at first for ten minutes, then ten more. The problem was, whenever she decided she was going to get up and leave, Raven stirred or rolled over onto her other side. Finally, after half an hour, though, Bellamy texted her, asking if she was still coming. She responded with a simple_ yes _and decided to make a break for it. As silently as she could, she got out of the bed, grabbed her room key, and tiptoed towards the door. She cringed as she opened it, because it made a loud clicking sound, and if Raven wasn’t asleep or was only dozing lightly, she surely would have heard it. But she didn’t move or say anything, so Clarke slipped out into the hall, pulled the door shut quietly, and then stayed on tiptoe as she snuck down the hall towards Bellamy’s room._

Was it 215 or 216? _she thought, struggling to remember. Both had the curtains pulled and were completely silent, so she took a chance and knocked lightly on the door to room 216._ Please be Bellamy’s room, _she prayed, imagining she’d be mortified if some kid or old lady came to the door and saw her standing there in just a t-shirt._

_Thankfully, when the door swung open, it was in fact Bellamy on the other side, and he was completely naked. He didn’t say anything, opting instead to just grab her waist and pull her inside. The door slammed, and they were already kissing as they stumbled towards the bed. He yanked the t-shirt off, his hands sliding all over her skin once she was completely exposed. He grabbed at her breasts, her waist, her hips, her ass, all the while kissing her hungrily. Her hands were busy, too, massaging his chest, grazing his sides, and reaching down in between them to grip his cock. He’d already put a condom on. He was so hard and so ready._

_She was ready, too, no foreplay needed, so she put her hands on his chest and gave him a gentle yet forceful shove back onto the mattress. Crawling on top of him, she straddled his hips and bent forward to capture his lips in her own as the head of his cock jabbed at her pussy. He reached down to hold it steady, and she kept kissing him while she sank down onto him. It felt so good feeling him inside her, like this was just where they were meant to be. And like it was what they were meant to be doing._

_She rolled her hips against him, trying to stay bent forward so her breasts could slide against his chest and so they could still steal some kisses in the midst of fucking. The faster she moved, though, the more rapid and ragged her breathing became, so she pulled back, keeping her face in line with his as they both gasped for air. His hips pushed up into hers, meeting her every movement, plunging him deeper. His hands reached around to cup her ass, and she groaned, probably waking up whoever was in the room next door._

_The more they moved, the hotter Clarke’s body started to feel. Bellamy’s slickened with sweat, too, as their chests and stomachs rubbed together. Clarke wasn’t sure whether they were fucking or making love, but whatever they were doing felt so good. And it was making her feel so much._

****

Clarke had to shake her head to get her mind out of the gutter as Bellamy roamed around the room, packing up all sorts of things she could use to occupy herself in case her labor ran extremely long. But god, him without his shirt on . . . that was always a sight to see.

“You know, I could just take my pants off, too, if you want,” he said as she openly salivated over him. “That’d be a real show.”

It definitely would be, so she urged, “Go right ahead.”

He smirked at her and said, “Okay, then,” as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He got naked, and Clarke got happy. If this was what a night of bedrest entailed, then it wasn’t so bad after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy sat outside the history building on campus, waiting for his sister’s class to let out. When she emerged, she looked as bored and unenthused as the rest of the students. Unlike him, she had no interest in history.

“Look who finally made it to class,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “I make it to class about twice a week.”

He shook his head, not really able to lecture her because, if he hadn’t had football, he probably wouldn’t have even gone to college to begin with.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked him.

“I got an hour lunch break,” he said. “Just wanted to see if you felt like hanging out.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Alright, let’s go.” He started walking, motioning for her to follow him. This wasn’t just a random visit. There was somewhere specific he wanted to go.

“Hey, how’s Clarke?” she asked as they walked along. “I heard she had a scare yesterday.”

“Yeah.” Thankfully it hadn’t been something worse. “But she’s fine. Fake contractions.”

“Oh. That really happens?”

“Apparently.” He felt really bad for her dealing with those now on top of everything else. Being pregnant seemed . . . really hard. But Clarke constantly impressed him with how she handled it.

“Well, good,” Octavia said. “I’m glad she’s okay. That must’ve been scary.”

“Yeah, it was.” She hadn’t had any more Braxton Hicks contractions last night, nor had she said anything about any tightness or pain this morning. She was staying home for another day of rest, and he was making it a point to call her every hour, just to check in.

“Where are we going?” his sister asked as they began to walk past the student union instead of into it.

He smiled and said, “You’ll see.”

From campus to the only jewelry store in town, it was a short walk. He and Octavia made it in minutes, and when they walked in, she set her backpack down behind the counter so she didn’t knock over any jewelry displays.

“Wow,” she said as they browsed a whole bunch of diamond rings inside a large display case. “I figured you’d propose, but I thought it’d be after the baby’s born.”

He shrugged. “Why wait, you know? You gotta help me find a ring.”

Octavia snorted. “Don’t know how much help I’ll be. I’m not a jewelry girl. They all just look like pretty diamonds to me. Maybe you should’ve brought Raven.”

“No, I don’t want anyone to know except you and Mom,” he said. “You gotta keep it a secret, alright?”

“Of course,” she promised.

“I mean it, O. Remember when I was twelve and I tried to hide those _Playboys_ under my bed?” he recalled.

She laughed. “And then I found them.”

“Right, and then you told Mom, even though I asked you not to.” He’d gotten grounded for a week because of that, missed out on a junior high football game.

“I just wanted to get you in trouble,” she said, smirking. But then she reassured him, “Relax, I won’t tell anyone. This is a little more serious than pornography.”

It sure as hell was, so if she let anything slip, he was going to be pissed.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Octavia said, waving a sales associate over. “He’s looking for an engagement ring, and he’s clueless. Can you help him?”

“Oh, sure,” the woman said, smiling politely at him. “Do you know what cut you’re looking for?”

He made a face. “Cut?” What did that mean?

“Yes,” she said. “Round cut, pear cut, princess cut . . .”

Not one of those cuts sounded familiar, but one of them did sound intriguing. “I’m sorry,” he said, “did you just say . . . princess cut?”


	47. Chapter 47

_Chapter 47_

Everyone who had shown up to Lamaze class last week seemed to have returned for week two. Clarke got there before Bellamy, because he’d gone to work for a few hours that morning. While she waited for him to show up, she chatted with another couple, both of whom seemed to be in their late twenties, Brooke and Elijah. Judging by the rings on their fingers, they were husband and wife.

“So do you know what you’re having?” Clarke asked her fellow expectant mother.

“A boy,” Brooke replied, smiling. “You?”

“A girl.” Clarke rubbed her stomach lovingly. “We’re naming her Avery.”

“That’s pretty,” Brooke said. “We haven’t decided on a name yet.”

“Yes, we have,” her husband jumped in. “Brandon.”

“Well, he’s decided on Brandon. I want something a bit more . . . unusual.”

“Oh, well, my boyfriend’s name is Bellamy,” Clarke said. That probably qualified as unusual. She turned around just in time to see him walking in the door, and she said, “In fact, here he is now. Hey, babe.”

“Hey.” He bent down and gave her a quick kiss. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No, we haven’t even started. This is Brooke and Elijah,” she introduced him. “We’ve been talking.”

“Hey, I’m Bellamy,” he said, shaking both of their hands.

“So we’re told,” Brooke said. “So . . . first baby for you two?”

Bellamy sat down next to Clarke, grinning as he took off his jacket. “Yeah, but not the last.”

As much as she definitely wanted to have a baby with Bellamy someday, Clarke couldn’t even think about being pregnant again. She had to get through this pregnancy first. “What about you guys?” she asked the other couple. “I assume it’s your first, too, since you’re here?”

“Well . . .” Brooke exchanged a look with her husband, then quietly revealed, ”We were pregnant once before, but . . . I had a miscarriage.”

_Oh, crap_ , Clarke thought, feeling like she’d just opened some old wounds for them. Unintentionally, of course, but still . . . “Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “My dad and his girlfriend recently had a miscarriage and . . . I’m just really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Brooke said. “It’s tragic, but it happens.”

“We’re just glad to be in the second trimester now,” Elijah tacked on, putting his arm around his wife.

“I’ll bet.” Clarke still felt bad, for bringing it up, but at least they seemed to be focusing on the future instead of dwelling on the past. That was hard to do sometimes.

As Luna came into the room, Brooke said, “Well, looks like we’re about to start. We’d better sit down. But it was nice talking to you, Clarke.”

“Yeah, you, too.” Clarke gave them a little wave goodbye as they made their way over to the other side of the makeshift classroom and took a seat at their own table.

“That’s pretty cool, huh?” Bellamy said.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, not the fact that they had a miscarriage, but . . . they didn’t let that stop them,” he said. “Didn’t work out with the first baby, but they tried again. And now they’re gonna have one.”

It definitely hadn’t worked out. But it wasn’t their fault. A miscarriage wasn’t a choice; it wasn’t something they had any control over. “Yeah,” she said, looking back over at the other couple. They looked so wholesome and happy. And that was what they deserved.

“Alright, everyone, welcome back for week two of Lamaze class,” Luna said, somehow managing to get everyone’s attention even though her voice wasn’t exactly blaring. “This is the day I like to refer to as Newborn Baby Bootcamp. Now I assure you, no questions are too stupid. In fact, none of your questions are. Whatever you find yourself curious about as we discuss things today, please just ask.”

Clarke took out the same notebook she used for her biology classes, along with a pen. Even though Luna made sure all the material they covered was available to them online, there was something about writing down the information that made her feel more confident in her ability to remember it. Bellamy, of course, just leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, prepared to listen.

The first thing Luna did was take an impromptu survey among the moms about who was considering breastfeeding. All but one of them raised their hand, so she began on that topic, but not before assuring the mom who didn’t want to breastfeed that formula was a perfectly fine choice as well. They learned all about how to situate both themselves and the baby, looked at diagrams and photos, and then practiced with dolls. Of course, there was no _real_ way to practice, so Luna recommended that they work with a lactation consultant before leaving the hospital. Did the hospital here in Arkadia even have a lactation consultant? Clarke jotted down a note to ask her mom about it.

Clarke was so focused on all the information, as were the other moms, but it seemed to her that some of the men were spacing out. Maybe they didn’t think they had to pay attention to the breastfeeding basics since it didn’t really involve them, but towards the end, Luna devoted about ten minutes to offering the men some advice about how they could help. Things like getting the mom comfortably set up, doing some chores around the house while she was feeding, and burping the baby afterwards. She also noted the need for patience and understanding when it came to physical intimacy during the breastfeeding period. Clarke would have felt embarrassed as hell talking about such a thing, but Luna was very professional. “Your partner may want you to limit attention on her breasts, or stay away from them completely,” she cautioned the men, “even if they were once an erogenous zone for her. You have to remember that she’ll be viewing them as a food source, for the time being. Be patient with her if she doesn’t find breast play sexy.”

“Dammit,” Bellamy muttered, just loud enough for Clarke to hear it. She just shrugged, figuring they’d have to cross that bridge when they came to it. Bellamy had always had a thing for her boobs. They were, after all, one of her most notable physical assets.

Breastfeeding took up a substantial amount of time, but after that, they moved onto things like car seats and baby proofing. The car seat she wasn’t too worried about, because Raven had strongly hinted that she was going to get one at her baby shower. But the baby proofing practically made her head spin. Luna gave them all a long list of things that needed to be done before the baby started crawling, and it was daunting. They needed window locks and doorstops, safety gates for both the top and bottom of the stairs, a fire guard for the fireplace. Not to mention locks and latches on any cupboard that could be within the baby’s reach. Plus, there had to be edge guards on all the furniture that could be dangerous, and things like bookcases or a chest of drawers had to be secured to keep from toppling over. How expensive was all of that going to be?

As if that wasn’t enough of an information dump, they returned from a half an hour lunch break to learn all about newborn care from head to toe. Everything from clipping their fingernails to examining the color of their poop. Seriously. Some colors were apparently normal, and others were not. They also learned about the umbilical cord. Clarke had no idea it was going to be a little stump that would shrivel up and fall off within one to two weeks after birth. Seeing pictures of it seemed to catch Bellamy off guard, too. “That looks kinda weird,” he remarked quietly. “Did I start out like that?” He laughed, then joked, “No, of course not. I was always a stud.”

It was good that Bellamy could maintain a sense of humor about everything, because Clarke was starting to get a hand cramp from all the notes she was feverishly taking. They learned about bathing and how to deal with sleep patterns, how to handle crying and when to call the pediatrician. They also practiced swaddling the same dolls they’d used for breastfeeding. Bellamy was a natural at that, but Clarke started getting frustrated when she didn’t catch on right away. She wasn’t used to having to go back and relearn something, but Luna worked with her one-on-one, and eventually, she got the hang of it.

Towards the end, either as a way of making all the moms laugh or as a way of learning about how supportive partners could be, Luna got all the men to come up to the front with the swaddled baby dolls and do their best . . . well, she called it a daddy dance. She played “Cat’s in the Cradle” and encouraged them all to sway around the room with the dolls, rocking them gently and maybe even singing to them. Apparently the lower male tone was very calming to a lot of babies. And no one’s voice was lower than Bellamy’s. He really went for it, perhaps a little too much, because he dropped the baby at one point. Everyone gasped, as if it were more than just a doll, but he just picked it up again, said, “She’s alright,” and picked up right where he’d left off.

Before leaving, Clarke made sure to pick up hard copies of all the information Luna had and thanked her profusely. As stressful as all this preparation was, she was thankful to have taken the class.

“Do you feel more prepared now?” Bellamy asked as they walked towards the parking lot.

“Kind of,” she said. “But it’s all pretty overwhelming. I mean, breastfeeding alone . . . I have a lot of decisions to make with that. Like, am I gonna feed her in public?” Right now, the thought of doing that made her self-conscious, but she suspected she’d feel differently once the baby came. “What do you think?”

“That’s up to you,” he said.

She supposed a lot of the breastfeeding stuff was up to her. She’d have to look into it a little more. “Did you know that it’s illegal in Idaho?” she said.

He made a face. “Seriously?”

“Well, maybe not _illegal_ , but they don’t have any laws protecting moms from, like, indecent exposure charges.”

Bellamy snorted angrily. “That’s crap.”

“I know. I’m glad we don’t live in Idaho.” At least if she did feed in public here, no one could claim she was breaking the law. But of course, some people would probably still make a big deal out of it. Or stare.

“If anyone ever gives you a hard time about it, I’ll let ‘em have it,” Bellamy promised.

“I’m sure you will.” Maybe she’d make sure he was around if she decided to whip one out. But then again, what if he wasn’t and the baby needed fed? They’d just gotten done learning how important it was to let the baby feed when it wanted to. “What else do we have to think about?” she said, flipping through the mass of scribbles in her notebook. “Oh, the baby proofing. That sounds intense.”

“Monty can do it,” Bellamy declared.

“Monty? Since when is Monty a baby proofer?” There were people who did that for a living. They could just hire someone.

“If that guy can figure out how to program a computer, he can figure out how to baby proof a house,” Bellamy said. Typical Bellamy logic. He put his arm around her shoulders and said, “Don’t stress about all this stuff, alright? We’re gonna be fine.”

_I hope so_ , Clarke thought as they approached their separate cars. It just felt like there were so many different things that could go wrong.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The annual LGBTQ Awareness fundraiser on campus was _such_ a hassle. Clarke didn’t even feel like going, but since it was the only club she was involved in on campus, she felt like she sort of had to show up. Even though her back was hurting. Even though her feet were swollen. Even though she would have much rather just stayed home.

Thankfully, Lexa was attending the fundraiser, too, so Clarke knew she’d at least have someone to hang out with. Remaining friends with her ex had turned out to be a wonderful thing. Lexa looked awesome, too, with her hair braided on the sides and perched up in a fauxhawk down the middle. Plus, she was wearing a t-shirt with the Nike logo that said _Just Do Her_ in rainbow colors. Clarke had opted for a shirt she’d ordered online that said, _If You Play for Both Teams, You’ll Always Win._

“Hey, look at this,” Lexa said, her eyes downcast on her phone as they walked towards the student union. “It’s a video about giving birth.”

Clarke grunted. “Yeah, I’ve watched enough of those.”

Lexa made a face as she let the video play. “Ew,” she said. “It’s kind of gross. How’s your body gonna do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it.” She just kept repeating the things Luna had said in Lamaze class, about how giving birth was natural, how women had been doing it for centuries, and so on and so forth.

“Well, if there was ever a benefit to being a lesbian, this is it,” Lexa decided, pocketing her phone. She shuddered exaggeratedly.

“Hey, who knows? You might wanna have a baby someday,” Clarke pointed out. Obviously Lexa wasn’t going to be sleeping with any men, but artificial insemination and all that.

“No thanks. I’ll leave birth to you,” Lexa said. “Have fun with that.”

Clarke grimaced. If these stupid Braxton Hicks contractions were a preview for real thing, then labor was going to suck. Braxton Hicks contractions were like period cramps, and period cramps sucked. But everything she’d heard from her mom and from things she’d read online made it sound like having a baby was period cramps on steroids.

When they walked into the grand ballroom— _grand_ was a stretch—where the event was being held, Anya spotted them right away and approached them with decorations in both hands. “Clarke. Lexa. You’re here,” she greeted them coldly. “Ten minutes late.”

“We had to walk,” Lexa said.

“You couldn’t have walked faster?”

“No, actually, we couldn’t,” Clarke jumped in. “My balance is crap these days, and I get out of breath really easily.” They’d actually had to make a pit-stop about a block and a half away from the parking lot just so she could sit on a bench for a few minutes.

Anya took on a condescending tone as she remarked, “Those sound like excuses to me.” She didn’t give them any instruction on what they were supposed to be doing or delegate any responsibilities to either of them. Instead, she spun and walked over to the barest wall to put up a poster of . . . Abraham Lincoln? Clarke had to peer closer to recognize that it said _Gaybraham_ beneath it.

“I hate her,” she said. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

“Obligation,” Lexa replied. Then she called over to Miller, who was hanging rainbow colored streamers from the ceiling, “Hey, you need some help?”

Clarke knew she’d be of no assistance there. She couldn’t very well stand on a ladder, so that left her to help with the ground level decorations. She walked over to Anya again and asked, “What can I do?” She was there to help set up, do her duty as a club member.

“Well, most of the hard work’s already done,” Anya said. “And it’s not like you can really help out much what with your . . . condition and all.”

Clarke made a face? Her condition? Her _condition?_ She didn’t have a fucking condition; she was pregnant.

“Here,” Anya said, handing her a wicker basket full of cloth napkins. “You can fold these.”

It was about the most monotonous, mundane task Anya could have given her, but Clarke decided not to complain. She took the basket, sat down at the nearest table, and began folding. She got online and looked up some tutorials to make the napkins look . . . impressive. Some of it was like origami, though, which she’d never been particularly good at, so she opted for one that was simple enough and allowed her to fold the napkin in a way that made it look like an envelope. It was kind of cute. She roamed around from table to table, placing one on every plate.

About an hour later, the doors for the public opened, and Clarke never wanted to see another napkin again. Lots of people complimented them, though, and said they looked cute. Anya didn’t, of course, since she was always cranky.

“Looks like people are starting to show up,” Lexa remarked, as some other college students strolled in. “Is Bellamy coming?”

“Probably. It’s either this or a guys night at the bar,” Clarke said.

“Oh, I’d go for the guys night, no question.”

Clarke laughed, a little bit sadly. “Are we horrible people for not being more enthused about this?”

Lexa snorted. “No. I mean, I know it’s raising money for a good cause, but Anya’s a tyrant. She turns everything that’s supposed to be fun into a chore.”

“Definitely,” Clarke agreed. It was a shame, too, because her freshman year, the LGBTQ club had been a blast. She’d gotten to know a lot of people there, including Lexa. But someone else had been leading it then, and it hadn’t been the same since Anya had taken it over. How Miller was still in it after all these years was anybody’s guess. He’d already graduated, so he could have cut his ties with the group completely. It wasn’t like he had a problem meeting guys.

“I guess I’ll just have to make my own fun,” Lexa said, grinning at her phone as she read a text.

“Costia?” Clarke guessed.

“Yep.” Lexa’s fingers moved fast as she texted her girlfriend back.

“Go talk sexy to her,” Clarke urged. The amount of phone sex those two long distance lovers had must have been staggering.

“Be right back,” Lexa chirped, already scampering for the bathroom.

Left alone, Clarke tried to look cool. A few people said they liked her shirt, but they never stayed to chat. And she supposed she couldn’t blame them. She probably looked more like a hot air balloon than the life of the party.

“Hey, Clarke.”

She whirled around when she heard a familiar voice. “Niylah. Hi.” She gave her former fling a hug, not surprised to see that she’d shown up wearing a white crop top and ripped jeans. Niylah always looked sexy, because Niylah was always on the prowl for sex.

“Wow,” Niylah said, eyes roaming all over her. “You look so . . . different.”

“I know.” She felt so different, too. In a way, she felt like . . . like she’d outgrown these college things. Being at this event tonight sort of felt like a different world. “How have you been?” she asked her friend. Well . . . friend with benefits. Former.

“Oh, pretty good,” Niylah said. “You know me. I’m just out there living my best life, like always. You?”

Clarke looked over Niylah’s shoulders just as Bellamy came in, looking very sexy in black jeans and a black t-shirt. “Yeah, I’m living my best life, too,” she said, smiling at him as he came towards her. “Hey.”

“Hey, Princess.” He kissed her cheek and told her, “I like the shirt.”

“Thanks. I had to order a men’s size.”

“No shame in that,” he said. He smiled at Niylah, said, “Hey,” then asked Clarke, “Who’s this?”

“Oh, Bellamy, this is Niylah. She’s . . . a friend,” Clarke replied vaguely.

“And former lover,” Niylah added on, “but I’m not holding out hope for that anymore. Once I heard you were back in town, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh.” Bellamy must not have known what to say to that, because he just laughed a little. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Niylah leaned in and whispered in Clarke’s ear, “He’s very hot. Good job,” and then she waved flirtatiously at Bellamy—because flirting was, like, her thing that she did with everyone—and slipped further into the crowd to do some mingling.

“So is Niylah bi,” Bellamy asked, “or . . .”

“No, she’s pansexual,” Clarke corrected.

Bellamy scratched his eyebrow, looking confused, and said, “You’re gonna have to educate me about that one when we get home.”

“No problem.” She really appreciated Bellamy’s willingness to learn about the LGBTQ community. Not that she was an expert or anything, but she’d tell him what she could.

Bellamy waved at Miller and remarked, “Hey, look at his shirt.”

“Yeah, lots of funny ones,” she said. Miller had gone the slightly political route by wearing a shirt with an altered Trump slogan on it: _Make America gay again_. “You should see Lexa’s.”

He scanned the crowd and asked, “Where is she?”

“Oh, Costia called, so she had to go . . .” Before Clarke could finish her sentence, someone else walked into the ballroom, two people whose attendance she hadn’t anticipated. “What the hell?”

“What?” Bellamy looked to the door and saw what she was seeing. Her mom and Kane were there. Over-dressed in formalwear.

“Why are they here?” she wondered. Kane she could see, because he was very open-minded when it came to orientation. But her mom . . .

“You weren’t expecting them?” Bellamy asked.

“Well, I mentioned that this was going on tonight, but I didn’t think they’d actually show up.” This was not the kind of crowd her mom was used to, so she said a quick silent prayer and hoped for the best. “Hey, Mom. You look . . . fancy.”

Her mother plucked at the silver gown she was wearing and said, “Well, this is typically the kind of attire one wears to a charity event. I had no idea everyone here would be so dressed down.”

“Yeah, this isn’t exactly the hospital charity gala crowd.” Clarke looked around, trying to locate Niylah, _really_ hoping that the girl she used to hook up with would give her and her mom a wide berth. Niylah was super nice, but she had no filter. She could be graphic and vulgar and not feel the slightest bit embarrassed about it.

“Well, we can’t stay long. We have dinner reservations,” her mom said, much to her relief. “But we thought we’d swing by and . . . be supportive.”

As weird as it was to see her there, Clarke had to admit . . . it was nice. She’d dropped hints to her mom every year that this fundraiser was going on, but this was the first year she’d shown up. “Well, thanks,” she said. “I appreciate that.” Maybe Kane was being a positive influence on her, or maybe this was all part of her mom’s attempt to repair their relationship after a somewhat rocky year. Either way, Clarke was grateful.

“Where do we donate?” Kane asked, already taking out his checkbook.

“Oh, over where Miller’s sitting,” Clarke told them. “Thanks for coming.”

They both gave her a hug, then wove their way through the crowd to get to the donation table. Clarke wasn’t sure how much money they were donating, but knowing Kane, it’d be substantial. Maybe one of the most substantial donations of the night. All the proceeds were set to go to a youth assistance shelter that specialized in LGBTQ teens and their issues, too, so once he found that out, he’d probably attach another zero to the dollar amount.

“Wow,” Clarke said. “That’s surprising.”

“Your mom doesn’t usually come to this stuff, huh?” Bellamy said.

“My mom doesn’t really talk about my bisexuality. Or think about it,” she said. “I mean, it’s better than it was at first, though. When I first came out to her and my dad, they both thought it was a phase.” It’d been pretty awful. Her mom had even suggested taking her to see a counselor, as if that would have changed anything.

Bellamy put his hands on her waist and smirked when he said, “Remember when you told me?”

“Of course.” How could she forget the first person she’d ever told?

****

_Clarke yawned, feeling like she needed to go back to bed. No time for that, though. They were back behind the curtain, about to take the floor for their state cheer performance._

_“Okay, fire it up, girls,” Raven pep talked them. “But keep those nerves in check. We’ve done this routine a million times. We’re gonna nail it. And Clarke . . . wake up!”_

_Clarke closed her mouth mid-yawn and claimed, “I’m awake.”_

_“Are you sure? Or did you not get enough sleep last night?” Raven said, glaring at her pointedly._

Oh, crap, she knows, _Clarke thought. She’d probably gotten up in the middle of the night and noticed her empty bed. Or she’d heard her sneaking back in at 5:30 that morning._

_“You’re lucky you’re my best friend,” Raven said to her quietly._

_Clarke smiled, happy to be off the hook. But if she’d been anyone else, there would have surely been hell to pay._

_“And up next,” the announcer bellowed, “the Arkadia Rockets!”_

_Feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline, Clarke ran out onto the mat with the other girls, a big, peppy smile in place, pom poms in her hand. They shouted things like, “Let’s go, Rockets!” and “Here we go, Arkadia!” and the crowd clapped for them. Most of the noise came from the football players, though, who were all sitting together. With their lower, booming voices, they drowned out everyone else. Clarke located Bellamy as she took her spot in the formation, right behind Raven, who was at the point of the pyramid. Bellamy cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled something like, “Let’s go, Clarke!” She smiled at him, so glad that he was there to watch this. It definitely took the sting out of not having her mom or dad there._

_When everything quieted down, their music started. Every move was drilled into their muscle memory at this point. Clarke had done this routine so many times that she didn’t even have to think about what she was doing. A kick here, a toe-touch there. She didn’t run into any of the other girls as they transitioned into a different formation, and she remembered to do a few exaggerated facial expression, because the judges loved stuff like that._

_And through it all, there sat Bellamy up in the stands, being_ her _cheerleader this time. She couldn’t only look at him, but whenever she did, he had this huge, proud smile on his face. He was proud of her._

_When they hit their end pose and yelled, “Rockets!” the crowd erupted. The guys all sprang to their feet and clapped and cheered for them, but the squad held it there in their pose, each of them totally winded and gasping for breath. They waited until Raven counted, “Five, six, seven, eight,” to do a synchronized clean before waving and running off, and just like that, months of hard work was over. It only amounted to a two and a half minute routine, but it felt like so much more than that._

_Afterwards, the whole squad scattered to find their family members or boyfriends, and Clarke found Bellamy. She needed food, so he offered to buy her something from the concession stand. He kept complimenting the performance and telling her how good she’d done, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized she could have done better._

_“I don’t know. My toe-touch was low,” she said. “And I’m sure we’re gonna get docked for not pointing our toes enough. And I think I was a little too far out in the formation at the end. And I might have gone on the wrong count on the ripple.”_

_“What’s a ripple?” he questioned._

_“A ripple. It’s like when one person does the move, and then the next person does the move, and it just goes on down the line.”_

_“Oh. Like the wave?”_

_“Sort of.” The wave was spontaneous and easy for everyone to do, though. None of the ripples in their routine were. “You really know nothing about cheerleading, do you?”_

_“Well, I’m learning a lot today,” he said. “Like I know that . . .” He wracked his brain, and apparently he couldn’t come up with anything, because he trailed off and shook his head. “No, I got nothing.”_

_“It’s okay, I’ll let you off the hook,” she said. “Even though I actually do know a lot about football now.”_

_“Oh, is that so?”_

_“Yes.”_

_He stepped in front of her and stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay, then what’s an audible?” he asked almost challengingly._

_“Not that stuff. I’m talking about, like, the positions.”._

_Grinning suggestively, he said, “Yeah, you do know a lot about positions.”_

_“Very funny.” A girl in a_ super _short purple cheerleading skirt strolled by, and . . . Clarke couldn’t help it. She took a look at her, her eyes lingering on her backside._

_“Pretty hot, huh?” Bellamy said._

_“Yeah,” she answered without really thinking about it. When she realized what she’d sort of just admitted, she tried to act like she hadn’t really been listening. “Wait, I mean . . . what’d you say?”_

_Bellamy gave her a serious look. “Come on, Clarke. It’s obvious.”_

_She decided to play dumb. “What do you mean?”_

_He motioned with his head towards that girl. Who had been joined by a flock of purple skirt girls now. God, was it a requirement that everyone on that squad be incredibly tone and hot?_

_“What, you think I was checking that girl out?” Clarke said. “No, that would be . . . and I’m not . . .” She couldn’t get a full sentence out, maybe because they were lies. Obvious lies, apparently. It wasn’t like Bellamy was going to go run off and tell everyone, so she lowered her voice and asked him, “How did you know?”_

_“I know you,” he said simply._

_“Well, my mom and dad have known me longer, and they have no clue,” she pointed out. “I don’t even think Raven knows.”_

_“You haven’t told her?”_

_“No.” She definitely planned to, someday, but she was still figuring it all out herself. She liked boys, and she’d only ever dated boys, but she felt attracted to girls, too. It was all pretty confusing, and the thought of everyone finding out was terrifying. “You’re the only person who knows, so . . . don’t say anything,” she told him, confident that she could trust him more than anyone else._

_“I won’t,” he promised. “But it’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I think it’s pretty hot.”_

_“Of course you do.” That was such a guy thing to get turned on by the thought of two girls having sex or even just kissing._

_Bellamy put his arm around her shoulder, walking with her towards the concession stand again. “You know, we could go after her and see if she wants to have a threesome,” he suggested._

_“Oh my god.” She laughed, relieved to be able to joke about it with someone who was so chill and unbothered. Bellamy didn’t seem to think it was a very big deal at all. So maybe it wasn’t._

****

Bellamy squeezed Clarke’s hand, smiling fondly. “That was a good day.”

“That _was_ a good day,” she agreed. “Too bad we got third.”

“Hey, you guys did great,” he reminded her. “And besides . . .”

“We did better than the year before. I know.” She’d ridden home from state cheer with him that night, and she’d been so bummed that they hadn’t at least cracked the top two. But he’d managed to cheer her up a lot.

“Why didn’t you stick with cheerleading?” he asked her suddenly. “You were good at it.”

True. She’d never been as good as Raven, but she’d been one of the better ones on the squad. “Bellamy, after you left . . .” She paused, not really sure how to explain why she hadn’t stuck with it. But it’d been the right decision. For sure. “I guess I just wasn’t as cheerful anymore,” she finished. Before he could ask her about it some more, she said, “Come on, let’s sit down,” and led him to an empty table, bypassing her mom and Kane on their way out.

Bless his heart, Bellamy noticed the napkins as they sat down and said, “These are cool.”

“I folded them,” she said.

“A woman of many talents.” He kissed her cheek again, then leaned back in his chair and put his arm around her. “So who’s who here?” he asked.

“Um . . . that’s Ruby,” she said, pointing out a petite, curvy girl with red hair to match her name. “She’s dumb as a fence post, but pretty nice. And beside her, that’s Ramon. Wannabe porn star. I think Miller’s hooked up with him a few times.”

“You know, he’s still with Bryan right now,” Bellamy informed her.

“Maybe they’ll last.” Miller usually went through boyfriends pretty fast, so for him to still be dating the guy he’d brought to New Year’s was a pretty big deal. “Hmm, who else?” Unfortunately, her eyes settled on Anya, who was pushing her way through the crowd and heading in their direction. “Oh, great,” she muttered. “See the blonde chick coming this way?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Anya. She’s a pain.” No other explanation required.

Anya stepped up to their table, a drink in her hand and a scowl on her face. “So, Clarke, is this your boyfriend?” she asked coldly.

“Yep.” Her hot, sexy, totally supportive boyfriend.

Anya looked at him as if he were an insect and simply said, “Hmm,” before turning and walking away.

Bellamy, clearly not used to receiving that reaction from a woman, looked flabbergasted. “What the hell?”

“See, I told you, she’s awful,” Clarke said. “Pretty on the outside, not the inside. Oh, and she _claims_ to be asexual,” she went on. “Which is fine. LGBTQ totally covers asexual people.”

“It does?”

“It’s a long acronym, Bellamy. LGBTQ’s just an abbreviation,” she explained. “Anyway, it’s all a façade. She just wants to be in charge of something, so she pretends. But we’ve all seen her making out with guys on this campus.”

“Ooh,” Bellamy said. “Scandalous.”

“I know.” It wasn’t scandalous enough to warrant an entire conversation, though, especially not when her stomach was calling on her to eat, so she said, “Oh, I’m hungry. I need to go get some food. You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m alright,” he said. “I’m gonna go see Miller, maybe make a donation.” He stood up and reached into his pockets, but he only pulled out two crumpled dollar bills.

“Every little bit helps,” she said, pushing herself to her feet with a great deal of effort. She headed in the direction of the food table, which she’d sampled earlier while taking a five minute break from her napkin folding duties, and Bellamy headed to the other side of the ballroom to sidle up to Miller’s table. As Clarke approached the food, she also approached Anya, who was talking to someone else in the group, a girl who had only come to a few meetings and who Clarke barely recognized. The girl wasn’t saying much, though, because Anya was doing all the talking. And it didn’t take Clarke long to realize Anya was actually _trash_ -talking. Trash-talking her.

“I’m just saying, it sends the wrong message for our group. Don’t you think?” She wasn’t even trying to be quiet or discreet; she was talking at full volume, well aware that anyone could hear her. “A pregnant girl roaming around _our_ fundraiser? Clearly she’s picked her team, and it’s the straight one. The whole bisexual thing was just a stepping stone for her to make her choice. I mean, she’s not _really_ bisexual if she’s with a guy now.”

_Oh my god_ , Clarke thought in astonishment, floored by the utter _ignorance_ of what she was hearing. Not only did it go against the spirit of the fundraiser they were throwing, but it was so fucking insulting and uninformed. She decided to alert the other girl to her presence with a stern, “Anya.” She wasn’t going to just stand there and take this. Maybe pre-pregnant Clarke would have just walked away from the situation, but pregnant Clarke had a _really_ low tolerance for bullshit. “You don’t know what the _hell_ you’re talking about, so shut up,” she growled. She didn’t bother being quiet, either, so she garnered a few curious glances from other people standing around.

“Excuse me?” Anya said, trying to sound all offended.

“It wasn’t a stepping stone, and I didn’t pick a team. That’s not how it works. I’m with Bellamy because I love him, and that doesn’t make me any less of a bisexual than I was when I was with women. I’m still me.” Clarke narrowed her eyes at her, shaking her head angrily. “You wanna be the leader of a club that shows empathy for LGBTQ people? Try showing some,” she suggested, stomping off in the opposite direction. She found Bellamy at the donation table, talking to Miller as he forked over his two dollars. “Let’s go,” she said, grabbing his arm. He didn’t ask questions, just went with her.

By the time they got home, she’d done a sufficient amount of ranting and raving in the car. She’d also called Lexa, which sadly meant interrupting her phone sex with Costia, but she needed to know what was going on.

“Ugh, she’s so frustrating!” Clarke yelled as she threw open the front door. “I mean, everything she was saying was such a negative stereotype, and the last place I should have to hear that is at a fundraising event _for_ LGBTQ people. I mean, the B’s in there for a reason. I’m so pissed off.”

“Me, too,” Bellamy said, shutting the door. “I’m glad you let her have it.”

“I probably should’ve said more, but I just wanted to get the hell out of there.” She stomped her foot, wishing she could, like, punch something. “Ugh!”

“Hey, it’s over now,” Bellamy said, coming up behind her. “We’re home. You don’t ever have to see her again if you don’t want to.” He put his hands on her shoulders and started massaging them gently, as if to calm her down.

“You’re right,” she said, sensing a silver lining. Tonight could be her exit from a club that hadn’t been fun for years now. She didn’t have to go back or put up with any gossip like that anymore. “Okay,” she said, spinning around. “Take your pants off.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows arched in confusion. “What?”

“I’m gonna suck your cock,” she decided, reaching down to unbutton his jeans for him. “And I’m gonna be bisexual while I’m doing it.”

Bellamy definitely looked a little surprised, but that didn’t stop him from agreeing to it. “Um . . . okay.” He unzipped his pants and lowered them down, along with his boxer briefs, which, although attractive, were really just in the way.

“Thank you,” she said, carefully sitting down right there on the floor. Yep, she was going to give a blowjob to her boyfriend, right then and there. But it didn’t mean she’d picked a team at all; she’d picked a person.


	48. Chapter 48

_Chapter 48_

“So where are we going?” Bellamy asked Lexa as he followed her down the sidewalk. His heart was set on Dick’s Sporting Goods, but his wallet was lobbying for the thrift store.

Lexa slowed her pace to fall in step with him, then pointed up ahead.

“The jewelry store?” he said. Hell, he’d just been there the other day.

“Yeah. I’m gonna get a ring for Costia,” she declared.

“An engagement ring?” Was he not the only one who’d started thinking about marriage?

“No, a promise ring,” she corrected. “For now.”

Ah, the good old promise ring. One step down from the real deal, but pretty much a sign that things were headed in the direction of holy matrimony. “So why’d you ask me to come along?” he inquired.

“Because, Costia’s like a guy,” she explained.

“Oh, really?” Did that mean she was the one who was . . . on top a lot? Lexa didn’t seem like the type to relinquish the control.

“Well, when it comes to rings, at least,” Lexa added. “She doesn’t know what she likes or what looks good. So I need a guy’s perspective. I figure, if you like it, she’ll like it. Plus, all my other friends were busy today, so you’re kinda my only choice.”

“Oh, thanks.” Hell, he didn’t mind being Lexa’s last resort, though. Clarke was on this whole cleaning kick at home, so he needed to get out of there for a while. And Lexa was cool. He liked hanging out with her. It wasn’t very often he’d had girls in his life who were just friends.

“So how’s Clarke?” Lexa asked as they crossed the street. “Everyone’s still talking about how she laid into Anya the other night.”

“She’s fine,” he said. “She was pissed, but it passed.” If nothing else, it had prompted them to have a pretty good conversation about how they’d accept Avery no matter what, how they’d never make her feel bad for just being who she was.

“Well, everyone’s still pissed at Anya,” Lexa informed him. “Some people are even talking about forcing her to step down as the leader.”

“Ah, some rebellion. I like it,” he said. “Why don’t you take over?”

“Me?” She laughed and shook her head. “No, I’m not the right person for it. I mean, I can lead people, but I’m gonna graduate this year. And once I do, I wanna leave Arkadia for a while, go out and explore the world.”

“With Costia?” he guessed.

She smiled. “Yeah. We wanna go to Europe someday. You’ve been to Europe, right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Well, Italy, mostly.”

She sighed wistfully. “I’d love to go to Italy.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. Just make sure you brush up on your fashion knowledge,” he advised.

“You mean, like, Prada? Versace? All those expensive designers I’ll never be able to afford to wear?”

“Pretty much. And don’t assume you know more about food than they do. You might think you do, but you don’t.” He’d gotten into a heated argument once with a waiter about whether or not pineapple had any place atop a pizza. “Oh, and they talk with their hands a lot, so you might start talking with your hands, too. Which is fine. Just don’t make any gestures you’ll regret.”

“Speaking from experience?” she asked.

“Yeah, I got my ass kicked by this guy named Matteo,” he admitted. “Don’t tell Clarke. She thinks I’m badass.”

Lexa laughed.

When they walked into the jewelry store, Bellamy immediately caught sight of the ring he’d ordered in the far back display case. It wasn’t the most expensive one there, nor was it the biggest, but it’d look so perfect on Clarke’s finger. It belonged there.

“You have any idea what you’re looking for?” he asked Lexa.

“What do you mean?” she said. “A ring. That’s it.”

“But what cut? Round, princess, pear?”

“What now?”

“Well, a round cut’s round. Obviously,” he said. “And a princess cut’s more of a square.”

She looked at him suspiciously, with narrowed eyes. “How do you know so much about rings?”

“Everybody knows about rings,” he claimed.

“No, everybody doesn’t.”

He was saying too much, giving himself away, wasn’t he? He’d decided to just shut up and act clueless when the same sales associate who had helped him last week came up to him with a big smile on her face. “Mr. Blake, good to see you again,” she said. “Did you come to make another payment on that diamond?”

Lexa’s eyebrows shot upward, and Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief that he was just here with her and not Clarke. “Uh, not today,” he said. “Probably by the end of the week.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. She seemed to realize that Lexa could have very well been the recipient of that ring, because she asked, “Is this the lucky girl?”

Lexa laughed emphatically at that. “No.”

“Just a friend,” Bellamy said. “But yeah, I’ll be back Friday.”

“See you then,” the saleswoman said, that big smile still in place as she moved past him to help another customer.

“What was she talking about, Bellamy?” Lexa didn’t hesitate to ask.

“Nothing,” he lied. Picking up silver bracelet, he jingled it in front of her face in an attempt to distract her. “Hey, look. Pretty.”

She swiped that bracelet from him and slid it onto her wrist. “You’re paying off a ring,” she said. “For Clarke.” A slow smile spread across her face, and then she exclaimed, “You’re gonna propose to her!”

“Yeah, go ahead and speak from the diaphragm if you wanna be a little louder,” he suggested sarcastically.

“Sorry, I’m just . . . happy for you guys,” she said. “I mean, it’s not surprising, but it’s exciting.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please?” he begged. “Only my mom and my sister know.” He hadn’t intended to let anyone else in on it.

“Oh, your secret’s safe with me,” she promised, sliding the silver bracelet off her wrist. “God, Clarke’s gonna get married. And have a baby. At this point, all she needs is a white picket fence and she’s living the American dream.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke sorted through the overflowing laundry basket of clothes meticulously, dropping only the darkest of darks into the machine. All of these baby clothes were brand new. The colors of one could bleed into another so easily. She’d have to do at least three loads.

“What’re you doing?”

She didn’t even have to look up when Raven came to stand in the doorway, but if she would have, she would have glimpsed her best friend looking long, lean, and beautiful in her bikini. “Laundry,” she replied simply.

“Yes, I see that. But no one’s actually worn those clothes yet,” Raven pointed out.

“That’s why I have to wash them,” she said. “New clothes have all sorts of fabric irritants. I can’t dress Avery in things that could irritate her skin.” She poured some detergent into the machine, closed the lid, and twisted the nob to start the cycle.

“Well, you should come outside,” Raven suggested. “It’s nice out. Perfect weather for a beach day.”

“Raven.” She was right. It was a beautiful day. Sun was shining, there was a slight breeze to keep things from getting too hot, and it definitely felt like spring. But that didn’t mean they could all enjoy it in the same way. “How am I supposed to take part in beach day? I can’t wear a swimsuit, I can’t swim, and you know what? I don’t even walk anymore; I waddle,” she ranted.

“You don’t need a swimsuit. You can lay out on the beach with me and Harper,” Raven said. “And who cares if you waddle? That’s what penguins do.”

Clarke gave her an incredulous look. “Well, I’m tired of being a penguin!”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Raven put her arm around her shoulder and led her out of the laundry room. “Penguins are cute. You’re cute right now, Clarke. Your cheeks are all chubby and . . .” She trailed off when Clarke shot her a warning glare. “I’m not helping, am I?”

“No.” She knew she was blimpish, didn’t need a reminder.

“Sorry,” Raven apologized.

Before Clarke could complain any more, the front door opened, and Bellamy came in hauling . . . a surfboard? He literally had a surfboard with him. And it had a picture of Pamela Anderson from her _Baywatch_ days on it. “Hey,” he said. “I’m gonna try surfing.” And just like that, he cut through the living room, carrying that board under his arm, apparently eager to get outside.

“Now that’s something I wanna see,” Raven said, wriggling her eyebrows. “Come on.” She took Clarke’s hand and practically pulled her out onto the back porch. Clarke dug her heels in, though, reluctant to go any further. Harper was out there looking like a supermodel, and Monty was lathering her shoulders up with sunscreen. Miller was shirtless and all in shape, too, throwing a football around with Murphy, who couldn’t seem to catch it to save his life.

“Come _on_ ,” Raven said again, finally pulling hard enough to get her to come down off the porch and set foot in the sand.

“Bellamy!” she called out to her boyfriend as he unabashedly stripped down to his underwear. “Where did you get that?”

“At the thrift store,” he yelled back. “Fifty bucks.”

At least he’d gotten a bargain then. But still . . . “Have you ever surfed before?”

“Yeah, when I was younger,” he said. “But then I stopped when I started getting good at football.”

Leave it to Bellamy to see something and then just get it in his head to do something so athletic so spontaneously. “Don’t get hurt,” she told him.

“I won’t.” He ran out into the water with his board, got deep enough to fling himself up onto it, and started paddling out deeper.

“See, you gotta be out here,” Raven said. “Gotta keep an eye on him.”

Well . . . she definitely wouldn’t _mind_ seeing Bellamy give surfing a go. He always looked so hot when he did sporty things.

“There she is,” Murphy said, a lyrical tone to his voice. He’d given up football and approached them now with his camera poised to capture everything. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Clarke smoothed her hair back from her face and said, “Well, thank you, Murphy.” Any attempts to improve her self-esteem right now were appreciated.

“Nobody rocks a bikini better than my girlfriend,” Murphy said, panning the camera up and down Raven’s body. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, hey, Clarke.”

She smiled, embarrassed that she’d assumed he was talking to her. “Hey,” she said.

“How’s it going?”

“Well, I have a baby the size of a pineapple in my uterus. How do you think it’s going?” she snapped back.

“Okay.” Murphy put the camera down. “Not the right day for an interview then.”

She didn’t mean to be such a grump. It was just really hard to act as young and free-spirited as her friends were acting. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just . . . I’ve been pregnant for so long at this point. It’s really exhausting.”

“I’m sure,” Murphy said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just film Bellamy surfing. My female subscribers will love that shit.” He raised his camera again, this time capturing the exact moment where Bellamy tried to stand up on his board, lost his balance, and fell right off before he’d even had a chance to ride a single wave. Murphy cringed and remarked, “He’s not very good.”

No, he really wasn’t. But that was okay. He made up for it by being good at other things.

****

_“Oh, Bellamy,” Clarke gasped, pinned beneath her boyfriend’s heavy, sweaty body as he pounded his hips into her. “You’re so good.”_

_Her words seemed to spur him on as a low growl escaped his throat. He pressed his face against the side of her neck, his breath hot on her skin, and somehow thrust into her even more forcefully than he already had been. Surely they were making his truck move at this point. They had to be, right?_

_Since they were out in the middle of nowhere, she didn’t bother being quiet. She let herself make all the noises she wanted to, expressing her pleasure in moans as he fucked her. Despite the condom, he seemed to be savoring the sensation just like she was. He’d gone non-vocal a couple minutes ago. When Bellamy stopped talking altogether during sex, that was how she knew he was_ really _into it._

_The mix of their heavy breathing had fogged up the window a long time ago. Or at least it seemed like a long time. Clarke wasn’t really sure how long they’d been going at it, but she had no intention of stopping. She squeezed her innermost muscles, trying to pull him deeper. He felt so good there. Bellamy muttered, “Fuck,” against her neck, the first word he’d said since he’d slid inside her._

_His hips slammed against her, eliciting a high-pitched noise from her with every thrust. She coiled her legs around his hips, digging her heels into his ass, and let out an impassioned cry as her orgasm hit. It was the toe-curling, heart-racing kind that sent tingles out through every inch of her body. Even though he was on top of her, still moving, she felt like she was floating. Or flying. Or something. He came almost at the exact same time, which made her feel like her orgasm was lasting even longer. She loved it when they managed to cum together. It felt so incredibly intimate._

_After they were done, the truck was quiet and still. He lay on top of her, barely supporting his own weight, completely drenched in sweat. Her body felt slick, too. It was a muggy, humid night, and they’d turned the car off to have their fun, so it wasn’t like they had the air conditioning to cool them down._

_Slowly, Bellamy lifted his head, still breathing heavily as he gazed down at her. “What time is it?” he asked her._

_“Doesn’t matter,” she replied._

_“No, it does,” he insisted. “Gotta get you home before curfew.”_

_She groaned, wishing she didn’t have a curfew, especially such a ridiculously early one. But what could they do? This was part of the compromise they’d made. At least they got to be together. And have nights like this._

_They got dressed, wiped off the windows, and reluctantly headed home. If she could have, Clarke would have stayed out with him all night. In fact, they could have just slept there in the backseat of his truck. It would’ve been comfortable enough for her._

_Clarke stared forlornly at the 9:50 showing on Bellamy’s truck as he pulled into the driveway. It was a couple minutes behind, so it was probably more like 9:55. She really had to be getting inside. But she really didn’t want to._

_“Tell your mom I said hi,” he joked._

_She laughed. “Yeah, right.” Just because her mom was on civil terms with Bellamy, it didn’t mean they were suddenly friendly._

_As she started to open the door, he grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Hey,” he said, just staring at her for a few seconds with a soft smile on his face. Then he moved in close and kissed her, a gentle, almost chaste kiss that stood out in stark contrast to how hot and heavy they’d gotten tonight. “Goodnight,” he whispered._

_“Goodnight,” she echoed, finding it hard to look away from him. So hard, in fact, that she didn’t. She kissed him again, and he kissed her back, and they_ just _scratched the surface of making out before she forced herself out of that truck so she could walk in the front door on time._

_Bellamy’s truck rumbled down the street, in desperate need of a better muffler, as she walked into the living room. Her parents were both home, both still awake. Her mom sat in the chair, and her dad was lying on the couch, both of them watching TV._

_“Hi, honey,” her mom said. “Right on time.”_

_“Of course.” It wasn’t like she had much choice. One wrong move, and they were right back in forbidden romance territory. Which just wasn’t as sexy as it sounded._

_“How was the movie?” her dad asked._

_She smiled and said, “It was great,” hoping he didn’t ask her for any plot details or anything. Because she and Bellamy had gone in the_ opposite _direction of the movie theater. “See you guys in the morning,” she said, retreating up the stairs before they could ask her anything else about it. There were some things they were better off just not knowing she’d done, and sex in Bellamy’s truck was one of them._

****

Clarke wasn’t sure why Murphy followed her back inside until he headed into the kitchen, opened up the refrigerator, and pulled out one of Bellamy’s beers. Then it all made sense.

“Ah, drinking,” she said. “Yet another thing I can’t do.” She sighed, feeling like she was a dark cloud hanging over an otherwise sunny beach day, and said, “You know, you can go back out there if you want, Murphy. I just can’t watch Bellamy wipe out again. It’s too painful.”

“I thought he was supposed to be a good athlete,” Murphy said.

“He is. On land.” Now that he had a surfboard, though, maybe he’d have a new hobby. “Anyway, really, I’m fine here,” she insisted. “I don’t mind being alone.” By her estimation, she had about fifteen more minutes until the load of dark darks was done, and then she’d have to toss all the lighter darks in.

“Nah, I’m fair-skinned,” Murphy said. “I’ll burn to a crisp. I’m better off in here.”

She wasn’t really sure how to entertain him when her main priority at the moment was laundry, so she offered, “Then . . . you wanna see the nursery?”

“As long as I can film it,” he answered quickly.

She rolled her eyes, so used to his camera at this point that she wasn’t even really all that annoyed by it anymore. “Come on,” she said, motioning him to follow her up the stairs. It took her a little while to get to the top. She had to take it one stair at a time. Murphy was already filming by the time she opened the door to the small, girly space.

“Wow,” Murphy said. “So Bellamy did all of this, huh?”

“Well, he had some help from a guy at work,” she said, “but yeah. He did it.” Every morning, she just walked in there and looked around, feeling in awe of everything he’d made.

“The man, the myth, the legend . . . he strikes again,” Murphy joked. “Is there anything that guy can’t do?”

“Surfing, apparently.”

Murphy panned his camera all around the room, collecting more footage. Clarke wondered what he would use and what would end up on the cutting room floor, so to speak. He zoomed in on the letters of Avery’s name up on the wall, then turned around and walked over to the bookshelf to focus in on the titles there. And the shelves full of toys. There weren’t many clothes hanging in the closet, though, since she was washing them.

“This is nice,” Murphy remarked. “Very organized. I wonder how long it’ll stay that way.”

Clarke wasn’t really listening to him. Her mind wandered as she stood next to the crib, gripping the side of it with both hands. She looked down into it at the pillows that said _Mommy_ and _Daddy_. She’d have to take those out once Avery was born. Pillows could be dangerous for a little baby. She’d learned that in her class.

“Hey, you okay?”

She looked up at Murphy, or more precisely, at Murphy’s camera. “What?” she asked.

“Are you crying?”

Was she? She wiped tears from beneath her eyes, unaware that they’d even been falling. But of course they had. Of course. “Pregnancy’s an emotional thing, Murphy. I can cry at the drop of a hat these days,” she said. “I was just thinking about how there’s gonna be a baby in here soon, instead of just this empty space.”

“Yeah, that’s crazy,” Murphy said. He hesitated a moment, but he never put his camera down before asking, “Can I ask you something?”

“That’s the whole point of your documentary, isn’t it?”

Again, he fell silent for a moment. But when he asked his question, it was . . . kind of a big one. “Are you scared?”

_Oh, yeah_ , she thought. _Terrified._

“I mean, life threw you this curve ball, and you didn’t really have any choice but to accept it,” he went on. “I mean . . . you had a _choice_ , but . . . you know what I mean.”

“Murphy . . .” She really didn’t want to talk about that.

“I just wonder if the thought of being a mom scares you at all,” he said simply, as though it were a simple question.

“Well, of course it does,” she said. “I’m scared I’ll feed her something she’s allergic to or do something wrong with her car seat, or look away right when somebody comes up to snatch her up.” There were so many things to be scared of, things she’d never feared before but would now worry about incessantly.

“I wonder if Bellamy’s scared,” Murphy pondered.

“Probably not.” If he was, he hadn’t let on. The closest he’d come to getting panicked about anything was making sure he’d gotten that hospital bag packed up the night after she’d had her Braxton Hicks incident.

“Yeah, I haven’t known him as long as you have,” Murphy said, “but . . . he seems like he’s destined to be a really good father.”

Tears sprang to her eyes again, so she blinked to hold them back. “Yeah,” she said, looking away from the camera. “He is.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy caught up to his boss just as he was about to get in his car and drive off. “Hey, sir, can I talk to you?” he said.

Emerson dumped several rolls of floor plans into the passenger’s seat and sighed. “Make it quick. Wife’s got dinner waiting for me.”

“Right.” Clarke was probably eating her dinner without him, but he couldn’t blame her for that. “I was just wondering if . . .” He tried to just launch in, _tried_ to make it quick, but it wasn’t exactly a quick conversation they needed to have. “I don’t even know if I should be saying anything,” he mumbled, really hoping he didn’t get in trouble for this. He’d never had any qualms about getting in trouble in high school, but his adult life was different. “Look, I’m not trying to sound greedy,” he said, “but . . .”

“Let me guess: You want a raise,” Emerson cut in.

Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief, glad that his boss had vocalized it so he didn’t have to. “Yeah.”

“You and everybody else who works for this company,” Emerson grumbled, “myself included.”

Bellamy just nodded, waiting for him to say more. But when he didn’t . . . it started to feel awkward. “Well, is there any possibility of it?” he asked. “Because I’ve been working here for a while now, and I think I’ve done a pretty good job.” He noticed Emerson didn’t agree or nod his head or anything, so that was kind of discouraging. “And also because I have a baby on the way, and an engagement ring to pay off,” he added. “And a future mother-in-law I’m constantly trying to impress.”

Emerson wasn’t a warm and fuzzy type of guy, so it wasn’t exactly surprising when he didn’t look sympathetic in the slightest. “Look, Bellamy, some of these guys have been working here a lot longer than you have.”

“I know. I know that.” He wasn’t trying to take away Roan’s raise or anything like that. Roan needed the money just like he did. But Roan was also already making more. “I’d do whatever it takes,” he said. “I can get some more training or work longer hours or . . .”

“ _Longer_ hours?” Emerson echoed. “When you have a newborn baby?”

Bellamy knew he couldn’t commit to that. Especially in those first few weeks, Clarke was going to need his help. “Well, I can try,” he amended.

Emerson shook his head. “That’s not how it works.”

Bellamy let out a heavy, disappointed exhale, figuring he should just cut his losses on this conversation. It hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped at all. “Alright,” he said. “Okay. I just wanted to explain my situation. I’m not trying to guilt-trip you or anything.”

“No,” Emerson said, “I think that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. Although . . . maybe he was. Just a little bit. “But if there ever is a promotion or a bonus on the table . . . can you at least consider me for it?”

Emerson only response was, “We’ll talk about this next week, Blake. I need to go.” And with that, he got into his car and shut the door, effectively putting an end to any further discussion.

_Dammit_ , Bellamy thought, taking a few steps backward. He waved halfheartedly to Emerson, who ignored him as he drove out of the parking lot. At least he’d given Emerson something to think about over the weekend. Come Monday, maybe he’d be more . . . receptive.

Before he could head home, he had to stop at the jewelry store before it closed. Once there, he nearly emptied his wallet of cash and slid it across the counter. “This is all I’ve got this week,” he said. “I was stupid and spent fifty bucks on a surfboard.” It wasn’t like he could take that back, either. The thrift store didn’t offer returns.

“Well, you’re making progress,” the sales associate said, counting through his money.

He watched her sift through the twenties first, then the tens, then the fives, and he wondered why engagement rings were so expensive anyway. The cheaper ones looked like crap, so if any guy wanted to get their girl a nice one, they had to be willing to shell out some bucks.

“I’m just curious,” he said, “at this rate, when am I gonna have this paid off?”

“Oh, probably about three more months,” the saleswoman replied.

“Three months?” he shrieked. “How is that possible?”

“Well, the engraving alone adds on over a hundred dollars,” she said. “And you did seem pretty dead-set on having that.”

He sighed. Yeah, he had been. The engraving, the fact that he’d gone for the traditional diamond instead of a different gem like a sapphire or an emerald, _and_ his insistence on a one karat diamond instead of a 0.9 karat diamond . . . it had all added up. Maybe it was this woman’s fault. What was her name again? Sue? Yeah, Sue had talked him into the higher-priced stuff. She was just too good at her job.

“Three months won’t cut it,” he said. “I have to have it sooner. Isn’t there any discount you could give me?”

“Not unless you opt for a cheaper ring,” she said, “but yours has already been produced. The engraving makes it custom. I can’t sell it to anyone else.”

So what she was saying was that he was locked into paying for that one then, wasn’t she? In a way, he didn’t mind, because it really was the perfect ring for Clarke. The moment he’d seen it, he’d been able to imagine it on her finger. He just wished . . . he wished he made more money so he could buy her all the fancy stuff she’d had growing up. Clarke wasn’t materialistic by any means, but sometimes he still worried he’d let her down. “I’ll just get this one paid for,” he decided, fumbling around in his pockets to see if he had any loose change. He found two nickels and handed them over. Ten cents less to pay next time.

When he left the store, he was feeling pretty down on himself. That ring was only about halfway paid off at this point, and there was no way he could pay the rest on his own before the baby was born. So although he hated having to do it, he took out his phone, swallowed his pride, and called the one person he knew he could rely on to help him out with this no matter what.

“Mom, it’s me,” he said after she answered cheerfully. “I need a favor.”


	49. Chapter 49

_Chapter 49_

Graduation felt so close yet so far away. Clarke wasn’t sure which would come first, the diploma or her baby. But waiting for both was starting to become painstaking.

Harper seemed to be handling the wait better. She was busy with more rehearsals and had more performances coming up next month, so she seemed to feel like time was almost passing by _too_ fast. On the way to their classes, she talked Clarke’s ear off about how worried she was the spring performance wouldn’t come together in time and how she wished they just had a few extra weeks to practice.

When they got to the fountain outside the student union, Harper came to a halt and said, “Hey, let’s stop. Make a wish.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out two quarters, then squeezed her eyes shut and whispered something like a prayer before tossing her quarter into the water. Clarke flicked hers in with less enthusiasm, only because she’d never really been one to believe in the power of a wishing well.

“What’d you wish for?” she asked her friend.

“For the spring show to go off without a hitch,” Harper replied unsurprisingly. “You?”

Clarke answered with a sigh. “Oh, lots of things.”

Harper cringed, looking behind Clarke as she said, “And I’m guessing Finn’s not one of them.”

“Oh, definitely not.”

“Well, too bad. He’s heading this way.”

“What? No!” Clarke whined. “Hide me.”

“I can’t. You’re huge,” Harper said.

Whimpering, Clarke braced herself for impact. “Clarke!” she heard her ex call as he came nearer.

“Just tell him we have to be on our way,” Harper suggested.

“Okay.” She turned around right as he got close. “Finn. What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just killing some time with some friends,” he said. “I’m glad I ran into you, actually, ‘cause . . .”

“Oh, you know what? We really can’t stay and chat,” she cut in quickly. “We’re going to, um . . .” She looked to Harper for help with an excuse.

“Dance class,” Harper filled in.

“Right,” Clarke agreed stupidly before realizing how absurd of a lie that was. “No, wrong. I can’t dance right now. It’s . . . cooking class.”

“Right,” Harper said. “We’re making . . . quesadillas.”

Clarke blurted, “Frittatas,” at the exact same time, so their lies definitely weren’t perfectly aligned yet. She doubted Finn though much of it, though, so she tried to just keep the conversation rolling. Rolling towards an end. “So, yeah, we really have to be on our way.”

“Oh, this will only take a minute,” Finn said, whipping out his phone. “I just wanted to show you something I saw online.”

Clarke exhaled impatiently and shot Harper an annoyed look as Finn searched . . . something. Probably something completely pointless.

“Here,” he said, finally showing her his screen. It was a picture of a stuffed unicorn, sold pretty cheaply on Amazon. “Little girls like unicorns, right?” he said. “I thought Avery might like something like that.”

He was right. She might. But she also might like dolls or aliens. She and Bellamy had purchased a wide variety of stuff to match whatever preferences she would develop. “She’s already got plenty of toys,” she said, effectively shooting him down. “She doesn’t need anymore.”

Finn’s smile faded slowly, and he looked . . . discouraged. Maybe even a little hurt. “Oh.”

“Let’s go, Harper,” she said, linking her arm with her friend’s so they could get out of there and continue on their way to class.

“That was awkward,” Harper remarked.

Yeah, it sure as hell had been. If she could have gone back and made another wish, she would have wished for Finn to just mind his own business. His daughter wasn’t his concern anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Having gotten to work half an hour early, Bellamy found himself getting hungry for lunch early, too. The day felt like it was dragging, but he was going to power through. Had to. The only way he stood a chance of getting Emerson to change his mind about giving him a raise was to impress the hell out of him. And the only way he was going to be able to pay his mom back soon was to get that raise.

He’d been assigned to work at headquarters that day, on smaller projects that didn’t require any on site construction. Roan was there, too, as were some of the other guys. They were nice enough guys, but Roan was the only one he’d really befriended since he started working for the company. The dynamics weren’t what he was used to back in high school on the football team. These guys didn’t revere him. They were all in the same boat, working a job that didn’t pay as much as it should have. The manual labor wasn’t easy, and they worked hard.

Shortly before lunch, Emerson called Bellamy into his office. _This is it_ , Bellamy thought. Somehow, what he’d said last Friday had worked. Emerson had reconsidered. Maybe it was just going to be a small raise, but it’d be a raise nonetheless.

“You wanted to see me?” he said, closing the door.

“Yes. Go ahead. Sit down,” Emerson told him.

He sat down at his boss’s desk and started with an apology. “Hey, I’m really sorry for just springing that raise stuff on you last week. I should’ve arranged a time to meet with you. Now’s a better time to talk about it.”

Emerson seemed . . . not as present as he usually was. He wasn’t even looking Bellamy in the eye. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t as loud as it usually was, and he sounded regretful. “I’m not sure there was ever gonna be a good time.”

Bellamy waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. And that made him start to feel uneasy. “What do you mean?” This didn’t feel like happy conversation so far. And it should have.

Emerson sighed heavily, and that one sigh may as well have said it all. But he said it himself anyway. “Bellamy, there’s no easy way for me to go about this. The company’s decided to make cuts, and you’re one of them.”

_Cuts?_ Bellamy’s mind absorbed that word. _Cuts?_

“I’m sorry,” Emerson apologized, “but I have to let you go.”

At first, Bellamy just stared at him in disbelief. This . . . definitely wasn’t what he’d been expecting. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite of a raise. It was the ultimate demotion. “You’re firing me?” he finally spat out in disbelief.

“I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to,” Emerson assured him. “But I have superiors, people I have to report to. They told me I had to lose five people from my crew.”

“But you were the one who chose the five,” Bellamy said. Emerson could try to lay the blame on _his_ superiors all he wanted to, but ultimately, it’d been his decision.

“I tried to be fair,” Emerson said. “You just haven’t worked for me as long as the other guys.”

“Yeah, but . . .” There were other things to take into account when it came to fairness. “Come on, sir, you know what I’ve got goin’ on,” he said pleadingly. “I’m gonna be a dad. I’m supposed to provide for my family.” There was a guy named Chuck who’d worked there even longer than Roan, but he was a lazy stoner who showed up late most of the time. Would he still get to keep his job? Any money he earned was just going to drugs. That sure as hell wasn’t _fair_.

“I understand your situation,” Emerson said, “but . . .”

“No, I need this job,” Bellamy cut back in. “Clarke’s not gonna be able to work after she has the baby. At least not for the first month. She’s gonna need me to . . .” His mouth felt dry, and he felt like he was trying to catch his breath as he thought about how much she’d be depending on him. Everything he’d learned in those baby classes said that his role was to be a supportive partner, but how was he gonna support her if he didn’t even . . . “Please, you gotta help me out here,” he openly begged. He wasn’t too proud to do it.

“I wish I could,” Emerson said. “I’m willing to be a reference.”

“A _reference_?” Bellamy laughed angrily at that. “What if I can’t find another job?”

“I’m sure you can.”

“But what if I can’t?” It wasn’t like Arkadia had limitless employment opportunities. “What if I can’t find another job, huh?” he demanded. “And then I’ve got this baby who’s depending on me and . . .” How was he supposed to afford diapers and clothes for when she got bigger, and what if she got sick and needed some medicine and he couldn’t afford to pay for it? “Please, isn’t there anything you can do?” he asked desperately.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy.”

God, it was just one apology after another, wasn’t it? Emerson just kept saying he was sorry. But sorry wasn’t gonna do him any good. Hell, a fucking reference wasn’t going to do him any good, either. He was gonna have to go home and tell Clarke he’d gotten fired, and it was gonna be one of the most humiliating things he’d ever done.

As much as he would have loved to storm out of that office, he didn’t want to lose the hours. “Can I at least finish out the day?” he asked.

Emerson nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

A couple extra bucks then. Enough to get some gas in his car on the way home. Great. Just great.

He felt like a failure.

When he walked out of Emerson’s office, all the other guys were still hard at work, but they all looked at him curiously. Had they known? Did they know now?

Roan approached him and quietly asked, “How’d that go?”

“It sucked.” No need to elaborate. “What about you?” Roan had been called in that morning, but he hadn’t shown any signs of being . . . let down.

His friend shook his head and said, “No.”

So Roan Azgeda, father of two and longtime employee at this company, still had a job. “That’s good,” Bellamy said. He didn’t wish this hardship on his friend.

“If you want, I could go try to lobby for you,” Roan offered, “get him to change his mind.”

“No,” Bellamy said. He didn’t want Roan doing or saying anything to jeopardize his own job. Besides, nothing would work. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m sure plenty of people are just itching to hire a college dropout.”

“Hey, at least you went to college,” Roan pointed out.

“Yeah, for football.” It wasn’t that impressive.

“Well, your name still means something in this town,” Roan said. “You’ll get hired.”

Because of his name? Because people knew him or remembered seeing him on the news or seeing him play in person? “I hope so,” he said. If name recognition got him a job rather than skill or qualifications, then so be it. He’d play any card he had. He really wasn’t sure it’d be enough, though. This was the real world, and the real world didn’t care if he could score a touchdown.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke was relieved when Bellamy finally walked in the door that night. She’d just finished making some spaghetti for dinner, and she’d made plenty, so now they could eat together. “Yay, you’re home,” she said, greeting him at the door with a hug. “Oh, I was beginning to wonder where you were. How was your day?”

He held onto her pretty tightly, almost as if he didn’t want to let her go, and grumbled, “Could’ve gone better.”

Even without her heightened sense of smell, Clarke would have been able to smell the alcohol on his breath. She pulled back a bit and asked, “Have you been drinking?”

Slowly, Bellamy’s hands slid off of her sides and hips, and he lowered his head and mumbled, “Yeah. I went to the bar after work.”

“Oh, with Roan?” she assumed.

He shook his head. “No.”

“So Miller then.”

Bellamy stepped out of his shoes and shrugged off his jacket. “No, I went by myself.”

She pictured him sitting at Eligius or some other bar by himself, just drinking alone, and that seemed . . . strange. “You went drinking by yourself?” she said. Wasn’t that what some people did when they were upset? She couldn’t just let it go, so she asked him, “What’s wrong? What happened today?”

Bellamy sighed heavily, tossing his coat onto the couch. Then he looked back at her, a serious expression on his face, and waited a few seconds before asking, “You love me, right?”

What kind of question was that? “Yes.” Of course she loved him.

He swallowed hard, looked down at his feet again, and spoke quietly, as if he were ashamed of what he was saying. “I got fired.”

Clarke squinted at him curiously. “What?”

“Emerson said he had to lose five people, and I’m one them,” he muttered, sounding . . . defeated. “I don’t have a job anymore.”

“Wait . . . I don’t understand,” she said, still trying to process the news. “Did you have any idea this was coming?”

“Nope. Hell, just the other day, I asked him for a raise.” Bellamy shook his head disappointedly. “I think he knew even then. Son of a bitch. He should’ve just told me.”

“Well, why’d he fire you?” Clarke had half a mind to find this Emerson guy herself and give him a piece of her mind. “That’s not fair.”

Bellamy shrugged dejectedly. “Maybe it is. I’m still one of the new guys. I still don’t know how to do all the work they can.”

“Yeah, but . . .” She thought about that nursey that he’d put together, right upstairs, and it was so nice and so impressive that she couldn’t imagine anyone firing Bellamy. “So that’s it then? That’s the final decision? Isn’t there something you can do to--”

“If there was anything I could do, don’t you think I would’ve done it already?” he cut her off harshly.

She felt her facial expression change, from one of determined anger into one of . . . sadness. He was getting angry with her now, too. She wasn’t making the situation any better. But that didn’t mean he had to yell at her.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I don’t mean to be like this. I’m just upset.”

“I know,” she said. “But it’s Emerson’s loss. You’ll find a new job, something better.”

“In Arkadia?” He didn’t seem to hopeful. “This is awful. Your mom’s gonna find out about this. She’ll probably say she saw it coming.”

“No, I won’t tell her,” she promised him.

“She’ll still find out.”

“Don’t even worry about her.” She closed the gap between them, put her hand on his arm, and rubbed it gently. “It’s gonna be okay, Bellamy,” she assured him. “You’re gonna find another job, and in the meantime, I’m still working.”

“No offense, Clarke, but . . . I don’t think we can support a baby on the money you make.”

She didn’t take any offense to that, because she knew he was right. She made enough to support herself, but not a family. “Once I graduate, then I can find something full-time,” she said, even though she knew that’d be easier said than done with the baby set to come right around graduation. “And if things get too tight, then maybe my parents could help us out.”

His response was quick and adamant. “No. No, I won’t take money from them. Don’t tell your dad, either, at least not until I have something else lined up.”

She wanted to tell him that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, that she could ask her parents for money herself and that he wouldn’t have to do it. But now probably wasn’t the time to push for that.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he decided, turning to sulk up the stairs. He didn’t even give her a kiss goodnight, which wasn’t like Bellamy at all. And it was so early. Usually she fell asleep first.

She looked back into the kitchen, at the heaping bowl of spaghetti she’d made. She could eat a lot of that herself, but it looked like they’d have plenty of leftovers now.

That night, Clarke slipped into bed quietly, even though she suspected Bellamy wasn’t asleep yet. He was usually a light snorer, but he wasn’t snoring at all. She managed to nod off, but as per usual, she ended up waking up a couple hours later to use the bathroom. When she came back out, she stood in the bathroom doorway for a moment and just looked at him, wondering if he’d been able to get any sleep at all, or if he had incessant stressful thoughts just nagging away at him. She knew what it was like to lie awake at night with insomnia, unable to shut your mind off. She’d experienced it plenty of times.

Clarke got back into bed as carefully and quietly as she could, just in case he was sleeping lightly, and curled up on her side on her big, comfy pillow. Now she felt like she wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep, either. And even if she did, she’d probably just end up having a really bad, really vivid dream anyway.

Beside her, Bellamy moved around a bit, tugging some of the covers up, but still, there was no trademark light snore, so she assumed he was definitely still awake. “Am I keeping you up?” she asked him quietly.

“No,” he said. “Can’t sleep.”

Just as she’d figured. Naturally. “You wanna borrow my pillow?” she offered.

“No, I think you’d better keep that.”

Yeah, it probably wouldn’t have worked the wonders for him that it often did for her. But she didn’t really know what else to do for him.

Just turning over onto her back was a real struggle at this point, and she couldn’t lie like that for long, because she started to feel woozy. So she managed to get onto her other side so she could face him. “We’ll be okay, Bellamy,” she said, concentrating on his eyes, because she could still see those well even in the dark bedroom.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “It’s just . . .” He trailed off, hesitating for a few long, drawn-out seconds before he wondered out loud, “What if I’m never something great? What if I work crap jobs for the rest of my life? Are you gonna be okay with that?”

“Of course.” That question was just as ridiculous as asking if she loved him. “But you’ll find a job you love someday,” she assured him. “And newsflash, you’re already something great. You’re a great guy. That’s why I’m so in love with you.”

He didn’t crack a smile or do anything to indicate that that made him feel any better. He was down, down on himself because of what had happened. “Can you believe people used to think I’d end up in the NFL?” He snorted. “I wonder what they think of me now.”

“Bellamy, everybody loves you,” she reminded him. “Just not as much as I do.” There wasn’t one person she knew, besides her mom, who didn’t think Bellamy was a totally amazing guy. And even her mom was finally starting to come around a bit.

Bellamy reached over, touching the back of her hand with his, and a few seconds later, he linked his fingers with hers. “You’re, like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole life, Clarke,” he told her, sounding . . . tearful. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled at him through the darkness. “That’s sweet. But you survived without me for five years.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I don’t ever wanna do it again.”

Neither did she. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and decided she’d stay awake until he finally managed to fall asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy didn’t waste any time the next day getting out there and looking for jobs. He looked around, asked around, and narrowed down his limited options. Some of the jobs just wouldn’t be right for him. (Fast food? No, he still couldn’t cook very well, so only if it was as last resort.) Other jobs would require more education than what he had. But there were a couple of openings up at the school, and one of them was for a para. He knew what paras did, because there had been paras who had helped him out in elementary school, back when he’d been reading three or four grade levels behind his peers. They worked with kids who needed extra help, and unfortunately, there was a lot of turnover.

It felt weird walking into the high school on a school day as a visitor. A couple people said hi to him, but he made a beeline for the office. Both of the secretaries who had been working there when he was in high school were still working there, and when he walked in, they laughed and made a joke that he’d been sent to the office again. Principal Sydney was dealing with a problem student, so he had to wait for her to come out of her office. She seemed surprised to see him, too, but when he told her why he was there, that surprise multiplied tenfold. She said they’d already conducted interviews and were in the process of making a final decision, but he begged her to give him an interview, too. And she finally gave in, rearranged one of her meetings for the day, and did just that.

As strange as it’d felt to walk into the high school as an adult rather than a student, it felt even stranger to be sitting in his old principal’s office, given the fact that he’d done his fair time of sitting in there getting lectured. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, though, and he wanted her to know that, so anytime he spoke, he tried to sound mature.

“I have to admit, Bellamy,” Mrs. Sydney said, “I never thought someone like you would apply for this job.”

_Someone like me?_ he thought, wondering what that meant. “Well, my schedule opened up, and . . . you know, I had some of the best years of my life in this school,” he said. “I’d love to come back.”

She smiled, as if it made her proud that a former student would want to return as an adult. “Para-educators are the unsung heroes of our staff,” she said. “You do realize that, right? They don’t get paid nearly as much as they should, and most of the parents and people in this community have no idea how much work they put in with our special education kids.”

“That . . . doesn’t deter me,” he said. Even if he didn’t make the money he’d made working construction, it’d be enough to get by. He wanted her to feel like his motivation was more than money, though, so he told her, “I’m gonna have a kid of my own soon. Did you know that?”

“I did hear about that,” she said. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said. “We’re naming her Avery. She’ll probably go to school here one day.”

“Maybe she’ll take after her mother.”

“Let’s hope.” He loved the thought of Avery being a mini-Clarke.

Mrs. Sydney’s smile started to fall a bit, and she leaned forward, setting her arms on her desk. “Listen, Bellamy, I have to be honest with you: When it comes to hiring former students, I try not to make a habit out of it. It’s just that it can be hard to work with staff members who were once your elders.”

“Well, they’re still my elders,” he pointed out. “I’m just old now, too.”

“Oh, how old are you? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four,” he corrected.

“That’s hardly old,” she said. “You could be doing anything with your life. Are you sure you wanna tie yourself down here?”

“Yeah. And I don’t think I’d be tied down,” he said. “I struggled in school; that’s no secret. I had dyslexia. I mean, I guess I still do, but . . .” He trailed off, because even though Mrs. Sydney had always known about his reading disorder, he still didn’t like talking about it. “My point is, I know what it’s like for those kids who struggle,” he said. “I know how frustrated they get. I know how hard it is for them. I can relate to them; I can help ‘em out. And I can start right away. If you’ll have me.” He gave himself a mental pat on back for what he thought was a pretty good sell. He’d always been good at interviews. He had people skills and charm on his side.

“Let me think about it,” the principal said. “I’ll let you know soon, okay?”

“Okay.” The both stood up, and he shook her hand and said, “Thanks, Mrs. Sydney.” Despite having barely gotten any sleep last night, he felt pretty good about the way this had gone, so hopefully he’d be starting a brand new job later this week.

“You know,” she said, “I think this is the only time you’ve been in my office without being in trouble.”

He cracked a smile and laughed a little. Because it was true. Very true.

The halls were quiet, everyone in class when Bellamy left the office. He spotted some stuff in the trophy case that caught his eye, though, some of _his_ trophies. Well, his team’s trophies, to be more exact. But there was a picture of him and his coach, too, in a gold frame. It’d been taken after the semifinals game, back when everyone had assumed they were destined to become champions.

Bellamy walked towards the glass cases, gazing in at all the plaques that they’d won year after year for winning their district, all the trophies that had gotten progressively bigger with each year he’d been in high school. Even without the championship trophy, it all still did look pretty impressive. And there hadn’t been any trophies since then, not even one district champ plaque.

Shoved down into the bottom right corner of the biggest case, not getting the attention it deserved, was the cheerleading squad’s third place trophy from the state competition six years ago. There was a picture of the squad posed with their trophy in front of them, all of them decked out in their uniforms and way too much makeup. Clarke wasn’t represented anywhere else in that trophy case, but there she was in that picture, looking so young, so pretty. Almost as pretty as she was nowadays.

Damn. High school had been good to them.

****

_It was a pretty rare thing for chemistry class to be quiet, but Bellamy suspected the whole school had fallen silent to hear the names for prom candidates be read over the intercom._

_“Zeke Shaw,” Principal Sydney began. “Roger Hamilton. Nathan Miller.”_

_“Nice.” Bellamy gave his best friend a low high-five._

_“And Bellamy Blake.”_

_“Oh, good,” Miller said, motioning to Zeke across the room. “It’s nice to know we don’t stand a chance.”_

_“I’m not guaranteed to get it,” Bellamy said, but his friends just shook their heads and scoffed at that._

_“And now, your candidates for prom queen,” Mrs. Sydney said. “Raven Reyes. Bree Barrett. Shannon Hightower. Clarke Griffin.”_

_Bellamy smiled, wishing he was in class with her right now. He would have loved to see her reaction to being nominated as a sophomore. It wasn’t very often that that happened._

_“Congratulations to all of this year’s nominees.”_

_Everyone began talking, and their chemistry teacher didn’t stand much of a chance at quieting them down. Some of the girls were complaining about not being nominated, or complaining about who was nominated, but everyone knew better than to say anything bad about Clarke around him. They were mainly pissed that Bree had been nominated since she’d already won homecoming queen. The guys, in contrast, didn’t seem to care much about the nominations. They started hatching post-prom plans right away. Bellamy didn’t really take part in the conversation, though. He didn’t care what anyone else was going to be doing. Prom night, for him, was going to be all about his girlfriend._

_In between classes, Bellamy took a detour into the sophomore hallway to find Clarke. She was at her locker, switching out her books and folders and whatever else good, diligent students brought with them to class. He snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Well, if it isn’t the prom queen.”_

_“Oh, yeah, right,” she said, shutting her locker and spinning around. “Raven’s gonna win. Or Bree.”_

_“Oh god, not Bree.” He’d been there, done that. Literally. “I don’t wanna dance with her.”_

_“Do you have to dance with the prom queen?” she asked._

_“If I get crowned king, yeah.” It was tradition._

_“Well, that’s definitely gonna happen, so . . . hmm, maybe I’d better start a campaign,” she mused. “Vote Clarke for prom queen. Defy the status quo.”_

_At this point, he wasn’t sure it was defying anything. Clarke probably didn’t realize it, but people paid a lot of attention to her. It came with the territory of popularity. “You really didn’t think you’d get nominated?” he asked her._

_“No. I’m just a sophomore,” she said. “Don’t seniors usually win?”_

_“Well . . . I’ve won every year.”_

_“Why am I not surprised?” She looped her arms around her neck and said, “No, I know why I’m nominated.”_

Because you’re amazing, _he thought._ And talented. And beautiful. And people love you.

_“It’s because I’m your girlfriend,” she said. “If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t be. And next year, when you’re gone, I’ll just fade back into obscurity.”_

_“Obscurity?” he echoed. “Clarke, you’re a cheerleader. There’s nothing obscure about that.”_

_“Yeah, but it won’t be the same,” she said._

_He thought about next year, her going to prom with someone else while he was in Orlando, probably getting ready for the spring game. “No, it won’t be,” he agreed, surprised at how somber the thought made him._

_The bell rang, and everyone left in the hallways went scurrying off to class. Clarke groaned, like she didn’t want to go, and said, “Biology beckons. I’ll see you at the lunch, though.” She gave him a quick kiss, then darted off in the direction of her next class. He was in no hurry, so he just stood there, thinking some more about next year, about what it would be like without all of this. And without her._

****

Bellamy liked looking at that photo of Clarke and their cheerleading trophy a lot more than he liked looking at any of the trophies he’d earned. It probably seemed backwards, but it made sense to him. Clarke’s accomplishments had only started back then. She’d gone on to graduate second in her class, to go to college with scholarships, and now she was going to graduate with a degree soon. But it was different for him. Everything in that trophy case commemorated the height of his success in life. UCF had never amounted to anything for him, and he’d never gone on to achieve everything people had assumed he would. Here he was now, unemployed and desperately searching for a job. So it actually kind of sucked to look at all those football trophies and think back to how he’d won them. Because it made him feel like he’d peaked in high school.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke made sure to step outside so she could greet Bellamy before he walked in the house. She knew the fancy red car in the driveway was going to catch him off guard.

“Hey,” she said, cupping his face to give him a kiss.

“Hey.” His eyes lingered on that vehicle, and he arrived at the obvious conclusion. “So your dad’s here.”

“Yeah.” She sort of cringed. “I didn’t know he was coming; he kind of just showed up. He’s on his way through town to go visit a friend in Cape Charles, so he thought he’d stop by.” She really wished he would have given her a little more forewarning. Then she could have cleaned up around the house a bit.

“Great timing,” Bellamy muttered.

She sighed, realizing it wasn’t ideal. But she couldn’t very well just tell her dad not to stop by. It happened so infrequently. “How’d it go today?” she asked him as they headed inside the house together.

“Fine,” he answered. “I had an interview up at the school.”

“The school?” That struck her as odd. Bellamy hadn’t exactly ever been a huge fan of school, at least not anything other than the socializing aspect of it. “What are you applying for?” she asked him.

“A para,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Yeah.” Hopefully it went . . . somewhere. She hated seeing Bellamy so down on himself like this.

Bellamy looked out back, where her dad was standing on the beach with his bare feet in the ocean, and said, “I should probably go say hi to him, huh?” He crossed through the house, opened up the backdoor, and walked out onto the porch, calling Jake’s name. Clarke decided to stay inside since it was a little chilly out there. Besides, she had to pee. Again.

On her way to the bathroom, her phone rang, so she headed back into the kitchen to get it. Octavia was calling, so she sat down at the counter and said, “Hey, Octavia.”

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Oh . . . it’s going.” Clarke looked outside and watched as her dad and her boyfriend talked. About something. Maybe the weather. Maybe sports. Definitely not work.

“So my brother hasn’t been answering his phone today,” Octavia said. “I’ve been trying to reach him.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because . . .” Octavia’s voice took on a different tone when she said, “I heard about what happened to him.”

Clarke was really glad Bellamy was outside now, so that he wouldn’t overhear any of this conversation. “How?” she asked his sister.

“Lincoln has some friends who work on that same construction crew. One of them got fired, one of them didn’t,” Octavia explained. “Lincoln heard that Bellamy got fired, too.”

“Yeah, but keep it on the down-low, alright?” Clarke told her. “I’m sure he’ll tell you and your mom at some point. He’s just . . . he’s kind of embarrassed right now.”

“Yeah,” Octavia said. “Well, let me know if he needs anything, alright?”

“Alright. Bye, Octavia.”

“Bye.”

Clarke ended the call, wondering who else knew at this point. It didn’t take long for word to spread in a small town.

She was once again about to take her bathroom break when the door opened and in walked her dad again. Bellamy was the one standing on the beach now, kicking at the sand with his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“He seems . . . down,” her dad remarked.

“Well, what do you expect?” Nobody was in the greatest mood of all time after getting fired. “Look, Dad,” she said, “you didn’t tell him I told you, right?”

Her father shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Good. Because he really doesn’t want people to know.”

“I’m glad you told me. I’m your father. It’s my job to help you out,” he said, standing on the other side of the counter. He took his checkbook out of his pocket, grabbed a pen from the counter, and asked, “Now how much should I make this out for?”

“Just whatever you feel comfortable with.” She’d be grateful for anything.

Her dad jotted down a three, followed by three zeroes.

“Oh, Dad . . . that’s too much,” she told him. She’d been expecting hundreds, not thousands. _Maybe_ a thousand dollars at most.

“No, I want you to have this,” he said as he wrote out the amount in words. “This should be enough to alleviate some stress for a while, give you time to focus on the baby.”

Bellamy may have been too proud to protest it, but she wasn’t. “Thank you,” she said. It really would help to not have as much financial stress to worry about.

“And this monthly rent payment can stop,” her dad decided. “You don’t owe your mother and I any money for living here.”

“No, I can still pay rent,” she offered. It’d been one of the stipulations of her moving into the beach house in the first place, and she didn’t want to flake on it.

“Nonsense,” her dad said decisively. “I won’t hear of it.”

Well . . . that sounded final. And she had to admit, being able to save a couple hundred bucks each month wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like either one of her parents actually needed the money anyway.

The conversation came to an abrupt end, and Clarke had to grab her purse so she could hide the check in it when Bellamy came inside. “Hey, you know what I forgot about?” he said. “We’re supposed to have dinner at my mom’s tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She’d forgotten, too. Now that her father was there, that sort of complicated things. Because he’d probably want to have dinner with them, too. “Do you wanna come along, Dad?” she asked him.

“I’d love to,” he said. “Haven’t seen Aurora in years.”

“Is that okay?” she asked Bellamy. Knowing his mom, she’d have plenty of food for all of them.

“Sure,” he said. “The more the merrier.”

_In theory_ , she thought. But nothing about her boyfriend was very merry right now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy knew he was being a lousy dinner guest. But he just couldn’t muster it up to generate much conversation. Luckily, his mom and Clarke’s dad did most of the talking. She asked him about Alyssa, and he raved about her. He was pretty open when it came to talking about the miscarriage, too. He said they both had good days and bad days and that Alyssa would have liked to be able to come along today, but she’d woken up and known it was a bad day, so she’d opted to stay home. Bellamy’s mom also asked Jake a lot about his job—his six-figure income job—and he told her everything she wanted to know. Bellamy sat there feeling envious, not because he wanted to be an engineer—fuck no, that sounded way too complicated—but because he knew he’d never make as much money as Jake did. He’d never be able to afford the nicest cars or the nicest house. He’d never be that successful.

“Well, your job sounds too complicated for me, Jake,” his mom said, folding her napkin atop her empty plate. “I’d better just stick to cleaning hotel rooms and sewing.”

“Mom . . .” He hated the way that sounded, so self-deprecating.

“What? There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said. “I’m not ashamed of what I do.”

“Of course not,” Jake said. “You work hard. Long hours, on your feet all the time . . . I doubt I could do your job.”

Clarke smiled at her and said, “He’s easier to get along with than my mom, isn’t he?”

“Well . . .” Aurora lowered her head and mumbled, “You said it, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, Abby can definitely be a little much,” Jake agreed. He turned to Bellamy and asked, “How’s she been treating you these days? Is she making things difficult?”

“Ah, she was, but . . . she’s kinda come around.” His current relationship status with Abby was probably the best it was gonna get, but at least it was tolerable for both of them.

“Yeah, it’s been better,” Clarke agreed. “Plus, now with her engagement, I’m hoping she’ll be more blissful.”

Jake laughed. “Your mom and _blissful_. Two words I just can’t connect.”

“Yeah, me, neither,” Clarke said. She sat up straighter, stretched a bit, and groaned, “Oh . . .”

“You alright?” Bellamy asked her.

“Yeah, just achy. What else is new, right?” she said. Then she yawned and added, “Kinda tired, too.”

_I probably kept her up all night_ , Bellamy thought. These past couple months, it’d been the other way around.

“It is late,” Jake said. “I should probably be on my way if I wanna make Cape Charles before it gets too late.”

“Well, it was good to see you again, Jake,” Bellamy’s mom said, standing up to clear everyone’s plates. “Thanks for joining us.”

“Thanks for having me,” he said.

Clarke didn’t look like she felt like moving, so Bellamy said, “You want me to go get your stuff?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled at him sweetly.

They’d dumped their coats and her purse in his bedroom, so he headed down the hall to go get it. He was pretty tired himself, so he kind of had to resist the urge to just flop down on his old bed and nod off. He probably could have.

When he grabbed Clarke’s purse, he noticed that it was unzipped a bit, so he tried to zip it back up for her. But the damn zipper got jammed, so he unzipped it all the way and then tried to zip it again. As he was sliding it forward, he caught sight of something inside: a slip of paper. But not just any paper. A check. A loose check just floating around in her purse.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled the check out of her purse. And for a second, his heart leapt, because . . . holy shit. Three-thousand dollars. But then his heart sank, because he saw the signature. _Jake Griffin._

It wasn’t just money she was carrying around. It was pity.


	50. Chapter 50

_Chapter 50_

Bellamy was strangely quiet the next morning, so that left Clarke to do most of the talking while she made breakfast. Now that simply moving from place to place was becoming such a hassle, she was spending more time in bed and more time on the couch, and she was watching a lot of TV. Particularly the Food Network. To her own amazement, she felt like she was learning some tricks of the trade and becoming a better cook.

“I probably won’t have anything to do after class today,” she said as she shifted his eggs around the frying pan. “Diyoza wants me to cut back on my hours because she doesn’t want me giving birth behind the bar.” She turned off the stove, brought the frying pan over to the counter, and scooped the eggs onto his plate, next to the toast she’d only _slightly_ burned. “So do you wanna go get lunch?” she asked him. “Or I could stop on the way home and get something.” He stared at . . . nothing, really. He looked like he was either not feeling well or was just lost in thought. “Or you could just sit and ignore me,” she mumbled.

His head turned towards her. “What?”

“Bellamy . . .” She put the frying pan back on the stove and sighed. “Talk to me. You were so quiet last night. I feel like you’re just shutting me out.” She understood that he was still upset about losing his job, but she’d sort of expected him to start bouncing back from it by now.

“Anything you wanna talk to me about?” he asked her.

“Just whatever you need to get off your chest.” She was willing to listen to him. If he needed to rant or vent, then she could be his soundboard for that. If he needed to cry about it, then she wasn’t going to judge him.

“I’m pissed, Clarke,” he grumbled.

“I know,” she said. “But you’ll get another job. You just have to--”

“No, I’m pissed at you.”

She blinked, confused, taken aback by that. “What?”

His eyes bore into hers, intensely sad, and he said, “You told your dad, didn’t you?”

She felt like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move or do anything. Her heart just sank.

“I asked you not to,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just thought we needed some help.”

“Three-thousand dollars’ worth of help?”

It was a lot, but she hadn’t been the one to write the check. “How did you know about that?” she asked him.

“I saw the check in your purse last night,” he told her. “We don’t need his money.”

“He’s my _dad_ , Bellamy. If he wants to help me out, then . . .”

He rose to his feet and roared, “No, it’s not just helping you out. It’s charity.”

“No,” she whimpered, realizing she’d started to cry.

“Yes, it is. He feels sorry for me. He doesn’t think I can take care of things around here or take care of you or . . .” His eyes drifted down to her stomach, and he blinked back tears of his own.

“Just cut him a little slack, Bellamy,” she suggested. “He’s just looking out for us.” It wasn’t something he needed to get worked up about. If he calmed down, then he’d realize this was a good thing, because they _did_ need the money whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Bellamy’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head angrily. “You shouldn’t have told him,” he said. “I trusted you, Clarke. I trusted you, and you told him anyway.” He left his breakfast on the counter and headed straight to the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. The door slammed, and Clarke inhaled sharply, shaken by what had just happened. He’d trusted her. He’d _trusted_ her.

_Oh, god_ , she thought as waves of guilt washed over her. She’d betrayed him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although his plan had been to go around and pick up some applications that day, Bellamy ended up at his mom’s house, intercepting her at the door just as she was about to head out for work.

“Hi, honey,” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m just gonna hang out for a while,” he said, easing past her so he could slip inside. He took off his jacket and shoes and spotted his sister down the hall.

“Wanna do my laundry?” she called out to him unenthusiastically.

“Wanna kiss my ass?” he shot back.

“Ooh, grumpy today.”

“Octavia . . . stop,” their mom said. Usually she just let them tear into each other.

“Sorry.” Octavia came to the doorway of the laundry room and stood there with her arms crossed, looking at him strangely. For once, it didn’t seem like she was going to tease him or taunt him or give him a hard time about anything. That wasn’t like his sister.

“Oh, no way,” he said, feeling like she was being sympathetic or something. “She told you guys, too?”

“Who told us what?” his mom asked.

“Clarke. She told you I lost my job.” Obviously they both knew. That was why they were acting weird.

“No,” Octavia said. “I just heard.”

“From who?”

“Lincoln.”

He nearly threw his hands up in the air. “ _Lincoln_ knows?” How the fuck had that guy found out? Was there a memo sent out or something? Was it in the morning paper?

“One of the girls I work with has a boyfriend who works with you,” Octavia attempted to explain.

“ _Worked_ with me,” Bellamy made sure to correct her. “Past tense.” Because he was fucking _fired_ now.

“Oh, Bellamy, it’s gonna be okay,” his mother assured him, coming up behind him to put a hand on his back. “You’ll find another job.”

“I don’t know. Nobody’s looking for a gondolier around here,” he deadpanned. The long-term jobs he had on his résumé were complete crap. Actually, he didn’t even _have_ a résumé, so maybe that was part of the problem. “Mom, I’m gonna—I’m gonna pay you back, too,” he promised her. “I just . . . I’m sorry I had to ask you for that, but I needed the money to pay for the ring. But I’m gonna pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.

“No, I will.” His mom worked hard for her money, and it wasn’t like she was swimming in cash, either. He wasn’t just going to take her money and not pay her back. No, he wouldn’t do that.

Glancing at his sister, he halfheartedly apologized, “Sorry for bein’ a dick, O.”

“That’s okay,” she said as she disappeared back into the laundry room. “I’m used to it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke sat on her bed, distraught as she stared at the silver necklace dangling from her fingers. _To me, you are perfect_ , it read. Bellamy had gotten her that years ago. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth, could it? If she was perfect, she would have been someone he could trust _all the time_ , not just some of the time. She would have respected his wish to keep the job and money stuff between them, and she wouldn’t have told her dad.

Sometimes she really felt like Bellamy deserved someone better than her.

****

_“Okay, smile!”_

_“Wait a minute,” Clarke said, flipping her necklace around. Not that anyone looking at those photos was going to be able to see what it said anyway, but just in case. “Okay, ready,” she said then, leaning back against Bellamy, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her waist. They’d come down to the beach with Raven and Zeke, and Miller, who was proudly proclaiming himself the fifth wheel. Jasper was too young to go to prom, and Monty had two left feet and no date, so it was just the five of them._

_“Is this the beach where we . . .” Bellamy trailed off._

_“Uh-huh,” she said. Technically, it’d been the ocean, but yeah._

_“Nice.” He must have had a proud smirk on his face. She couldn’t see him, but she knew it was there._

_Zeke’s mom had an old school camera and fancied herself an amateur photographer, so she took tons of pictures. Raven’s dad took a lot, too, on his phone, and Aurora had managed to get the night off work so she could get in on the prom action, too. Miller’s parents, still adjusting to his coming out, had decided not to tag along, and Clarke felt bad for him. At least both her parents had come and were taking pictures. Her mom was definitely doing it begrudgingly, though, and Clarke was pretty sure she’d crop Bellamy out of all the photos. But her dad snapped more of them, and he seemed genuinely excited for her to be attending her first prom ever._

_Mrs. Shaw got them to do all sorts of cool things. She got some of them all holding hands and jumping in the air, some of them running down the beach, trying to look natural despite the fact that they were technically posing, and some of them drawing hearts in the sand. She took photos of just the three guys, then just of Clarke and Raven, and then she got pictures of both the couples. Clarke noticed her mom had completely checked out at that point, but both Aurora and her dad stood over Mrs. Shaw’s shoulder, snapping pictures on their phones._

_All in all, it was a_ lot _of photography, and Clarke’s face sort of hurt from all the smiling afterward. Once they’d lost their lighting and the sun had pretty much set, they all climbed into Bellamy’s truck—who needed a limo when you had a truck?—and drove off to the school. Arkadia was too cheap to rent out a nice location for the dance, so they just cleared out the cafeteria, put up some decorations to disguise the usual ugliness, and had it in there. Clarke actually knew exactly what to expect. Since she was on student council, she’d had to help decorate._

_On their way, Miller brought up what had been the big topic of conversation at school the past week when he said, “So, Clarke, you ready to get crowned prom queen?”_

_“No, that’s not gonna happen,” she said modestly. Although . . . a lot of people in choir had said they were voting for her. And a lot of people had congratulated her for getting nominated._

_“Oh, it’s gonna happen,” Raven declared confidently._

_Clarke twisted around and said to her friend, “Well, what about you? You’re nominated.”_

_“Yeah, but I’m not gonna win.”_

_“Don’t say that, baby,” Zeke said, touching the curly tendrils of hair that framed Raven’s face. “I’m sure lots of people voted for you.”_

_“And I’m sure lots more voted for Mrs. Bellamy Blake up there,” she said, motioning to Clarke. “It’s okay. As long as I get to be your queen.”_

_They smiled at each other, started to kiss, and Miller scooted towards the window a bit. “I’m uncomfortable back here,” he said._

_Clarke cast a glance at the inevitable prom king behind the wheel, just to see if he’d had any reaction to Raven’s Mrs. Bellamy Blake comment. He either hadn’t heard it, or he’d liked it, because he was just grinning._

_Once at the dance, Clarke was so glad she’d listened to Raven’s advice on dresses. Raven had been attending prom since she’d been a freshman and knew all about which style of gown to avoid. This year, she’d opted for a flowy maroon dress that she could really move in, and she’d steered Clarke away from mermaid ball gowns because those made even walking difficult. Clarke had gone with a light blue two-piece dress that had an off-the-should top and a flowing skirt. But it didn’t have a long train or anything, wasn’t something people would step on. Some of the other girls, like Bree, were having a hell of a time. She’d worn a skin-tight sequined thing that required her to waddle around rather than actually walk or dance._

_But Clarke danced. She wasn’t as strong of a dancer as Raven, but she still let loose out there with her friends, and her boyfriend, who had avoided the spiked punch all in an effort to keep his word about not drinking to her mother. The music wasn’t great, but that didn’t matter. They were all there together, so everything felt perfect. Fast songs, slow songs . . . she danced to almost all of them. And whenever the boys got tired and tried to go sit down, she and Raven grabbed them and made them stay._

_About halfway through the dance, they stopped the music, and Mrs. Sydney got up on stage behind the microphone. “At this time,” she said, “we’d like to have all of the prom candidates come up on the stage.”_

_Raven did a quick hair and makeup check, not of herself, but of Clarke. “You’re the one who’s gonna be in the spotlight,” she said. She and Zeke headed up onstage first, and Bellamy took Clarke’s hand and escorted her up there. It felt so strange being with all the popular people. Not that she’d ever been_ un _popular, but . . . getting nominated for prom queen was just surreal. She’d never imagined it would happen, and in fact, she hadn’t been one of those girls to fantasize about it growing up. But now that she was here, she had to admit, it was kind of nice._

_“Good luck,” Bellamy said, his hand slipping from hers as he walked over to the other side of the principal, where all the guys were standing. Clarke fell in line next to Raven and tried not to laugh as Bree struggled to climb up the steps and onto the stage._

_Once they were all up there and everyone was paying attention, the principal cleared her throat and said, “Alright, you voted, and now, it’s time to crown this year’s prom royalty. Without further ado, the runner up and prom prince is . . . Nathan Miller.”_

_There was applause, of course, but some of it was tepid. Unfortunately, not everyone was cool with Miller being gay, even though he’d been gay, unbeknownst to them, his whole life. But Bellamy yelled, “Yeah, man!” and gave his surprised friend a shove forward. And that was like everyone else’s cue to clap louder. Miller got a small crown and got behind the microphone long enough to say, “Wow, this is unexpected. Thanks, guys.”_

_People clapped for him some more, and Clarke leaned in towards Raven and whispered, “I’m so glad for him.” He’d had a rough month and deserved some recognition for being a good, likeable guy._

_“Me, too,” Raven agreed._

_Mrs. Sydney congratulated Miller, then cleared her throat again and announced, “And your prom king is . . .” She drew it out, as if anyone was in suspense._

_“Bellamy!” someone in the audience shouted. And they were followed by someone else, and someone else._

_“Bellamy Blake,” Mrs. Sydney revealed. “Four years in a row.”_

_The applause was thunderous as Bellamy came up to the podium and accepted his crown, just like he’d probably become accustomed to doing. Where did he put all those crowns anyway? Clarke had never seen them in his room, so maybe he just got rid of them. Or maybe his mom had a special place for them. Clarke could see Aurora caring about them more than Bellamy did._

_“Four years in a row. Wow,” Bellamy said into the microphone. “I can’t help it that I’m popular.”_

_Clarke burst out laughing, as did anyone else who was familiar with the movie_ Mean Girls. _Yep, Bellamy had really just referenced that flick._

_Everyone knew the whole prom royalty thing kind of centered on the ladies, though, and Clarke felt her heart start to beat a little faster when Principal Sydney turned to them and smiled. “And now for the girls,” she said, and everyone fell silent. Raven reached down and squeezed Clarke’s hand excitedly._

I can’t believe this is about to happen, _Clarke thought, beaming a smile at Bellamy. Last year at this time, she’d been at home studying, looking at other people’s prom photos on Instagram whenever she needed a break. Now, she was actually here, and this was actually about to happen._

_“In one of the closest votes in school history,” Principal Sydney said, “runner up and prom princess . . .” Once again, she drew it out. And then . . . “Clarke Griffin.”_

_A few people gasped in surprise, but most just clapped. And Clarke had to make sure she didn’t look too disappointed. Because even though she’d been trying to remain modest about the whole thing, she’d believed the hype, for sure, and she hadn’t expected her name to be called for runner-up._

_“Yeah!” Bellamy exclaimed. “That’s my girl!”_

Your girl didn’t win prom queen, _she thought, feeling oddly . . . disappointed in herself. She went up to the podium, got a small but pretty crown, and said, “Thank you,” politely. Getting nominated at all was pretty flattering, and being voted the runner-up was even more so._

_That left only one announcement, and it was the big one. “And your prom queen,” Mrs. Sydney said, “is Bree Barrett.”_

_There was a mixed response to that one. Some groans of disgust, other wild hollers, and Raven’s exaggerated eye roll. Bellamy fake-coughed and said, “Recount!” but Bree must have been oblivious to it all as she waddled up to the podium and accepted a gigantic, sparkly crown. “Oh my god, I told myself I wasn’t gonna cry,” she said, fanning away fake tears. She practically pushed the principal aside so she could have total control of the mic. “Thank you, everyone. It’s so great to know that people love me,” she said. “I’ve always felt like I deserve to be prom queen. From a very young age, I just knew it would happen.”_

_Thankfully, Mrs. Sydney didn’t let that go on too long. “Okay, it’s time for the royal couple to share their dance,” she said._

_“I agree,” Bellamy said. But instead of holding out his arm for Bree, he came up to Clarke and said, “Come on.”_

What? _she thought, linking her arm with his. This wasn’t the tradition. “Bellamy . . .” she said, walking down the steps with him as a romantic, slow song began to play. “I think you’re supposed to dance with her.”_

_“I don’t want to,” he said, and the dance floor cleared out for them. Bree was huffing and puffing up on stage, but when Miller offered to dance with her up there, that seemed to placate her. Zeke and Raven started dancing up there, too, and a few other couples did the same off in the corner or by their tables. But around the dance floor, most of the people just stood in a circle and watched. It was sort of strange and made Clarke feel like an animal in the zoo. But Bellamy just seemed used to it. And why wouldn’t he be? Four years in a row and all._

_“Look at you,” she said, readjusting the crown on his head as they swayed together. “You’re a king.”_

_“Yep.”_

_“And I’m a princess.” At first, she almost felt like she’d let him down, like she hadn’t held up her half of the relationship by being crowned the winner just like he was. But obviously he didn’t care about anything like that. And besides, Bree had probably only gotten a lot of votes because she’d . . . well, gotten with a lot of guys._

_“Prettiest princess I’ve ever seen,” he said, rubbing her back._

Princess, _she thought, smiling. Yeah, she kind of liked it. “Bellamy?” she said, gazing up into his eyes, getting lost in them the way she always did. “This whole year kind of feels like a dream.”_

_He smiled back at her and said, “I know.” Her necklace must have turned around again, because he reached down and flipped it over for her, his fingertips linger on her skin before returning to her waist. Everywhere he touched just felt electric._

_Everyone else kind of started to fade away, and it felt like just the two of them in her bedroom again, having their own dance with no one else around. Even though it was his fourth year doing this, she knew this one had to be special for him. Because it was special to her, too, and it always would be. Tonight, he got to be a king, and she got to be a princess, and their lives felt like fairytales._

****

Weeping, Clarke pulled open the nightstand drawer and dropped the necklace back inside, shoving it shut. Perfect? Yeah, right. That was a fucking joke, and it always had been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Seeing Octavia on the couch with an open book in her lap was pretty damn miraculous, so Bellamy tried not to bother her when he headed for the door. But of course she looked up from the pages and said, “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. See ya.” He put on his jacket and reached for the door, but of course she had to say something to stop him.

“Hey, Bellamy?”

Door halfway open, he turned back around.

“Clarke didn’t say anything to me about your job,” she told him. “In fact, when I mentioned it to her, she asked me not to tell anyone.”

Still pissed off about the whole thing, he grumbled, “That’s ironic. Bye.” He walked out the door hastily, just not in the mood to socialize. Normally, he would have hung out with his sister for a while, but hell, she’d get more studying done on her own. Maybe.

In the car, Bellamy blasted some angry rock music—very stereotypical, sure, but it fit his mood—and debated whether or not it was worth it to go pick up an application at Burger Hut. He _really_ didn’t want to work fast food, but even if they weren’t hiring now, they’d probably have a job open up in a week or two. And then, at the very least, they’d have his application on file . . .

He had his music so loud that he barely heard his phone ring. His first thought was to just ignore it, because he didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but then he remembered that Mrs. Sydney might be calling him, so he quickly turned off the music, grabbed his phone, and took a look at the screen. Yeah, that was definitely the school’s number calling. He’d seen that number on his mom’s phone a lot growing up, with teachers and other staff members calling her to report on what trouble he’d gotten into that day.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Bellamy, it’s Diana Sydney,” his former principal said. “Did I catch you in the middle of anything?”

“Uh, no, I can talk.” He gently applied the brake as he approached a red light and waited for her to say . . . something. Hopefully something good.

“Great,” she said. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you how great it was to see you yesterday. You’re certainly not the same as I remember.”

“I take it that’s a good thing,” he joked.

She laughed a little, but it didn’t last long, and then her tone was serious again. “Unfortunately, I can’t offer you the job as a para,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d let himself get his hopes up until they came crashing down. He hadn’t gotten the job. Fantastic. It’d probably been a long shot, but for some reason, he’d assumed that he’d have the charm and people skills to carry him through an interview and convince her to take a chance on him. But apparently he’d overestimated his abilities. “That’s okay,” he said, sucking it up. “I get it.” She was probably going to hire someone older, farther removed in age from the students, someone with more impressive work experience.

“But,” she added, much to his surprise, “there might be another job I could offer you.”

Another job? Up at the school? He hadn’t seen anything advertised besides . . .

Oh, no. He didn’t want that job.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy stayed out the rest of the day after talking to Mrs. Sydney. She’d assured him he could call her Diana now, but that felt too weird, so he was sticking with Mrs. Sydney no matter what name permissions she gave him.

He ended up at Eligius for the second night in a row, by himself, drowning his disappointments. Because he didn’t have sorrows, so he couldn’t drown those. No, his life could have been a lot worse. He was just bummed that things had gone down the way they had with his construction job, and it wasn’t fun knowing his future career options were so limited. Without football, he didn’t have any direction in life, so he just had to latch onto whatever came along. 

Clarke’s boss poured him another drink and warned, “Don’t start making a habit out of this.”

“What?”

She gave him a stern look. “Drinking alone.”

“No, I’m not,” he assured her. “My week’s just been shit.”

“You and half the people in here,” she said.

Bellamy looked around. There was a guy sitting a few stools down whose clothes were filthy, so who knew what kind of manual labor he did for work? And there was a middle-aged couple at one of the tables who weren’t even talking to each other. It wasn’t exactly a happening night at Eligius Bar & Grill. So he fit right in.

“Anything you wanna talk about?” Diyoza asked him

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“Well, then maybe you should go home and talk to Clarke,” she suggested.

If only it were that simple. Bellamy took a drink, then divulged some stuff to her. “We kinda got into an argument this morning. We don’t fight much. And I feel like an ass, ‘cause she’s pregnant, so the last thing she needs is me gettin’ pissed at her.”

“Was it even something worth fighting about?” Diyoza questioned.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I think I have every right to be upset, but . . . I don’t wanna fight with her.”

“So don’t. Go home and apologize,” she advised. “And she’ll apologize, too, for whatever she did. And then . . . well, I was gonna say you’ll fall into bed and make lots of babies, but . . .”

He managed a little bit of a laugh. Just a little bit.

“Go home, Bellamy,” she told him. “Talk to your girlfriend.”

Again, she made it sound so simple. And the longer he sat there thinking about it, the more he realized . . . it _was_ that simple. There was really nothing else they could do other than talk it out, work through it, and move on. “Thanks,” he said, slapping enough money down on the counter to pay for what he’d drank.

“You good to drive?” she asked him on his way out.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t drunk or anything, and he was heading straight home. To the girl who loved him.

Clarke’s car was in the driveway, but the house was still and quiet when he walked in. “Clarke?” he called. The living room TV wasn’t on, and the kitchen looked just as he’d left it that morning. Except the breakfast she’d made for him was in the trash.

He headed upstairs and found the bedroom similarly quiet, but he heard the sink running in the bathroom. When she came out and saw him standing in the doorway, she froze, almost like she hadn’t expected him to come home tonight. But it wasn’t like he’d ever planned on staying out all night. He’d just needed some space today, and now that he’d gotten it, he’d calmed down.

“Hey, Princess,” he said.

Her mouth curved upward just a bit, like she was trying to smile, but she looked too sad to pull it off.

“Can we talk?”

Wordlessly, tearfully, she nodded and went to the bed, sitting down. He moved her huge pillow out of the way so he could sit next to her and started with the big reveal: “So I got a job today.”

Her whole face lit up. “What?”

“Yeah. Up at the school.”

And her whole face just lit up even more. “You got the para job?” she exclaimed. “Bellamy, that’s great.”

“Actually,” he said, “I’m gonna be a janitor.”

The excitement on her face . . . it didn’t _wane_ so much as it _changed_. She realized she’d assumed something that wasn’t true, and now she had to act excited for something that was a lesser accomplishment. “Oh. Well—well, that’s good, too,” she said. Bless her heart, she’d tried, but it was like watching someone open a Christmas gift they didn’t really want.

“Wasn’t Finn a janitor before he started working at Target?” Bellamy recalled. He was down in the Finn ranks now.

“It doesn’t matter,” Clarke said.

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” The world needed janitors, just like it needed doctors and lawyers and professional athletes. “I’ll probably get to coach football next year,” he said, excited about that prospect, at the very least. “The team kinda sucks without me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She looked down at her lap, exhaled slowly, and looked like she _really_ had a lot of things she wanted to say to him. She started in with, “Bellamy--” right at the time he said, “Clarke . . .”

They both laughed a little, and he said, “You go.”

“No, you,” she said.

It’d sort of been in the back of his mind all day, what he’d say to her when he got home. He’d been thinking about it while trying to take a nap at his mom’s, while driving out onto the open highway for a while to mull over Mrs. Sydney’s offer. He’d thought about it while he’d been sitting at the bar by himself, and he’d thought about it on the drive home. No matter what spiel he came up with in his head, it always started out the same way, with an apology. “I’m sorry I just stormed out this morning,” he said. “I should’ve stayed and talked it out with you. We’re not gonna see eye to eye on everything, and when that happens, I need to handle it better.” Swallowing his pride, he hesitated for a moment, then said, “And I thought about it, and . . . I do understand why you told your dad. And I am kinda glad he gave you the money.” Three-thousand dollars was nothing to scoff at. “You didn’t rip up the check, did you?”

“No,” she said. “But we don’t have to cash it.”

“No, we’ll cash it.” He wasn’t such an idiot that he was going to turn down money from a man who had more of it than he knew what to do with. “But I’ll pay him back someday. When I can.” His mom came first on his ever-lengthening IOU list, because she needed the money more than Jake did. “Anyway . . . that’s pretty much it. I’m sorry.”

Clarke nodded, but instead of looking happy or relieved, she still looked sad, and tears started to fall from her eyes.

“Oh, no, Clarke, don’t—don’t cry,” he said, trying to wipe some of her tears away for her. “I don’t wanna make you cry again.”

“It’s just . . . I feel awful,” she wept. “You were right, Bellamy. You did trust me, and I betrayed your trust. I’m a horrible person.”

Well, this had escalated quickly. It had to be the hormones. “Would you stop?” he said, not willing to let her talk about herself that way. “You’re the most amazing person I know.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head adamantly. She reached over into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the necklace he’d given her for Christmas all those years ago. “You see this?” she said, dangling it in front of him. “This is a lie. This isn’t me. I’m not perfect. I mean, if you even knew . . .”

He snatched the necklace out of her hand and said, “Clarke, look at me.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Look at me.” He cupped her cheek with one hand, waiting until she finally lifted her head and met his eyes to continue. “I love you so much,” he told her. “And I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

Her bottom lip quivered, and she sniffed back tears. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy,” she apologized. “I’m sorry for everything . . .”

He leaned in, silencing her with a kiss. That was just about enough of this. He wasn’t going to let Clarke have a horrible night after what had undoubtedly been a horrible day. It was done and over with, and in the end, it was all okay. He didn’t feel betrayed, and she didn’t need to feel guilty about it. He loved her just as much as he always had, just as much as he always would.

The kiss deepened, and everything about Clarke just seemed to calm right down. Her tears stopped, her shaky breathing stopped, and Bellamy moved closer to her so he could tangle his hand in her hair. Sometimes he missed her long hair, but this shorter cut suited her, too. He wondered if she missed his clean-shaven face when she reached up to stroke his beard. If she did, she didn’t complain.

They probably could have talked some more, but was it really necessary at this point? They’d both said what they needed to say. Out loud, at least. But there were certain things he felt like he could only say by touching her, so one of his hands found its way to the bottom of her shirt, tugging it upward over her stomach. Undressing her while she was pregnant took a little longer than it did when she wasn’t, just because it was harder for her to move around and to help him. But he was patient, and watching every inch of her exquisite body come into view was a pleasure all on its own.

He took his clothes off, too, wishing so badly that he could just lie down on top of her and make love to her. Because that was what they were doing. There was a difference between this, this slow and sensual thing, and just fucking. Neither one was really better than the other, but right now, this was what they both needed.

Positions were definitely limited, but after he’d worked her up with his fingers for a few minutes, he curled up behind her on his side, gently urging her legs apart with his knee. He grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and put it down in between her legs to keep the one slightly elevated and slowly slid inside her, pushing as deep as he could go, trying to lose himself in her. She moaned, of course, threw her head back against his shoulder, and whispered his name.

He concentrated everything on her as he began to move. The pace and depth of his thrusts, the placement of his arms, one beneath her head and the other draped over her belly. He pressed kisses to the back of her neck and breathed hotly against her skin. And then, when she wasn’t expecting it, when she was so wrapped up in the physical sensations of all of this that she probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, he picked up the necklace off the bed, the one he’d taken from her and forgotten about in the midst of undressing. Somehow, he managed to unclasp it and hook it around her neck without stopping what he was doing, without ever letting up on making love to her. Maybe she didn’t feel like she deserved to wear it anymore, but she did. She was still perfect to him.


	51. Chapter 51

_Chapter 51_

Clarke had lost track of how many times she’d been to the hospital in the past thirty-five weeks. For the remainder of her pregnancy, she had to do weekly visits with Dr. Jackson. It worked out in her schedule, because she didn’t have classes on Wednesdays, but it didn’t work out so well for Bellamy. Fortunately, working for her dad meant that Raven was able to get the day off and go with Clarke when Bellamy couldn’t.

“Oh, wow, listen to this,” Raven said as she read something off her phone. “‘Your uterus—which was entirely tucked away inside your pelvis when you conceived—now reaches up under your rib cage.’”

Clarke shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t remind me.”

“‘It is ballooning and crowding your other internal organs, too,’” Raven read on, “‘which is why you probably have to pee more often and may be dealing with heartburn and other gastrointestinal distress.’ Huh.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Clarke asked.

“Sure.” Raven put her phone away, then angled her body towards Clarke and said, “Okay, not to toot my own horn or anything, but your baby shower is gonna be a blast.”

“No, I mean . . . something _else_? Something besides this?” She looked pitifully at her stomach and whimpered, “It’s just . . . I’ve been pregnant for so long now. So many months. I barely even remember what it feels like to just be a normal human being anymore.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Raven said, rubbing Clarke’s shoulder. “You’re in the home stretch. You got this.”

She kept telling herself that, but she still had weeks to go, and weeks felt like a very long time. “Just talk to me about other stuff,” she begged. “Please?”

“Okay.” Although she seemed willing to do that, Raven hesitated, as if she were drawing a blank. “Well . . .” It took her several more seconds to come up with something, and when she did, it was, “Murphy and I had some really great sex last night.”

Clarke made a face. “Not that.”

“Well, that’s the only other thing on my mind. Besides aerodynamics, but I doubt you wanna hear about that.”

She really didn’t, but it was better than thinking about Murphy in the sack. “Sure. Aerodynamics,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Much to her relief, a nurse came out into the waiting room and said, “Clarke? You can come on back now.”

“Oh, thank God.” She really hadn’t been eager to hear about aerodynamics. Raven could go on and on when it came to mechanical engineering.

Just getting out of her chair was a struggle, and even though Raven offered to help her up, Clarke was determined to do it on her own. The first thing the nurse did when they got back to the room was weigh her. She’d already gained thirty-two pounds and could expect to gain about a pound per week for the rest of her pregnancy.

When Dr. Jackson showed up in the room, he did his routine checkup, then sat down at the computer to type out all her current symptoms. Everything was still normal, he assured her, and it was encouraging that her Braxton Hicks contractions were not too frequent. As he typed, he interspersed non-medical questions, such as, “So, no Bellamy today?”

“No,” Clarke replied. “He wanted to be here, but he’s going through training at his new job.”

“Where’s he working?”

“Uh, up at the school.”

Dr. Jackson looked . . . semi-surprised. “Oh, is he a teacher?”

“No.” She suspected Bellamy wouldn’t want her publicizing what he was doing for work, so she left it vague when she said, “It’s a different job.”

“What’s he do?”

_Oh, crap_. She was backed into a corner now. She didn’t _have_ to tell him, but she also didn’t think it was anything Bellamy should be ashamed of. Maybe she could think of a different term for it, like _custodial work_ or something.

Thankfully, Raven jumped in with a question to distract the doctor. “Dr. Jackson, is it true that Clarke has to come in for weekly checkups now?” she asked.

“Yes. She’s in the home stretch.”

Raven smirked. “That’s what I told her.”

Clarke was glad she no longer had to answer the doctor’s question and that he could just come to his own conclusions, if he ever even thought about it again. “I brought my birth plan with me today,” she said, motioning for Raven to hand her her purse. She unzipped it, took the papers out of it, and handed it over to Jackson. “I think it’s as finalized as it’s gonna get.”

“Good,” he said. “Do you need a copy?”

“No, I already made one.” She also had it memorized because she’d looked over it so many times.

“We’ll keep this in your records,” Dr. Jackson said, sliding it into her file folder. “Looks like you learned a lot in your Lamaze classes.”

“Yeah, we did. I feel a little more prepared now,” she told him. “Still terrified, but more prepared.”

Dr. Jackson smiled, his eyes on her birth plan as he skimmed it. “I see you want to try for a natural birth.”

She opened her mouth to confirm that, but Raven interrupted with an incredulous, “Are you crazy? Do you know how much that’s gonna hurt?” She must have realized that that wasn’t what Clarke needed to hear, because she quickly backtracked and changed her tune. “I mean . . . you’re gonna be fine. And that’s really admirable.”

“There’s nothing admirable about it,” Clarke said. “Women used to give birth without drugs all the time.”

“And you can always request pain medication if you need it,” Dr. Jackson reminded her.

“Exactly. I might as well try.” Chances were, she’d be crying and begging for an epidural once her labor progressed. But it didn’t hurt to start out with natural childbirth in mind.

As they were leaving, Raven apologized, “Sorry for my little outburst. I just can’t really imagine . . .” She shuddered. “Well, I mean, the sex alone with Murphy last night was kinda painful. Granted, we were using a--”

“Raven,” Clarke cut in. “I don’t need a visual.”

“Right,” Raven said. “So, aerodynamics then?”

“Aerodynamics.” Clarke laughed, glad that her best friend had tagged along today. It wasn’t the same as having her _other_ best friend there with her, but he was hard at work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It felt weird for Bellamy to be back in his old Spanish classroom, almost like he was seeing it through different eyes. In some ways, everything looked the same—same tables and chairs, same posters on the walls, same stuff on the teacher’s desk—but being there as a janitor meant that things looked different, too. The floor looked messier than he remembered, for starters. The tables all needed to be cleaned off. And the trash was overflowing. It looked like the class had had a food day.

His boss, Steve, opened the door to the room and poked his head in. “Blake,” he said. “You done with this room yet?”

He wasn’t even close to being done, so he lied. “Almost. Was I supposed to wipe off the white boards?”

“No,” Steve said. “Mrs. Jansen writes her lesson plans up for the entire week. Now she’ll have to re-write ‘em tomorrow.”

_Oops_ , Bellamy thought. His mistake. But there hadn’t been any way for him to know that.

“Hurry up,” his boss said. “We got a lot of other classrooms to clean.” Then he shut the door and took off at a brisk pace down the hall. Nothing ever happened slowly with Steve. He went right from one task to the next, never off his feet. It was like he wanted to get the work done as quickly as possible, which wasn’t easy since it was only him, Bellamy, and one other guy working there. They split up the duties and tried to get a head start on cleaning the classrooms for teachers whose last period of the day was their planning period, but they still had dozens of classrooms, a lunchroom, and multiple bathrooms to clean. Not to mention the gym. Luckily it wasn’t basketball or volleyball season, because when those sports were going on, Steve warned him that they could be there until midnight.

Bellamy was pretty sure he’d done something to break his vacuum, so he went around the room picking things up off the floor by hand. Since there was hardly any room in the trashcan, he had to smash it all down. When he lifted the bag out of the bin, it burst open at the bottom, and all sorts of trash fell out, all over the floor.

Right at that moment, the bell rang to signal the end of the day, and when Bellamy heard it, it was so familiar that his first instinct was to grab his stuff and head out into the hallways. The students flocked out of their classrooms, but he wasn’t one of them anymore. Most of them were on their phones or too busy talking to each other to notice him in there picking up all the trash he’d just spilt, but one girl walked past, looked in the window, and stopped. “Is that Bellamy Blake?” he heard her ask to one of her friends. That girl looked in at him, too, mouth slightly agape, and said, “No way.”

_Yeah, it’s me_ , he thought morosely, looking away from them. He felt like a circus animal. Except he wasn’t entertaining anybody. He was just working a pathetic job. And they were watching him. He didn’t even know who they were, but they knew who he was. They’d probably been sitting in the crowd during all those pep rallies he used to have to speak at. Maybe they’d even been at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Or maybe they’d even gone to the games he’d played in, the ones he’d won _and_ the one where he’d thrown an interception to end the season.

Whoever they were, they must not have been very nice girls. Because as they watched him work, they laughed at him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I smell like trash,” Bellamy lamented as he sat in the bathtub that night.

Perched on the side of the tub, Clarke assured him, “No, you don’t,” and pressed a sponge to his collarbone. “You smell clean.” She squeezed the water out, and it trickled down his chest.

“Well, I smelled like trash when I came home.” He couldn’t get the smell out of his nose. These first few days on the job had it stuck there.

“You know, you don’t have to work there if you don’t want to,” she said, dunking the sponge in the soapy water again. “You can find another job.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “It’s just temporary.” He’d work there for a couple of months, just to have some steady employment to help support the baby. Steve had told him that the summertime work was hard, physically, but involved less day-to-day maintenance and cleaning since the kids weren’t there. They’d be repainting classrooms and even refurnishing some. Manual labor stuff. He could handle that.

Clarke again squeezed the sponge out against his chest, looking down at him sympathetically. He didn’t want her feeling sorry for him, though. Sure, his feet hurt after being on them all day, but her feet had been hurting for months. His back hurt, but so did hers. He was tired, but so was she. “I wish you could get in here with me,” he said. This bath was pretty relaxing, but it’d be even more relaxing with her.

“I know,” she said. “But I’ve read too much about the dangers of baths during pregnancy. Besides, if I got in the tub, I wouldn’t be able to get out.”

“I could lift you,” he said.

“You could?”

He looked at her belly and said, “Maybe.” He could’ve lifted a normal-sized Clarke without problem.

“Thanks for saying that.” She got up with a groan and stretched as best she could.

“No, if it came down to it and I had to pick you up and run you to the hospital right now, I could still do it,” he said. “Guaranteed. It just might take me a while.”

“And your arms might fall off in the process.” She walked over to the mirror and bemoaned, “Look at me. I’m huge.”

“You’re beautiful.” He stood up, got out of the tub, and grabbed his towel off the floor to dry off.

“I wonder what I’ll look like after this is all said and done,” she said, turning to the side to survey her profile. “I wonder what my boobs will look like.”

“I love your boobs.”

“I know you do.” She turned back around to look at her reflection straight-on and sighed heavily, shaking her head.

Bellamy wrapped the towel around his waist and drifted over to her, embracing her from behind. He put one arm under her breasts and the other on the side of her stomach. “See?” he said. “Look how sexy we are.”

She snorted. “ _You_ are.”

“No, both of us.” He kissed the side of her neck and her cheek, then kept his face near hers as they looked in the mirror. “So, you got your baby shower tomorrow, right?”

“Yep.”

He halfway cringed. “Do I have to go to that?”

“No,” she said. “It’s gonna be a female bonding type of thing.”

“Yep, I got the wrong hormones for that.” He unwound his arms from her and grabbed his deodorant off the sink to spread some under his arms.

“What’re you gonna do?” she asked him.

“I don’t know. Hang out with the guys, maybe.”

“Doing what?”

He shrugged. “Guy stuff.” They could go out and shoot some pool or go to Miller’s to play some video games. Miller had a massive game collection. And Jasper had a massive porn collection, so . . . there was that option, too.

“You could break out that poker stuff I got you for Christmas,” Clarke suggested. “You know, the stuff that you’ve never played with.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “We’ve played.”

“When?”

“Well . . .” He definitely didn’t even remember where he’d put those poker supplies, so it was hard to come up with a lie. “There was that time . . .”

“Oh, just stop,” she said. “I know I’m not a good gift-giver. Not like you.” She waddled out into the bedroom, and Bellamy smiled, thinking about a particular gift that he had yet to give her, one that would blow everything else out of the water. Small. Shiny. Diamond. She’d love it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Ready to Pop_. That was what each balloon in Clarke’s mom’s house said. Some of the balloons were pink, others white, and a few were even yellow, but they all said the same thing. Hanging above the sliding glass doors was banner that said _Oh Baby_ , and a poster that said _It’s a Girl!_ was taped to the counter.

“I’m so glad you decided to have your baby shower here,” her mom babbled as she put treats out on the kitchen table. Plate after plate of pink cookies, cupcakes, and Rice Krispy treats. “It really is the perfect place for it. And I want you to know that I did help. Raven planned everything, but I bought everything, and she came over last night and we decorated together.”

“Looks good,” Clarke remarked. What looked the best was the pile of presents in the living room. Some of the bags and boxes were small, but some of them weren’t.

“Is Raven gonna be Avery’s godmother?” Clarke’s mom asked and took out a tray full of frozen snacks. There were about a dozen small cups of what looked very much like strawberry pretzel salad on it.

“Probably,” Clarke said, impressed that her mom had done so much cooking. “Yeah, for godparents . . . probably her and Murphy.”

“Murphy?” Her mom laughed and made room for the pretzel salad on the table. “He’s a little irresponsible, don’t you think?”

“He’s a friend.”

“But he doesn’t even have a job.”

“He’s a YouTuber,” Clarke informed her.

Her mother scoffed at that. “That’s not a real job.”

“I hate to break it to you, but nowadays, it is.” And unlike so many other people his age, Murphy didn’t have student loans to pay off.

“Well . . . whatever,” her mom said, thankfully dropping it. “Speaking of jobs, though . . . I heard Bellamy lost his.”

Clarke momentarily froze, taken aback by the abrupt shift in the conversation. “Where’d you hear that from?” she asked, reluctant to confirm anything.

“Marcus,” her mom replied. “He works with kids who go to the high school. They told him Bellamy’s a janitor now. They’ve seen him working there.”

Well, the evidence was pretty substantial, it seemed, so there was no point in denying it. “Yeah,” she said, reminding herself that there was no need to deny it. So what if Bellamy was a janitor? He wouldn’t be one forever.

“What happened to his construction job?” her mom asked.

She wasn’t about to reveal that he’d been fired, though, so she simply said, “It just wasn’t working out,” and left it at that.

Instead of pushing for more answers, her mom pounced on the opportunity to suggest, “Well, it might be time to do a little more thinking about your own career then. What exactly do you plan to do for money?”

“I still work at the bar,” Clarke reminded her.

“Beyond that.”

She hadn’t done a whole lot of thinking beyond that. Her biggest priority right now was having her baby. “I don’t know, I was thinking I could start giving music lessons to kids,” she said. “You know, singing, guitar, piano. I’m good at all that stuff. And they could come to my house, so that’d be convenient with Avery.” She wasn’t sure how much she’d charge or how she’d get the word out, but it was an idea.

“I don’t suppose you’d reconsider going for your master’s, would you?” her mother asked.

“Mom . . .” Her friends were going to be over soon. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“I’m not saying you have to take on a full course-load,” her mom said. “Just a class or two, maybe. And it doesn’t have to be for med school. I mean, have you ever thought about being a biology teacher?”

“No,” Clarke answered bluntly. “And we’ve been through this. I need a break from college.”

“Well, then, what about applying at the hospital?” her mom asked. “We should have some openings this summer for nurses. And that doesn’t take anything more than a bachelor’s degree.”

Clarke sighed, and as her mom kept talking, she started to tune her out. She used to be really good at that.

****

_There were plenty of other things Clarke would have loved to be doing with her Saturday rather than attending a college fair. But there was a big one happening at a Baltimore high school, so her mom and dad had forced her to go. It was . . . overwhelming. So many booths and tables representing so many schools, mostly schools in Maryland, but a few from nearby states. And there were so many people._

_Her mom seemed in her element as she chatted with a recruiter from Loyola University Maryland. She asked a lot of questions, and he had answers for all of them, answers that seemed to make the smile on her mom’s face grow bigger and bigger._

_“So is it true that Loyola was ranked the top college in Maryland this year?” she asked._

_“It is,” the man confirmed. “And in addition to that, we’re ranked #5 for the region.”_

_“Because of your academics?”_

_“Oh, it’s a combination of everything,” he boasted. “Strong academics, a vast network of student support, a variety of housing and dining options, and of course, the financial success rate of our graduates. Not to mention, Baltimore is a fantastic city with so many career opportunities.”_

_“It certainly is,” Clarke’s father agreed. “I’d love to live here.”_

_“We live in a smaller town right now,” her mom said, “and it has Arkadia State College, but I really feel like Clarke would do better in a place like this where she could spread her wings.”_

_Clarke wondered how much truth there was to that, and how much her mom just wanted her to move away from Arkadia so she’d be even farther removed from Bellamy. Not that he’d be spending that much time there after he graduated._

_“And what do you plan to study, Clarke?” the recruiter asked her._

_Her mom didn’t hesitate to answer for her. “Oh, she’ll major in biology, just like I did. She’s wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. Isn’t that right?”_

Is it? _Clarke wondered. She hadn’t told her parents, but she’d talked to both her art teacher and choir teacher about . . . other pursuits. “It’s definitely an option,” she said, just to keep her mom happy._

_“Excellent,” the recruiter said, brimming with enthusiasm. “One of my roommates is a biology major. He loves all his classes and all his professors. And that’s another advantage that you’ll get at a liberal arts school like Loyola versus a traditional university. The smaller class sizes, more attention from faculty, and more emphasis on a discussion approach to teaching rather than a lecture style.”_

_By this point, her mom’s smile was so huge that she looked like she’d slept with a hanger in her mouth. “It sounds great,” she said._

_“It is,” the recruiter said. “If you’re interested in learning more, you can sign up for a visit.”_

_“Well, we are most definitely interested.”_

Are we now? _Clarke thought bitterly. The way her mom was talking was like they were_ all _going to college. But really, it was just her. There was no point in going to visit that campus unless_ she _was interested._

_She let her mom sign her up for a visit in June and didn’t argue, just because she didn’t want to create a scene. She already planned to go home, though, and look this place up online. If it didn’t look like her type of school, they weren’t going._

_“What do you think about that?” her mom bubbled excitedly as they roamed towards another table. “That place sounds like a good fit.”_

_“It’s a private school,” Clarke pointed out. “Tuition’s really expensive.”_

_Her mom had a response for that one. “I know, but we can afford it.”_

_“It’s also a Jesuit school,” Clarke said. “And we’re not Catholic.”_

_Her mom had a response for that one, too. “Well, you don’t have to be Catholic to go there. You heard what that man said. Only about half the students are Catholic.”_

_Clarke couldn’t think of any other barriers or reasons not to at least consider the option, so she mumbled, “It’s in Baltimore,” more to herself than to them. She had no desire to live in a big city like that._

_“We’re not making any decisions today, Clarke,” her father piped up. “We’re just exploring our options.”_

_“You know, most people wait until junior year to do this,” she said._

_“Well, we’re not most people,” her mom said. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with getting a head start.”_

_It was a pretty big head start. Clarke had thought about college, sure, but not in-depth. The school brought in speakers sometimes, and students could opt out of class to go see them, but mostly only the juniors and seniors did that._

_“Look over there,” her dad said, pointing to the far side of the room. “The Ivy League.”_

_Clarke felt an immediate sense of pressure as she glimpsed banners for the likes of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Brown. “Dad, I’m a good student, but I don’t know if I’m that good.” She hadn’t even taken the ACT yet. What if she didn’t end up with a competitive score?_

_“We should at least go check them out,” her dad said. And there was that word again:_ We.

_“You go ahead,” Clarke told them. “I have to go to the bathroom.”_

_“Okay,” her mom said, already veering towards the Princeton table. “Just meet us back over here then.”_

_Clarke slipped into the crowd, feeling like she could breathe a little easier once she got a little farther away from the Ivy League. That was just way too much pressure to start considering one of those places right now. She didn’t really need to find a restroom. She just needed . . . space._

_The farther back into the room she walked, the more space she found. Mostly because the out-of-state schools had been shoved back there, and not as many people in attendance were looking at those. She could walk without bumping into the person next to her, and she could actually hear herself think. And she started thinking about_ a lot _when she laid eyes on a small booth and table with one representative and no students standing in front of it. It wasn’t for one specific college, but it was for one specific state._

_Clarke walked up to the table, and the representative sprang to her feet, seemingly happy to have someone to talk to. “Hello there,” she chirped._

_“Hi.” Clarke picked up a book that said ‘Schools of the Sunshine State’ on the front and started to flip through it._

_“Thinking about going to Florida?” the representative asked her._

_She stopped flipping when she landed on a page for UCF and said, “Maybe.”_

****

“Clarke, are you even listening to me?”

Clarke jerked herself out of her thoughts and answered honestly. “No.” God, the one nice thing about being pregnant was not having to worry about censoring herself. “Look, Mom, it’s my baby shower today. Let’s just focus on that.” She grabbed a vanilla Oreo off one of the cookie plates, appreciating that it had been dipped in pink frosting.

“Okay,” her mom said. “I won’t intrude, I promise. I’ll just be a good host. Who’s all coming?”

“Raven, Harper, Octavia . . . a couple other friends,” Clarke answered. “It’s gonna be small.”

Her mom nodded and said, “Callie’s coming, too.”

“What?” Clarke whined. “Why?”

“Because she has a gift for you. Isn’t that nice?”

A real gift would have been just staying away, but Clarke wasn’t going to let that annoying woman’s presence ruin her day. In fact, perhaps there was a silver lining. Her mom and Callie could keep to themselves, and she could enjoy her time with her friends.

Raven was the first to show up, and Lexa came next. After that, it seemed like everyone arrived at once. Harper brought Maya with her, and Octavia showed up with her mom. Clarke was so glad to see Aurora. She knew how busy Aurora was and that it wasn’t easy for her to take time off of work, so it meant a lot that she’d taken the time off to be here.

Callie was the last to show up. Clarke didn’t even bother to say hi to her. But at least her hope had come true. Callie and her mom were much more interested in sitting in the kitchen and gabbing with each other than playing any of the games Raven had planned. The first game was a variation of pin the tail on the donkey in that it was pin the baby on the mommy. They took turns being blindfolded and sticking a cartoon cutout of a baby up onto a poster of a pregnant woman’s silhouette. To make it even harder, Raven spun everyone around first, everyone except Clarke, since she was dealing with enough dizziness as it was.

“A little to the left,” she heard Lexa say as she slowly walked towards the poster, clipart baby in hand, blindfold covering her eyes. Then Harper chimed in with, “A little to the right,” just to confuse her. Octavia’s, “Nope, up a little further,” was the final straw.

“Would you guys stop trying to screw me up?” Clarke said. She must have sounded a little more shrill than she’d intended to, because they all shut up and allowed her to pin the baby on the mommy without further interference.

“Wow!” Raven exclaimed. “I think you won, Clarke.”

“Did I?” She peeled off her blindfold and saw that she’d placed her baby closest to the stomach, about halfway on and halfway off of it. “Oh, look, I did.” She’d definitely gotten closer than anyone else.

“Congratulations!” Raven said. “You get . . .” She reached into her gift bag and, with dramatic flair, pulled out . . .

“A box of condoms?” Clarke said. Wasn’t it a little late for those?

“These are the prizes I’m giving out,” Raven said. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

“You should keep ‘em for yourself,” Clarke suggested. Once Avery was born, she and Bellamy wouldn’t even be _having_ sex for a while.

They proceeded to play a few more games, all of which involved guessing in some way. They snacked their way through a game where they guessed whose baby picture belonged to which guest. Raven had collected them all beforehand, so she knew the answers, but the rest of them didn’t. Maya’s was obvious, because she’d always had that dark hair. And Lexa’s was kind of obvious, too, because she was kissing her dolly in her picture. Always a fan of the girls. Aurora hadn’t brought a photo of herself, but she _did_ bring some baby pictures of Bellamy. He’d been so damn cute, even back then. She gave some of them to Clarke to keep, and Clarke knew she’d have fun showing them to Bellamy later. There was one where he had his little baby potty on his head, and another where he was wearing a little football jersey. So adorable.

The next game required Clarke to stand up, because all the girls cut pieces of string that they guessed would wrap around Clarke’s belly. Whoever had decided that pregnancy meant it was socially acceptable for people to put their hands on your belly at all times deserved some harsh punishment, because Clarke hated it. But she played along and let everyone wrap the string around her stomach and see how close they’d been. Some of them hadn’t cut enough string, and some had cut too much, but Aurora was the closest to being exact. She said she probably had an advantage since she’d been pregnant twice before and none of the rest of them had, and when Raven offered her condoms as her prize, she just gave them to her daughter instead.

The last game wasn’t so much a game as much as it was a prediction. Raven sent around calendar pages for the month of April and May and asked everyone to write their name in on the date they predicted the baby would be born. Harper’s guess was the earliest, as she predicted the baby would be born two weeks before the due date. And Octavia’s prediction was farthest away, as she wrote her name in a week after the due date. Clarke really didn’t want either one of them to be right. She wanted Maya to be right, because Maya was the only one who’d placed her name on the actual due date. Clarke had set that date in her mind months and months ago, so she wanted things to go according to plan.

In between all those games, they’d done their fair share of eating, so they were all pretty full when it came time to open up gifts. Clarke started with Callie’s, just because she didn’t care about it, but when she opened it . . . dammit, it was actually nice. It was one of those play mats that unfolded and became a little activity gym. There were things for the baby to roll around on and dangling toys to grab at. Clarke had seen them in the store, and the nicer ones like this weren’t cheap. So she sucked it up and thanked her mom’s best friend, because it was indeed a nice gift, and it would definitely get used.

Maya also went the toy route, but her toys were specifically bath toys, and they were adorable. There were lots of little animals that would float, plus some letters and numbers that would stick to the walls of the tub. The packaging said they were educational toys, so Clarke was all about it. And she knew Bellamy would be, too. He wanted their daughter to be a good reader.

Some of the gifts Clarke received were straight off her registry from Target, and she was so grateful for them. Octavia, who made sure to mention that her gift was also from Lincoln, got her a potty chair for the baby. And it was the one Bellamy had insisted they scan, the princess poop throne. Harper got her the baby bathtub shaped like a tulip, and just looking at it made Clarke get emotional, because she couldn’t help but imagine how cute Avery would look sitting in it. Lexa got her a lullaby machine that was a better variation of what she’d registered for. She didn’t have to use pre-recorded lullabies on this machine; she could record her own voice singing bedtime songs. And Raven got her a Baby Einstein walker explorer for the baby. Of course genius Raven would get her something with _Einstein_ in the title.

There were some smaller gifts from other people, acquaintances like Niylah and other girls who worked at Eligius, and even a few from people in the LGBTQ club. But not Anya. Those gifts were mostly clothes and toys and diapers, all of which would come in handy. There was a gift from her boss, too, and it was the only gift that wasn’t _for_ the baby. Diyoza had gotten her and Bellamy two identical shot glasses, one that said _#MomLife_ on it and one that said _#DadLife_.

By far, though, the nicest, most expensive gifts came from her parents, and Clarke had actually been banking on them. Her mom and Kane got her a lovely bassinet, and the best thing about it was that it could fold up and be portable. And the gift from her father and Alyssa was so big that it couldn’t even be wrapped. They’d gotten her a stroller, probably one of those strollers that cost over two-hundred dollars. Clarke called them right up and thanked them profusely, because that was probably what she and Bellamy had needed more than anything else.

But the most thoughtful gift came from Bellamy’s mom. It wasn’t one of the bigger ones, wasn’t one of the more expensive ones, but it was so sweet. A memory book. Sort of like a journal or scrapbook for her to fill out for this first year of Avery’s life. There were pages in there for every single day, but Aurora assured her that it didn’t matter if she missed a day, and that she didn’t have to fill it out at all if she didn’t want to. But Clarke wanted to. Now that she was almost done with her pregnancy, she actually regretted not filling out a pregnancy journal. At least they’d have Murphy’s film, though, and those weekly pictures Bellamy snapped of her ever-enlarging belly.

“I love it,” she told Aurora, smiling tearfully. “Thank you.” She hugged Bellamy’s mom, feeling very much like she was hugging a woman who was a second mom to her.

Getting all the gifts home wasn’t easy. She couldn’t do any heavy lifting, so Raven and Harper loaded everything up in their cars and brought it all over to her house for her. Luckily, Bellamy was home, so they could make him do all the unloading. Clarke was so tired after being the center of attention all day that she couldn’t even help him put anything away. Not even the small, lightweight items like the bath toys. She had to go upstairs and lie down.

When he finally came upstairs, he looked tired, too, but not as tired as he had when he’d gotten home from work the other night.

“Did you get everything put away?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think we’re set.”

“Especially since the boys came through with the car seat.” She’d been delighted to see that installed in the back of Bellamy’s car, rear-facing, just as it was supposed to be.

“Yep, the boys came through,” he agreed. “We probably need another one, though, for your car.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” she decided. Car seats, much like strollers, were expensive.

Bellamy sat down next to the side of the bed and placed his hand on her stomach. He was the _only_ person who could touch her tummy and not make her feel like she was some sideshow exhibit in a carnival. “She’s gonna be here really soon,” he said.

“I know. A couple more weeks. Thank God.”

“What,” he teased, “you won’t miss being pregnant?”

“No, I won’t.” She wouldn’t miss her swollen feet and her frequent bathroom breaks, nor would she miss the absolute struggle that it now was to put her shoes and socks on. She wouldn’t miss having to sleep one her side every night, and she wouldn’t miss the extra thirty-two pounds she was lugging around.

When Bellamy lifted up her shirt and leaned in to press a soft, tender kiss to her stomach, though, she realized she would really miss watching him do that.


	52. Chapter 52

_Chapter 52_

Bellamy left Mrs. Jansen’s classroom before the bell rang, noting his improvement in time. It helped to make things like a game, if he could. He wanted to try for a best time on every classroom that was assigned to him. Because he was starting to _really_ understand why Steve liked to work fast and get out of there.

When he walked out into the hall, he spotted a couple down by their lockers, down where Clarke’s locker used to be. The girl had her hair up in a high ponytail, like a cheerleader, and the guy just looked like a football player to him. He wondered if that was what he and Clarke used to look like, but since the two looked like they had cut out of class early to make out, he didn’t look in their direction for long.

Heading to the left, he was on his way to the next stop in his routine, the science lab, when he heard, “Hey, Bellamy!” from behind him.

Slowing to a stop, he turned around and saw the football player coming towards him with his girlfriend in tow. “Yeah?”

The kid smiled like they were old friends or something. “What’s up, man?”

_Who the hell is this?_ Bellamy thought, trying to place a name with the face.

“Oh, you probably don’t remember me. I’m Jamison Reed,” the kid introduced himself. “I’m the quarterback here. You used to help out at football camps when I was younger. In fact, I think you taught me how to throw a football.”

Football camps. Bellamy nodded, remembering those. “Oh, yeah.” He still didn’t remember this specific person, but it was true that he used to help out a lot of the elementary school boys who aspired to play quarterback someday. But apparently this was the lucky one who’d gotten the job. Or . . . was he really lucky? The football team had a pretty bad losing streak going, so . . .

“Man, I used to idolize you,” Jamison went on, like he was talking to a washed up celebrity or something. “We all did. All us kids . . . we wanted to be just like you.”

_And now here I am with a vacuum on my back_ , Bellamy thought, _and wearing a jumpsuit. Cleaning._

Jamison’s girlfriend was pretty forward when she confessed, “I used to have a crush on you.”

_Used to_. It was hard not to dwell on those words when these kids kept saying them. Everything was in the past tense. “That’s great,” he said, not really sure how else to respond.

It got worse, though, because Jamison gave him a curious look and asked, “Why are you working as a janitor now?”

“Yeah,” his girlfriend said, cocking her head to the side curiously, “weren’t you gonna try to play in the NFL?”

The NFL probably would have been a long shot, because he wasn’t big enough. But Bellamy knew everyone in this town had expected to see him excel after high school. Athletically, at least. “I wasn’t good enough,” he said, trying not to take their questions to heart. They were just immature kids who didn’t realize how rude they sounded. “Sorry, but I gotta get back to work,” he said, turning and walking away from them. If they never talked to him about his glory days in high school again, that was fine with him. But it did make him wonder how many other students in that school were staring at him, wondering what had happened. Wondering what had gone wrong.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spring was shaping up to be one hell of a nice season, and with the warm weather came the chance for more beach days. Clarke wasn’t up to doing anything more than sitting on the porch and watching as Bellamy played football with Murphy and Miller. Luckily, Raven sat with her, so she didn’t have to be alone.

“Hike!” Bellamy shouted. But when Murphy hiked the ball back way out of Bellamy’s reach, he yelled, “What the hell kind of hike is that?”

“I’m sorry!” Murphy said. “I wasn’t a football kid!”

Bellamy retrieved the ball, shaking his head frustratedly, and handed it back to Murphy. “Try it again.” They both got down in their crouch, and Miller resumed his stance to dart on down the field—or beach, more accurately—to catch the ball. They weren’t even playing against each other. They were just running plays.

“Bellamy’s having a youth flashback, isn’t he?” Raven remarked.

“Yeah. I think being up at the school now . . . it’s been making him reminisce.” He wasn’t talking about his new job a whole lot, but Clarke got the sense that people were recognizing him. Students, teachers, everyone. And they were all wondering how he’d ended up back there.

“I think about high school a lot,” Raven blurted.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

Clarke shrugged. “Not really.” She watched as Murphy did manage to hike the ball to Bellamy this time, and he threw it out to Miller for a complete pass. “Probably more since he’s been back.” She used to try her hardest _not_ to think about high school. Because it just brought back a lot of memories.

“I think about Zeke,” Raven revealed. “I wonder what he’s up to these days. And I think about the cheerleading squad and wonder what their practices are like these days. Do you think they still do conditioning?”

“Oh god, I hope not,” Clarke groaned. “I hated conditioning.”

“It helped get our jumps higher, though.” Raven smirked. “We had some good times, didn’t we? All those football games and pep rallies . . . those were all fun.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed. Part of her kind of wished she’d stuck with cheerleading her junior and senior year.

“Is that what you think about when you think back?” Raven asked.

“Sometimes.” Cheerleading had never meant as much to her as it had to Raven, though. It’d never been as important. “But mostly I just think about Bellamy.” She looked out onto the beach again, not surprised to see him taking his shirt off now, his sweaty torso glistening in the sun. A lot of things had changed since high school, but her attraction to him definitely wasn’t one of them.

****

_Clarke nearly dropped her lunch tray when a girl in her class named Jenny jumped in front of her. “Hey, Clarke,” she chirped. “Can I get a quote for the yearbook?”_

_Jenny scarcely thought about anything other than that damn yearbook, so Clarke probably should have seen this coming. “Sure.”_

_“Okay.” Jenny whipped out a notepad and looked like an old school reporter when she took a pencil out from behind her ear. “What do you think has been the best part of your sophomore year?”_

Easy, _Clarke thought, looking over to her lunch table, where Bellamy was already sitting with the rest of their friends. He was smiling and laughing, and he looked so damn good. But that probably wasn’t the type of answer Jenny was looking for. “Oh, um . . . getting third at state cheer, probably,” she said, figuring that would look better in the yearbook than her real answer: being with Bellamy Blake._

_“Great,” Jenny said as she jotted that down. “Thanks.” And it was onto the next person for her, just like that._

Third at state cheer? _Clarke thought. Whatever. It wasn’t a horrible quote to go in the yearbook, even if it wasn’t true. She carried her lunch tray over to the table and caught the tail end of the conversation. Miller was saying, “I don’t care if it doesn’t get the recognition football does. I love wrestling.”_

_“So you’re taking that scholarship?” Zeke asked._

_“Hell, yeah.”_

_Clarke sat down next to Bellamy, in the empty seat that everyone always saved for her. “Hey, Princess,” he said. He’d taken to calling her that ever since prom._

_“Hey,” she said. “What’re we talking about?”_

_“Miller got a wrestling scholarship to Arkadia State,” Bellamy informed her._

_“Oh, really? Congratulations.”_

_“Thanks,” Miller said._

_Raven bit into her carrot, making a loud crunching sound, then said, “It’s kind of cool that you guys are all playing sports in college. Look at us, Clarke. We’re surrounded by athletes.”_

_“Excuse me?” Monty piped up._

_“And brains,” Raven added with a smile._

_“And me,” Jasper mumbled, looking down at his tray, where most of his food sat untouched._

_“Hey, Jasper, what did I tell you?” Bellamy said. “You made it through freshman year. That’s the hardest.”_

_“I only made it through ‘cause of you,” Jasper said sadly. “What’s it gonna be like next year when you’re gone? I’m gonna go back to getting picked on. It’s gonna be awful.”_

_So Jasper was dreading Bellamy’s departure, too, then? Clarke was glad she wasn’t alone in that boat._

_“Hey, Clarke and I will still be here,” Raven pointed out._

_“And so will I,” Monty added, patting Jasper’s back._

_“Yeah, but . . .” Jasper’s jaw clenched, like he was trying to hold in how sad he really was, and shook his head. “It won’t be the same.” He got up, grabbed his tray, and marched off towards the trash can to dump the remainder of his food._

_“Should I go after him?” Bellamy asked._

_“No, he’s bumming,” Monty said. “Give him some space.”_

I know the feeling, Jasper, _Clarke thought. Staring down at her tray, she didn’t feel much like eating, either. And it wasn’t just because the cafeteria had decided to serve its infamous mystery meat. It was because she felt what Jasper was feeling, or at least a variation of it. She didn’t have to worry about being picked on next year without Bellamy around, but she_ did _worry about how her junior and senior years would compare to this one. It hadn’t all been smooth sailing, but her sophomore year had by far been the most exhilarating year of her life. What if everything else was kind of a letdown? What was she supposed to next year, just stand on the sidelines of those football games and try not to think about him? Go to prom with some other guy?_

_“You know what’s crazy?” Miller said. “This is our last Friday of high school. This is the last crappy school meatloaf I’ll ever eat.”_

_“Is that what it’s supposed to be?” Clarke whispered. It looked more like . . . stroganoff._

_“You guys are so lucky,” Raven said enviously. “We still have two weeks left after you leave, and it’s gonna take forever.”_

_“Hey, we earned it,” Miller claimed. “We’ve suffered through twelve years of this place.”_

_“Thirteen if you count kindergarten,” Zeke added._

_Miller grunted. “Fuck, might as well count preschool then.”_

_As those two began to reminisce about how much they missed the naptime that preschool had provided, Clarke spaced out a bit, and it wasn’t until Bellamy asked, “Hey, you okay?” that she returned to the conversation. Theirs was a separate conversation, though, because Raven and Monty were both listening to the other two guys._

_“Yeah,” she said. “It’s just hard to believe you guys are gonna be gone so soon.”_

_“I know,” Bellamy said. “But we still have the summer.” He leaned in and kissed her, and she hated that her first thought was,_ How many kisses do Bellamy and I have left? _She didn’t want to spend the remainder of her time with him counting down, thinking about the end, wondering if she’d really be able to let him go the way she’d always said she would._

****

Clarke hadn’t even realized there were tears in her eyes until Raven asked, “You alright?”

“What?” She jerked her head away from the football game and tried to blink the tears away as subtly as she could. “Oh, yeah. I just got something in my eye. I’ll be back.” She managed to get up and headed inside, leaving Raven out on the porch alone to watch the football plays the boys were still running. She didn’t mind reminiscing, but when it came to think back to high school . . . some memories made her smile. Others just hurt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy had been wary of taking his sister up on her offer to have dinner at her and Lincoln’s place, just because he and Lincoln still weren’t exactly . . . pals. But he had to admit, the food had been pretty damn good, and it was nice not to have to worry about cleaning up.

“We should do this more often,” Octavia said.

“Yeah, it’s been fun,” Lincoln agreed.

Clarke slumped back in her chair, holding her stomach, and groaned. “I don’t think I have any room for dessert.”

“What?” Octavia said. “How is that possible? You’re eating for two.”

“But the baby’s taking up so much room right now,” Clarke said. “It’s so hard to fit any food in there. I do better with small meals throughout the day.” She burped, said, “Excuse me,” and then said, “I have to go to the bathroom,” as she tried to get up. Didn’t have much success with that.

“Let me help you,” Bellamy said, getting to his feet.

“No, I got it,” she insisted. But again, she tried to get up and just couldn’t. “I don’t have it,” she whimpered. “Bellamy!”

He grabbed Clarke’s arms and heaved her up, not unaccustomed to having to help her out with walking and getting up lately. Clarke’s stomach was just in the way and made even the simplest things more difficult for her. She waddled into the bathroom on her own, though, and shut the door.

“I’ll get these in the dishwasher,” Lincoln said as he started to clear the table.

“Thanks, baby,” Octavia said. She remained sitting, and Bellamy sat back down with her, already preparing for another call for help. The toilet seat in this place was kind of low, or at least it’d always seemed that way to him. Chances were, Clarke would need his help getting up off of that, too.

“Your girlfriend seems miserable,” Octavia remarked.

“Yeah, I think, physically, it’s been pretty hard here at the end.” He felt bad for her; really, he did. But also . . . he was kind of glad that, as a guy, he’d never have to go through all of this.

“Well,” Octavia said, “you’ll be happy to know that seeing her go through pregnancy has really deterred me from having a kid.”

“Really?” She was right. He was happy to hear that.

“Not for all time, but for the time being.”

Music to his fucking ears. “That’s great.”

“I knew you’d think so,” she said. “Right, Lincoln?”

“What?” Lincoln asked from the kitchen.

“No babies for us for a while.”

Lincoln chuckled. “Let’s get you through college first.”

“Yes,” Bellamy said, encouraged. “I approve of this. Way to go, O.” As much as he hated that his little sister was no sexually active, at least she wasn’t being irresponsible.

“You know what I approve of?” Octavia said, changing the topic quickly. “You popping the question to Clarke. When’s that happening?”

“Oh . . .” He swirled the remainder of his wine around in the bottom of the glass, wishing he had a bit more to drink. “Hopefully soon.”

“How soon?” she pressed.

“Well, I got the ring paid off, but they messed up the engraving. It’s supposed to say _Princess_ , but it said _Priceless_.”

“Oh.” Octavia made a face. “Yeah, that doesn’t have the same effect.”

“So now I gotta wait while they fix that.” He wasn’t sure how long it was going to take, but he wasn’t expecting it tomorrow or anything. “It sucks, but we’re probably not gonna be able to get married before the baby’s born.”

“Well, that’s okay,” she said. “You can get married after.”

“Yeah, I know, but . . .” He trailed off, sighing. Then he lowered his voice, so that Lincoln couldn’t overhear, and told her, “I want Avery to be Avery Blake. From the minute she’s born. I want us to be a family.”

“You guys are a family,” Octavia assured him.

Yeah, he knew that. Because he _felt_ it. But feelings didn’t make it official in a court of law. “A legal family,” he clarified. Swallowing hard, he admitted, “Clarke’s not the only one who’s had nightmares during this pregnancy, you know.”

Octavia frowned. “What do you mean?”

He hadn’t gone over there tonight expecting to divulge anything, but now that they were talking . . . why not? He could open up to his sister. “Every once in a while, I have this dream where Finn swoops in and takes Avery,” he confessed. “Just right out of my arms.” He always awoke from it feeling panicked, breathing heavily, and it always took him a few minutes to calm back down again.

“Oh, Bellamy . . .” Octavia looked at him sympathetically but then shook her head. “I really don’t think you have to worry about that. If that guy wanted to be a father, he wouldn’t just sit back and let you do everything.”

“I guess.” That was what he always told himself, but in the back of his mind, he remembered how Finn had been loitering around outside the gender reveal party a couple months ago, and he thought about all the little run-ins Clarke had had with him where he asked about Avery or tried to give her a toy.

“You don’t have to marry Clarke just to be Avery’s father,” Octavia said.

“Well, I mean, that’s not the only reason I wanna marry her,” he said. That was on the list of reasons, sure, but it wasn’t at the top of the list.

“Right,” his sister said, smiling at him teasingly. “You’re kind of in love with her. You know, just a little bit.”

“A little bit, yeah.” He grinned, chuckled a little, and seconds later, he heard it. The inevitable call for help from the bathroom.

“Bellamy!” Clarke yelled. “I’m stuck on the toilet!”

Yep. Just as he’d predicted.

“Oh, this is some true love shit right here,” Octavia said.

“Yeah.” He got up and called back to her, in an over-the-top fashion, “Don’t worry, Princess! I got you!” And then he ran to the bathroom to rescue her.

They ended up leaving before the dessert, per Clarke’s request, but Octavia sent home some chocolate pie with them in case they got hungry later. He didn’t bother saying it, but Clarke probably would get hungry later. The increase in small meals meant that, if she wasn’t getting up in the middle of the night to pee, she was getting up so she could go downstairs and grab a snack. That pie would be gone by morning, no doubt about that.

Bellamy got into bed with her that night and tried to get as close to her as that fucking huge pregnancy pillow would allow. “You tired?” he asked, hoping the answer was a miraculous no.

“Always,” she said.

Well, that wasn’t surprising. It was to be expected. “You wanna have sex?” he asked. Even the sight of her stranded on the toilet tonight wasn’t enough to turn off his hormones.

“No,” she said, struggling to roll over onto her left side so she could face him. “Sorry, but I feel like I have a bowling ball stuck between my legs.”

“What? Is that normal?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I think so. The baby’s descending.”

“Already?” They still had a few more weeks to go.

“I know. Isn’t it awful what a long, drawn-out process this is?” she lamented. “Did you know that cats and dogs are only pregnant for, like, sixty-three days? How is that fair?”

Well, that was all relative, wasn’t it? Because cats and dogs couldn’t go to a hospital or get an epidural. “You don’t wanna be a cat,” he told her.

“I do,” she said. “Right now, I just wanna be a cat.”

“No, you don’t. Cats have to pop out one right after another. Dogs, too.”

“True.” Thinking about that immediately made her change her tune. “Oh god, that sounds horrible. I can’t even imagine multiples.”

Although he tried not to laugh at her pregnant misfortunes, sometimes he got a kick out of how she reacted to all these unusual symptoms. “You’re so cool, Clarke,” he told her.

“What?”

“Yeah. Being pregnant. Going through all this.” He put his hand on her side, marveling, “The female body is . . . pretty amazing. But then again, I’ve always thought so.”

“Me, too,” she said, managing to lighten up a bit as she wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “And your male body’s not too bad.”

“Thanks.” He’d never say it, but lifting her off the couch and off of chairs and off the toilet . . . it helped keep his muscles strong. Good workout.

Her eyes locked onto his, and her expression changed to a semi-flirty one as she said, “I wish I felt up to having sex with you right now.”

He wished so, too but he understood—as much as he could—why she didn’t. “That’s okay,” he said, sitting up. “I can take care of myself.” He tossed back the covers and was about to climb out of bed when she stopped him.

“No, just do it here.”

With his feet already on the floor, about to stand, he froze. “Here?” he echoed. “Right in front of you?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Entertain me.”

She wanted to watch him jack off? Well, that as new, but he sure as hell wasn’t opposed to it. “Okay,” he said, lying back down again. He pulled his underwear down far enough to release his cock and started stroking it to get it hard.

“Did you ever do this when we weren’t together?” she asked him.

“Oh, yeah.” It’d been a little harder to do back when he’d been in a dorm room with a roommate—he’d always had to wait until the guy was asleep or out—but even someone who had hooked up with as many girls as he had needed to do this from time to time.

Clarke wasn’t done, though. As she watched him touch himself, she inquired, “Did you think of me?” Her sweet, almost innocent tone stood out in stark contrast to what she was actually asking him about.

He snorted. “Obviously.” Once in a while he’d thought about some celebrities, too, but yeah, it’d mostly been Clarke. Every single time.

“Good,” she said. “I thought of you, too. In fact, don’t tell Lexa, but sometimes when she and I would . . . you know . . . I was thinking of you.”

He pumped himself a little harder, suddenly picturing her and Lexa and some dildos or strap-ons. As if that wasn’t a hot enough mental image on its own, now he knew that she’d been thinking about him while getting fucked like that. “Don’t tell any of my Italian girls,” he joked. “Or my Mexican girls. Or my Canadians.”

“Or your Californians, or your UCF girls.”

“Yeah, don’t tell any of them.” He shut his eyes for a moment, imagining that it was Clarke’s hand instead of his own. Or . . . other parts of her.

“What do you think about to get off?” she asked.

Once again, he opened his eyes, and he looked over at her, fixating on her lips. “You.”

She smiled. “Specifically?”

“Your mouth,” he said. “What you look like when you’re sucking my cock.” He remembered the first time she’d done it, back in his old bedroom. She’d been good at it back then, and she was even better now. He loved feeling like he was the one who’d taught her everything she knew.

“What else?” she kept on.

As much as he loved blowjobs, nothing compared to full-on sex. “How good it feels to be inside you,” he answered, noting that his voice was getting hoarser as he got closer to cumming.

Suddenly, Clarke’s expression changed to one of alarm, and she managed to sit up and touch her stomach. He stopped jerking off, thinking for a second that she was having one of those fake contractions. But when she said, “What if it doesn’t feel as good after I have the baby?” he realized there was nothing to be worried about.

“What?”

“Think about it,” she said. “I’m literally gonna be pushing a human being out of here. What if I’m, like, permanently loose afterwards?”

“Clarke, it’ll be fine,” he assured her.

“But what if it’s not?” she fretted. “Our sex life’s never gonna be the same.” She scooted to the foot of the bed and sort of slid off, heading into the bathroom and slamming the door. Personally, he didn’t think it was worth getting upset about, but when she got emotional about something, he’d learned it was best to just let her feel whatever she was feeling and work through it.

“I’ll just keep going!” he called into her, once again placing his hand on his cock. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened, and she peeked her head out, smiling slowly. Talk about a mood swing. But he was used to those, too, so he wasn’t surprised when she got back into bed with him to watch him finish up.


	53. Chapter 53

_Chapter 53_

Clarke had gotten used to being the last one out of the classroom. It just took her so much longer to get her things gathered up than anyone else. Simply leaning forward and bending down to zip her backpack was quite the chore.

As she trudged to the front of the classroom, struggling to carry a bag on her back and her belly on the front, professor Jaha smiled at her sympathetically and said, “How are you holding up at the end of the year, Clarke?”

“I’m alright,” she said, downplaying her discomfort since she knew it wasn’t something the average person wanted to hear about. “Um, did my academic advisor talk to you about me taking finals early?”

Jaha nodded. “Yes. We’ll set it up through the testing office. I won’t be there, but a proctor will.”

“Okay.” Clarke really hoped they could get it all set up soon, because she was ready to get them done and out of the way. “It’s just ‘cause . . . well, obviously, I’m pretty far along now, and I really don’t wanna give birth while I’m multiple choicing.”

Jaha laughed. “Some are true/false.”

“Good to know.” True/false were the worst. Some people thought they were easy because you had a fifty/fifty chance of getting them right, but that also meant you had a fifty/fifty chance of getting them wrong. “Thank you, sir,” she said, appreciative of the fact that all her professors had been so accommodating.

“Hang in there,” he told her, waving as she slowly walked out of the room.

“I will,” she said. “Bye.”

When she got outside, Clarke couldn’t even enjoy the nice weather, because she knew she had to walk a couple blocks to get back to the parking lot. And a couple blocks, with all the weight she was carrying, felt like a marathon. Bellamy had taken a lot of stuff out of her backpack these past couple weeks, leaving her with only the bare essentials to get through her classes; but even if that bag hadn’t had anything in it, she still would have gotten winded walking around that campus. And it wasn’t even a big campus. Not compared to . . . well, UCF, probably.

She’d only started down the steps—which she had to take very slowly since she couldn’t really see where she was stepping very well—when a loud, “Hey! You!” caught her attention. A thin girl with stringy blonde hair ran up to her and shoved a neon green flyer underneath her nose. “You should join us at our rally tomorrow night,” she said. “We wanna make sure more beautiful babies like yours are born into the world. You’d be a great spokesperson.”

Clarke noticed the words _Pro-life_ on the flyer and quickly thought of a way to let the girl down easy. “Oh, well, you see, I can barely stand for ten minutes without being in pain, so I don’t think I’m up for a rally,” she said, handing the flyer back. “Sorry.”

“Well, if you’re in the area . . .” the girl urged her.

“Sorry,” she said again, stepping around the girl. She spotted Miller a few feet away, smirking at her, apparently having seen the whole encounter.

“College activism,” he said. “Gotta love it.”

“Hey, Miller.” She didn’t actually love college activism at all. Some of it was important, but there were so many people who wanted to protest the simplest of things. It was the Age of Outrage, it seemed, as a couple of months ago, someone had actually approached her about coming to a rally protesting midterms.

“So are you gonna miss all this?” Miller asked as he walked with her. He put his hand underneath her backpack to lift it up and make it lighter on her.

“No, I think I’m ready to graduate,” she said. College had been good to her, and she had no real complaints. Except that she’d let her parents convince her to major in biology instead of art or music.

“Me, too,” Miller said. “Too bad it’s never gonna happen.”

“Oh, it will. You’ll graduate,” she assured him. “Cut yourself some slack. You were really busy those first couple years doing the whole student athlete thing.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and then I was busy doing the whole slacker thing.”

“Well . . .” At least he could be honest about that. “It takes a lot of people longer than four years.”

“Six and counting,” he said. “I’m not surprised you did it in four, though. You and Raven and Monty . . . you guys are geniuses.”

“No,” she denied. “I’m . . . academically-inclined at best.” Monty was super smart, and Raven had always been one of the smartest people she knew. She, on the other hand, was just good at school. There was a difference. And there were different types of intelligences, too. Miller was definitely street smart, just like Bellamy. And she and Harper were creative. But if anyone gave Raven a pen and paper and told her to draw, she’d have no idea where to start.

As Avery started to move, Clarke made a face, but she kept walking. Miller noticed it, though, because he asked her, “You okay?”

“Yeah. There’s just a lot of movement in here.”

Teasing, he said, “Are you gonna make it to graduation?”

“Let’s hope so.” First there were finals, then the commencement ceremony. Then the overwhelmingly daunting task of motherhood. Hopefully it all happened in that order, but she’d definitely be cutting it close.

Upon arriving home, since she felt prepared for all her upcoming exams, Clarke decided to not study and instead tried on her graduation robe. She’d dreamt last night that it didn’t fit, but when she slipped it over her head, all her fears were put to rest. It was one of those one-size-fits-all things, and since it was black, it was actually kind of slimming. The stole was a bright blue and had the Arkadia State logo on one side and the graduation year on the other. She also got to wear a medal around her neck since she was graduating with honors, and of course, no graduation regalia was complete without that hideous square hat. Despite what it would do to her hair, she put that on, too, and took a look at her reflection, a reflection that looked very different than the last time she’d donned a cap and gown.

Bellamy came to stand in the doorway, and she felt him smiling at her. “Look at you,” he said.

“Yeah. I look like a big black balloon,” she said. “I wonder what’s gonna get here first, the baby or the diploma.”

“We’ll see.” He walked into the bedroom and came to stand behind her, grinning at her through the mirror.

“Which side’s the tassel supposed to be on again?” she asked, blowing the hat’s tassel out of her face.

“Uh, the right, I think,” he said. “Until you graduate.”

She moved it over to the correct side and complained, “These are the ugliest hats.”

“You make it look good,” he told her, his hands settling on her sides as he moved in closer behind her.

“So be honest,” she said. “Are you dreading the thought of sitting through a graduation ceremony?”

He snorted. “Isn’t everybody?”

“Probably.” Nobody liked having to dress up and go sit somewhere for an hour or two, just to see one person walk across a stage in a matter of a minute.

“Nah, it’s alright,” he said. “I’ll sit through it. You sat through mine.”

Yeah, she had. And it’d been nice. But it hadn’t been easy.

****

_Finding a dress to wear to graduation had proven to be quite the challenge for Clarke. Most of her dresses were too fancy, more suitable for a ritzy charity function for the hospital or a school dance than a commencement. She’d gone shopping with the hopes of finding something casual but not too casual, but nothing had caught her eye. In the end, she’d reminded herself that this day wasn’t at all about her. Nobody was going to be looking at her when the senior class was on their way out. So she ended up wearing a long, pink dress from the back of her closet, took a straightener to her hair, and splashed on her typical makeup. Nothing spectacular._

_Since her parents had no interest in attending the ceremony, she went with Raven, who looked way cuter than she did, and who seemed much more chipper than she was. On the way there, she talked about how she was excited to see Zeke get his diploma, and how she couldn’t wait to go to his graduation party afterward. Clarke just nodded and said, “Yeah,” to all of that, but . . . she didn’t feel that same excitement._

_When they walked into the gym, Clarke was struck by how crowded it was. Their high school wasn’t huge, and neither was the graduating class. Sixty or seventy people, tops. Her own class was even smaller than that. But it seemed that everyone in Arkadia had shown up for this day. The bleachers on both sides of the gym had been pulled out, and there were large metal risers at half-court, all of which were rapidly filling up. There were also dozens of folding chairs set out on the gym floor, but they seemed to be reserved for families. And in front of those chairs was a large stage, with chairs for all the graduates and a podium for the speakers. Behind the stage was a projector screen, showing images of all members of the senior class from when they were younger. Babies, toddlers, kids. An appropriately sappy song played in the background, enough to make anyone feel at least a little choked up._

_“Pretty crowded,” Clarke remarked._

_“Yeah,” Raven agreed, leading them through throngs of people._

_“Are you gonna sit with Zeke’s family?” Clarke asked her._

_“No, I’ll sit with you,” Raven said. “Just in case you get emotional.”_

_“I’m not gonna get emotional,” Clarke decided. “This is a happy day. Bellamy’s probably relieved to finally be graduating. And he’s got college to look forward to, so . . . happy day.” Despite how many times she said that or even thought it, she just couldn’t really manage much of a smile._

_As they climbed up the bleachers, Raven said, “Next year, it’ll be_ my _happy day.”_

_“And then I’ll really be left alone,” Clarke muttered. She kind of understood what it felt like for poor Jasper seeing his idol graduate this year. It wasn’t fun feeling like everyone was leaving._

_“Oh, don’t be too sure,” Raven said, slinking past a few people so they could get to an empty spot in the bleachers. “With my financial situation, I’m probably just gonna end up going to Arkadia State. So I’ll still be around.”_

_They sat down, and Clarke didn’t say it, because it would sound_ really _selfish, but she hoped Raven would just go to Arkadia State. It wasn’t the Ivy League, but hell, it wasn’t a bad school. And if she stuck around, then Clarke wouldn’t have to lose a boyfriend_ and _a best friend all within such a short time span._

_She looked around some more, trying to locate Aurora and Octavia. She finally spotted them down in the family section. Octavia was talking to a boy sitting next to her and fiddling with the sleeves of her dress, and Aurora was just looking up at the projector screen, a small smile on her face. There was an older woman sitting next to her, grey hair and glasses, and Clarke wondered if that was Bellamy’s grandmother. And maybe the boy Octavia was talking to wasn’t a crush or anything like that. Maybe it was a cousin._

_Behind them sat a woman who looked very much like Bree. She looked young enough to be an older sister rather than a mother. The apple definitely didn’t fall far from the tree with that one, though, because Bree’s mom was dressed . . . kind of scantily. Not exactly appropriate for her daughter’s graduation. Zeke’s family, on the other hand, all cleaned up pretty well, and they were so massive that they took up several rows. Certainly not all the family members had gotten floor-level seats, so Clarke started scanning the bleachers on the other side of the gym for more familiar faces. She spotted Monty, sitting near the band, and waved at him. He’d probably tutored a good number of the people graduating today, but she knew he was mostly there for Bellamy. Beside him sat someone else who was there for Bellamy, but someone who looked a whole lot more sullen: Jasper._

I get it, Jasper, _Clarke thought, smiling at him sadly._ I totally get it.

_“Is that Miller?” Raven asked, pointing up to the projector screen._

_Clarke looked up at the picture of a little boy with one of his father’s ties dangling around his neck and said, “Yeah, I think so.” Some of these people had looked really different when they were young, but Miller’s face hadn’t changed a whole lot._

_“Aww, he was so cute,” Raven said as a few more pictures of him appeared. When it switched to her boyfriend, she recognized him right away and exclaimed, “Look, that’s Zeke!”_

_Zeke’s pictures were mostly school pictures over the years. He looked like a Gerber model baby in all of them. “He was cute, too,” Clarke said._

_“Still is.” Raven grinned. “Oh, come on now, baby Bellamy. That’s what we need to see.” They watched and waited for a few more minutes until the most adorable smiling face came up on screen. Bellamy didn’t look completely different, but he wasn’t as recognizable as Miller had been. The freckles were a dead giveaway, though. And appropriately enough, in the picture, he was holding a squishy football toy._

_“There he is!” Raven said. “Aww!”_

_Clarke recognized a few of the photos as coming right off of Aurora’s fridge. The silliest one was probably a picture of him with a bowl full of spaghetti over his head, but the sweetest was of a five year-old Bellamy holding his baby sister in his arms._

_“He’s actually kind of a softy,” Raven said._

_“Yeah, he loves his family,” Clarke said. Even though people like his grandmother and probably his aunt and uncle and their kids had shown up to support him today, Bellamy’s family was definitely small. Without a dad in the picture, it was really just him and his mom and his sister. He had a fierce love and loyalty to them, and they had the same for him. It was a bond Clarke really admired. Because even though one could argue that she and her parents were in a similar situation . . . it just didn’t feel the same. They loved each other, no doubt, but they just weren’t quite so closely-knit._

_About fifteen minutes later, five minutes after the ceremony had been set to begin, the video stopped playing, and everyone got quiet. Except for an annoying baby who decided that it was a good idea to cry all the way through the band’s rendition of “Pomp and Circumstance.” In fairness to the baby, the band didn’t sound very good, so it was just making the sounds everyone wished they could be making._

_“Here we go,” Raven said as the graduates started to file in from outside the gym._

Yep, here we go, _Clarke thought, catching sight of Bellamy almost right away. Since they were walking in alphabetically, he was part of the second duo in line. That also meant that he had to walk with Bree. Emma Anderson and Christine Andrews were the only two students in front of them. Bree, undoubtedly, was thrilled to get to walk with Bellamy. She was as much of a hot mess as she always was, as she’d hiked her graduation gown up to look like more of a short green dress. She also looked like she was wearing a bra with some_ major _padding._

_But Clarke didn’t really care about Bree. She cared about the guy walking arm in arm with her. Because that guy managed to make even the notoriously unattractive graduation attire look good. That guy smiled when his football teammates chanted his name as he walked by the risers. That guy just laughed and shook his head when a group of junior high girls squealed, “We love you, Bellamy!” And that guy had also glued something kind of funny to the top of his square hat._

_“Is that your prom princess tiara?” Raven asked._

_“Yeah.” Not every Arkadia graduate did something special with their hat, but it was somewhat of a tradition, so most did. Sometimes they put stickers for their college on top of it, or painted names or words. Bellamy hadn’t told her for sure that he was going to use her tiara for graduation, but when he’d asked her for it, she’d suspected as much. If he’d tried to put his own crowns on top of there, it would have been like the Leaning Tower of Pisa._

_Being at the beginning of the alphabet meant that Bellamy got to sit in the front row up on the stage. Once he’d taken his seat, Clarke paid little attention to the other students in the processional. She watched him, not surprised that he waved at his mom and his family. He joked around with Octavia by making faces at her, and when Bree leaned over and said something to him while the seats around them filled up, he rolled his eyes at her. There were a lot of facial expressions to keep up with. But when he scanned the crowd, Clarke knew he was looking for her. He found her pretty easily, and their eyes met, and he stopped making faces. He smiled, just slightly, and she smiled back at him shakily._

_Once all of the seniors were up on stage, the band stopped playing, and Principal Sydney stepped up to the microphone to welcome everyone and say her introduction. Clarke mainly spaced out on that and asked the person next to her to see her program. She’d neglected to get one on the way in, so she had no idea what the order was going to be or how long this was going to take. For such a small school, Arkadia had a huge program. It was multiple pages and felt more like a small book than anything else. The first pages were mostly boring, listing off all the speakers and honored guests, all the school board members and faculty in attendance, as well as highlighting all the class officers. Only after that were the actual names of the graduates in the program. Some of the names had symbols after them, and when Clarke looked at the key, she understood why Bellamy’s name didn’t come with any symbols: They were all symbols for academic achievement. Things like being in National Honor Society, maintaining a 4.0 GPA, and being a National Merit Scholar. There was no symbol for receiving an athletic scholarship._

_It took forever to find the actual schedule part of the program. By the time Clarke located it, Principal Sydney was already done with her opening address, and the guidance counselor was stepping up to the microphone. Apparently she’d been chosen as the special guest speaker for the day. Chosen by who, though, Clarke wondered. She didn’t even know the woman’s name. Then again, she wasn’t one of those kids who was in need of a lot of . . . guidance._

_The speakers continued after that, with Emma Anderson giving the salutatorian address and an_ uber- _smart kid named Justin Hanes giving the valedictorian speech. Emma’s was better than Justin’s, because his went on and on, but hers was short and to the point. Hers also ended with the class motto, which Clarke had spotted printed on the back of the program booklet: “Together, we have experienced life,” she said. “Separately, we will pursue our dreams. Forever, our memories will remain.”_

_Clarke clapped at the end of that speech, just like she clapped at the end of every speech. But that motto struck a bit of a chord. It was about the graduating class, and she knew it. But it also kind of felt like it could be about . . . her and Bellamy._

_For some reason, after the speeches, someone had decided that that was a good time to have two of the best singers in the high school choir sing “I Will Remember You” by Sarah McLachlan. That song got a lot of parents and family members in the audience to start to tear up, including Aurora. Clarke couldn’t look at Bellamy during that. She couldn’t really look at anyone, so she just stared down at her lap and tried to get through it. Beside her, Raven seemed to be doing a lot better. After the song came to an end, she clapped along with everyone else and said to Clarke, “That was beautiful.”_

And sad, _Clarke thought. Wasn’t Raven’s heart breaking at all? Or was she just that confident that she and Zeke would last? Did she just know and have this sense of certainty that what they had was forever?_

_Thankfully, the superintendent came up to the podium after that song and finally got the show on the road. He began announcing the graduates, and they walked up to the podium one at a time to receive their diplomas from the head of the school board._

_“Bree Barrett,” he said, and Bree’s mom let out a shrill holler as her daughter staggered up to the podium in high heels that were way too tall for her. “Bree plans to attend the college of hair design to become a cosmetologist.”_

_Raven grunted and muttered, “If she doesn’t get knocked up first.”_

_Clarke was barely even listening. She watched as Bellamy stood, before his name was even announced, and stretched._

_“Bellamy Blake.”_

_As he walked towards the podium, the cheering for him was loud, probably louder than it would be for anyone else. “Yeah, Bellamy!” his teammates shouted. Girls whistled. It was like a high school rock star was up there on the stage._

_“Bellamy will be attending the University of Central Florida on an athletic scholarship,” the superintendent read off his notes as Bellamy received his diploma and shook hands with the school board president. “He plans to play football there.”_

_“Woo!” Raven shouted. Her cheerleader voice managed to carry. But Clarke didn’t shout anything. Not because she wasn’t proud of him, because she was. Not that she wasn’t happy for him, either. Because she was. It was just that she was feeling a mix of emotions, not all of them positive._

_Instead of returning to his seat, Bellamy ran down off the stage to hug his mom. He handed his diploma to her and said something, but Clarke couldn’t make out what he’d said. Probably something like, “This is for you,” or maybe just “I love you.” Then he ran back up onto the stage and took his seat again. Bree tried to give his arm a squeeze, but he just shrugged her hand off._

_Once everyone had their diplomas, it was time for one more song, and just like the last one, it was emotional. One of the same singers sang this one, too, accompanied by an acoustic guitar played by the band teacher. It was that “Time of Your Life” song by Green Day, a staple of graduations everywhere with its lyrics about a fork in the road and time and memories. Clarke listened and lost herself in her own memories, thinking about how she’d had the time of her life this year. With Bellamy. Because of him. It was all because of him._

_At the end of the song, Principal Sydney once again returned to the microphone, and she gave a short closing address, then said, “Congratulations to the newest graduates of Arkadia High School!” The seniors all moved their tassels from the right side to the left side of their hats, then stood up and threw them into the air in celebration. The tiara stayed on Bellamy’s, and he caught it on the way back down._

_Raven nudged Clarke’s arm as the band once again began to play the graduation song and all the students filed back out in reverse alphabetical order this time. “Not gonna get emotional, huh?” she said._

_Clarke looked at her, having to blink tears from her eyes to see her clearly. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. But of course she had been. Because as much as she tried to tout today as a happy day . . . for her, it just wasn’t. It was a sad one._

_After the ceremony, Clarke parted ways with Raven so they could each go to their own boyfriend’s graduation party. Clarke rode with Bellamy, his mom, and Octavia back to his house, where it was being held. Some of the families with more money had rented out bigger spaces, but Aurora was playing double duty of host and proud mother. She’d put up decorations, including a big banner in the living room that said_ Congratulations! _On top of the fireplace was a shrine of various photos of Bellamy over the years, not unlike the ones that had been projected on the slideshow. And all of the food she was serving were Bellamy’s favorite foods._

_Since Bellamy was the focus of everyone’s attention, Clarke didn’t want to monopolize his time. She kind of hung out on her own while he talked to family members and played with younger cousins. He was the man of the hour, or_ hours, _more precisely, since Aurora seemed to have prepared enough food for the party to last a while. And it was good that she’d prepared food for more people than just the family, too, because it wasn’t just family who was there. Jasper and Monty showed up for about half an hour, and some other people from school did, too. Still, Clarke mainly kept to herself, just because it was easier to be on her own than to have to plaster on a smile and act like she wasn’t selfishly sad to see Bellamy moving on to this next chapter of his life._

_She was looking through an old photo album stocked full of_ lots _of pictures of Bellamy as a baby when his grandmother approached her and said, “Hi there.”_

_“Hi,” she said, shutting the book. She’d been a little too shy to introduce herself earlier, but the crowd had cleared out a bit now, and Bellamy’s grandma was probably wondering who this blonde girl was that had shown up with her grandson and hadn’t left this whole time._

_“Are you one of Bellamy’s friends?” the older woman asked._

_“Yeah.” She wasn’t sure whether she should introduce herself as his girlfriend or not. Now that his senior year had wound down, what if he stopped referring to her that way? “You must be his grandma,” she said, managing what felt like a convincingly chipper smile._

_“What gave it away, the grey hair or the wrinkles?”_

_Clarke laughed. “Oh, neither. You just look a lot like Aurora.”_

_“Well, I did once,” his grandma said, sighing wistfully. “It’s nice of you to be here today.”_

_“Yeah, well, Bellamy’s been . . . a really good friend this year,” she said._

_“And how did you two get to know each other?”_

_Oh, now_ that _was a question. “Uh . . . we . . .” She couldn’t very well tell her the truth, that they’d slept together on a whim and then just . . . kept sleeping together. So she quickly concocted a story about how they’d gotten to know each other through football and cheerleading, but luckily, she didn’t have to tell it, because Bellamy came up to them and put his arm around Clarke’s shoulders._

_“I see you met my girlfriend,” he said._

_“Girlfriend?” His grandmother’s eyebrows arched with intrigue. “Well, she left that part out.”_

_Clarke relaxed a bit, relieved that she still got to be his girlfriend for a little while longer. “I’m Clarke, by the way,” she said, extending her hand._

_“Nice to meet you.” His grandmother shook her hand, then said to him, “So pretty, Bellamy.”_

_“I know,” he said._

_“Let me guess: You’re a cheerleader.”_

_Clarke nodded. “Yeah, I am, actually.” Football player and cheerleader. They were just that much of a stereotype, weren’t they? Oh, well._

_“It’s a perfect match,” Bellamy’s grandma said. “Are you going to Florida, too?”_

I wish, _she thought. As crazy as it sounded, right now, she would have followed Bellamy down to Florida if she could have. She would have transferred to some high school there and left everything else behind. “No, I haven’t graduated,” she said, trying not to sound too sad about that fact._

_“She’s a sophomore, Grandma,” Bellamy informed her._

_“Oh, I see.” His grandmother nodded, smiled at her, and reiterated, “Well, it was nice meeting you.”_

_“Yeah, you, too,” Clarke said as she walked away. Turning towards Bellamy, she said, “She’s sweet.”_

_“Yeah. I don’t get to see her very much,” he said. “Honestly, a lot of the people here . . . family members I don’t even know.”_

_She understood the feeling. Family gatherings for her had always felt like more of a chore than a genuinely good time. “Well, it was still nice of them to come,” she said._

_“Yeah, I guess.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked down at her with undisguised lust in his eyes. “I kinda wish it was just us, though.”_

_She felt a tingle zip up her spine as she imagined what they would be doing if it was just the two of them._

_“What’re you doin’ tonight?” he asked her._

_“You mean after the party?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_As long as the party wrapped up long enough before her curfew, she had plenty of ideas of things she could do. “Congratulating you on this huge milestone in life,” she told him._

_“And how are you gonna do that?”_

_“You’ll see.” She smirked, feeling like a blow-job was in order. Among other things. They didn’t have to stay here. They could get in his truck and go for a drive, go someplace where they could be as loud as they wanted to._

_“Bellamy,” his mom called to him. “Come tell Uncle Dan about what dorm you’re staying in.”_

_Bellamy sighed heavily, removed his hands from Clarke’s waist, and said, “I’ll be back,” as he walked away from her._

_Clarke watched him go, feeling sort of . . . let down. Because it just sucked to have their flirting interrupted by anything. But it was almost symbolic, wasn’t it, that Bellamy would be taken away from her so that he could go talk to someone about college. About the next era of his life. An era that didn’t involve her._

****

Clarke felt Bellamy’s hands slip from her waist and watched in the mirror as he walked over to the bed and flopped down on her big, cushy pregnancy pillow.

“Do people give speeches at college graduations?” he asked.

She took off her hat and tried to rub away the red line that it had made on her forehead. “Yeah, of course.”

“Like a valedictorian and salutatorian?”

“Oh, no, not those kinds of speeches,” she said, removing both her honors medal and the blue stole as well. “But they have guest speakers. Usually alumni or one of the deans or something. It’s gonna be pretty boring.”

“Well, at least it’s not ‘til next month.” He picked up their old high school yearbook off the bedside table and asked, “Why’s this out?”

She spun around and said, “Oh, I was looking at it. Before you got home. Did you know that I’m gonna be the first girl in my class to have a kid? Out of all of them.”

“You had a small class, Clarke,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but still . . . I’m the first one.” She made a face. “Isn’t that weird?” She’d graduated as the salutatorian. Even now, she was still graduating with honors. Didn’t that mean she was more . . . responsible than the average person?

“It’s not that weird,” he said, flipping pages. “Half the girls in my class got knocked up straight outta high school. I think that’s why most of ‘em moved away. Couldn’t stand the stigma.”

She frowned. “Well, there shouldn’t be a stigma. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“No, there’s not,” he agreed. He flipped one more page and said, “Hey, look, there I am.” Pointing at another picture on another page, he added, “And there I am. That’s a good picture, even though I’m beardless.”

She laughed and went to sit down beside him. “You have the most pictures out of everyone in that yearbook,” she informed him.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. It lists all the pages everyone’s on in the back. Look at yours.”

Bellamy flipped to the back of the book, and his eyes widened when he saw all the page numbers next to his name. “Oh, shit.”

“Yep.” No one else even came close to being pictured as much as he was. Not only was he on the senior class pages and the football pages, but he was pictured at graduation, at homecoming, at prom, and in various candids throughout the year.

“Hey, you’re in here a lot, too,” he said, showing her her name.

“Mostly with you.” Her list wasn’t too shabby, but it wasn’t anywhere near as long as his was. “You should look at my eleventh grade yearbook; it’s an entirely different story.”

Although she’d meant that to come across as lighthearted, it made Bellamy close the book and give her a serious look. He hesitated before asking, “Were you sad that year?”

That year . . . that had just been a rough year. So rough that she hadn’t been able to find it in her to remain a cheerleader, even though Raven had begged her. So rough that she almost hadn’t even gone to prom. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I missed you.”

He gazed at her sadly, almost like he felt bad for leaving her. But he didn’t have any reason to feel bad. He’d done what was best for him at the time. “I missed you, too,” he said. “Do you think we would’ve made it if we’d stayed together?”

“With you at UCF?” She’d thought about it a lot over the years, dreamt up versions of their lives where they hadn’t spent so much time apart. “I guess we’ll never know.”

He set the yearbook aside, sad up, and cupped her cheek with his hand, stroking his thumb against her skin. “But we’re back together now,” he said quietly. “That’s all that matters.”

She looked down, pressing her cheek to his touch. It _was_ all that mattered. It had to be.


	54. Chapter 54

_Chapter 54_

Beard maintenance wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Bellamy was well aware that he let his go from time to time, but when the day of Clarke’s maternity photoshoot rolled around, he knew he had to trim it up a bit, just so he didn’t look like a lumberjack in every picture he was in. He utilized the downstairs bathroom, leaning as close to the mirror as he could to get the best look possible, and put his faith in his trusty trimmer, hoping and praying he didn’t hack off too much.

Murphy and Raven had come over right at the time they said they would, early in the morning, but neither he nor Clarke was ready. Raven headed upstairs to help Clarke, and Murphy stayed downstairs with Bellamy, lounging on the couch while Bellamy went through his process. And there _was_ a process, one that he’d had to develop the hard way back when he’d first started growing his facial hair out. Luckily, he was pretty good at it by now. But he still had to use scissors to attack some of the stragglers.

“So when are you gonna post that trailer?” he asked Murphy as he took what appeared to be the final snip.

“Probably in the next few days,” Murphy replied.

“You think people will like it?”

Murphy snorted. “They’d better. It’s the best editing I’ve ever done.”

“The trailer?” he asked. “Or the film?”

“Both,” Murphy said. “You’re gonna watch, right?”

“Yeah, maybe. That’ll probably be weird, though.” He took a step back and admired the masterpiece on his face. Yeah, he looked good.

“It is kinda weird, at first,” Murphy admitted. “It’s like hearing your voice on an answering machine. You’re like, ‘Shit, is that really how I sound?’ But you get used to it.”

Bellamy quickly cleaned up the bathroom, halfway thinking about Murphy’s documentary, halfway thinking about his beard, and when he emerged, Murphy exasperatedly said, “Finally. Took you long enough.”

“It looks more well-groomed, though, right?” he said, stroking his chin.

“Yeah, but who cares?” Murphy stood up, tilted his head back, and asked, “How do _I_ look?”

Bellamy made a face. “You’re asking me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Bellamy squinted at him in confusion and asked, “Did you forget you’re gonna be _behind_ the camera today?”

“I just want your opinion on _my_ beard,” Murphy said. “What do you think?”

Murphy’s facial hair was definitely still in a transition period, growing out to what would eventually be its full glory, and Bellamy didn’t want to discourage him from growing it out even further, so he remarked, “It’s gettin’ there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Miller and I might let you into the beard club.”

Murphy’s eyes widened in shock and delight. “There’s a beard club?”

“Yep. Meetings second Tuesday of every month.”

Murphy still believed him. “Seriously?”

“No.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped as he plopped back down on the couch again. “Really got my hopes up for a minute there.”

Bellamy laughed at his friend’s utter gullibility and sat down next to him. He was ready to go now. Murphy was ready to go. Now if only the girls could hurry it up.

Raven came downstairs a few seconds later and asked, “What’re you two wasting your time talking about now?”

“My facial hair,” Murphy answered proudly.

“Oh, god,” Raven groaned dramatically. She looked at Bellamy sternly and said, “I wish you would tell him to shave.”

“What do you mean? He looks rugged,” Bellamy said, feeling the need to defend his friend’s style choice. “Very manly.”

“Thank you, Bellamy,” Murphy said.

“He looks like a forest creature,” Raven argued.

“Hey!” Murphy yelped. “I must not look too bad. You stay with me.” He reached up and grabbed Raven’s wrists, pulling her down onto his lap.

“That’s because . . . you make me laugh,” she said. “ _Sometimes_.”

“Only sometimes?” He started to tickle her sides, and that got her giggling, squirming as she tried to get away from him.

From upstairs, Clarke called out, “Raven! I need you to come zip me into my dress!” and that was the end of Murphy’s tickling. He let her get up, and she started up the stairs.

“How much longer is this gonna take?” Bellamy asked her.

“Who knows?” she said. “You can’t rush art.”

Bellamy smiled, because as much as he would have liked to have gotten started with the photo shoot, he wanted Clarke to take all the time she needed to get ready. This was one of those days that was all about her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Self-esteem wasn’t on Clarke’s side as she looked at her reflection in her full length mirror. As far as maternity dresses went, the white gown Raven had put her in was at least somewhat flattering. It was long-sleeved, so it covered up some of the boob and underarm flab she felt like she had going on, and it was form-fitting enough to show off her belly but not so tight that she felt like she couldn’t breathe or move in it. It wasn’t super low-cut, so her chest wasn’t spilling out of it, but still . . . like many pregnant women, she looked in the mirror these days and had a lot of doubts about her appearance. Like, what if she just looked like a big snowman in all the photos? Or a marshmallow?

“Are you sure about this dress?” she asked Raven when she returned to the bedroom. “It looks a little wedding-ish.”

Raven smirked. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Turning to the side, Clarke surveyed her profile, since many shots would definitely be taken from that vantage point. “I’m not sure I can pull this off right now,” she fretted. “Wouldn’t a dark color be slimming?”

“Yeah, but dark’s depressing,” Raven said, coming to stand beside her. “This is . . . peaceful and angelic. And you look amazing.”

Clarke blushed at the compliment, deciding it was best to just take her best friend’s word for it. “If you say so,” she said, smoothing her hands over her stomach. In a few weeks, that’d be gone. Or . . . more like shrinking. She wouldn’t just have a belly; she’d have a baby. And it wasn’t just her and Bellamy that would dote on her. Her mom, Bellamy’s mom, and all their friends . . . they’d dote, too.

“Hey, Raven?” she said, turning to face her friend. “Bellamy and I talked about it, and . . . we really want you to be Avery’s godmother. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

Raven’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She and Octavia had really been the only options they’d entertained. “Do you want to?”

“Like you even need to ask!” Raven exclaimed, hugging her. “Oh my god, I’d be honored. Thank you, Clarke.”

“No, thank you.” Although she’d never had any doubts that Raven would accept this title, it was still nice to see her so excited about it. “Bellamy’s gonna ask Murphy about being the godfather at some point today.”

“Oh, he’s gonna love that,” Raven predicted.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Just the other night, he was talking about how he’s so glad he and Bellamy became friends this year, and how he’s never really had a best friend before. He’s gonna feel honored, too. Of course, he’ll never say that, ‘cause he’s Murphy, and you know he’s gotta sound snarky about everything.”

“Of course.” Clarke laughed a little. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think Bellamy’s really enjoying that bromance, too. Maybe you and Murphy should have a baby, and then Avery can have a best friend to play with.”

“No way,” Raven said adamantly. “Not yet.”

“What, you mean I haven’t sold you on the joys of pregnancy?” Clarke teased. “I mean, I’ve gotten to pay for a whole new wardrobe since I can’t fit into my clothes or my shoes anymore. And I’ve traded cramps and bleeding for unimaginable weight gain. Oh, _and_ I don’t have to waste time peeing and sneezing at different times these days, because now I can just pee when I sneeze.”

Raven cringed. “Does that really happen?”

“Yeah, it’s called peezing. It’s a real time-saver.” Clarke joked, but peezing was embarrassing as fuck, and she really hoped it stopped once she got the baby out. “No, for real . . . as ready as I am to _not_ be pregnant anymore, it’s also been . . . kind of incredible.” She’d never imagined that her body would go through so many changes, or that it even _could_.

“Well, I’ll experience it for myself,” Raven said. “In five to ten years.”

Clarke smiled at her, wondering if she would already go through a second pregnancy in that same amount of time. She didn’t exactly have a timeline in mind, but . . . Bellamy deserved to biologically father a child of his own someday. He _really_ deserved that.

It took about another hour and a half upstairs for Raven to do her makeup and her hair, but once that was done and she’d found a suitably comfy pair of sandals to wear, she was ready. She carefully made her way downstairs while Murphy crooned that “Kiss Me” song from the _She’s All That_ movie, and even though she snapped at him to shut up, Bellamy took the cue and did kiss her. He touched her hair, which Raven had managed to make look beachy and wavy despite its short length and cupped her cheek and told her she looked beautiful.

“Alright, enough of the mushy stuff,” Murphy said, ushering them out the back door. “Let’s get goin’. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

“Day’s just started,” Bellamy pointed out as they stepped out onto the back porch.

“Yeah, but this is the best light,” Murphy said. “Head on out there a ways.”

Bellamy took Clarke’s hand and led the way out onto the beach. Once again, he complimented her appearance when he told her, “You look so pretty.”

“Thanks.” When she’d looked at the final product of all of Raven’s efforts in the mirror, she had to admit that she was . . . pleased. The whole look had really come together well.

“I like that you went with white for the dress,” he remarked.

“Raven’s idea,” she said. “I like that you trimmed your beard.”

Grinning, he said, “Gotta look good for my girl.”

Had he ever looked bad? Not that she could recall.

They made their way far out onto the beach, and she kicked her sandals off and let her toes curl into the sand. Murphy directed them into a pose—Bellamy behind her, both of them with their hands on her stomach—and started clicking away with his camera. Raven stood behind him making faces, which caused Clarke to laugh a lot.

The ocean waves curled right up to their feet, as if to remind them of all the time they could have spent out there if things had just gone a little bit differently a few summers ago.

****

_The last day of school was a joke. So much of a joke that Clarke wasn’t even sure why any of them had bothered showing up. All final exams were done and in the gradebook. She’d maintained her 4.0, despite a_ slight _dip in her grades due to . . . distractions. She’d aced all her finals and had nothing left to do as a sophomore. Other than just sit there in her final class of the day and wait for the clock to tick down to 3:30. Waiting for the end of the school year was painstaking no matter what, but especially when the last class she had to endure was a geography class that was pointless even under normal circumstances. She’d only taken it to fulfill a social studies requirement._

_Even the teacher had checked out. With thirty minutes left to go, he started up a not so rousing game of hangman on the whiteboard. When someone guessed “E?” he smirked and said, “Nope. You kids are so predictable. You always go for the E.” He drew a circle for the head of the hangman victim and said, “Next?”_

_Only half the class was actually participating, and Clarke didn’t care to be part of that half. She had her sketchbook out and was doodling. Beside her, Jasper was doing the same, but his doodles weren’t quite as detailed. “Is there really any point in being here?” she wondered out loud to him._

_“No,” he said. “But I’m gonna stay. I heard they play ‘School’s Out’ by Alice Cooper over the sound system at the end of the day.”_

_“They don’t do that,” she informed him._

_“You sure?”_

_“Well, they didn’t do that last year.” It wasn’t a bad idea, though. Why not give the kids a suitable soundtrack for the day that signaled the start of their freedom? “So what’re you gonna do this summer?” she asked Jasper, wondering if she’d see much of him._

_“Probably a lot of video games, to be honest,” he replied without hesitation. “What about you?”_

_She didn’t have to think too long and hard about it, either. “Probably a lot of Bellamy.”_

_Jasper smirked and nodded. “When’s he leave?”_

_“End of July.” She really didn’t want to think about it. And judging by the sad expression that swept over Jasper’s face, he didn’t want to, either._

He understands, _Clarke thought. They were both happy for him, proud of him for getting a college scholarship, but they were both going to miss him so much. Jasper was losing a friend. She was losing . . . something more._

_As hangman continued on, Clarke continued to doodle. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a nonsensical design to keep her occupied for the rest of the class period, so her attention immediately diverted when she saw that she had a new text from Bellamy._ I’m here, _it read._

_She knew what that meant. He was already outside waiting for her. He’d done that almost every day since he’d graduated, come to her house and picked her up to drive her to school, come to school to pick her up and hang out for a while. Before her stupid curfew. Hopefully her mom would let her stay out a little later this summer._

Fifteen more minutes, _she texted back. The doodling was doing its job. She was staying occupied while time wound down, fighting off the urge to just leap to her feet and sprint out the door._

_Everyone was on the edge of their seats within the final minute. Their teacher had started a new round with a super easy word—it had to be Australia, because that was the last continent they’d studied—and seemed frustrated when someone guessed E again. “Really, people?” he huffed. “You’re not gonna guess this?” The bell mercifully rang, and everyone shot up from their seats and took off, Clarke among them. “Have a great summer,” their teacher called._

Oh, I will, _Clarke thought, determined to make this the best summer of her life. Even if it only could last until the end of July._

_Having cleaned out her locker yesterday, Clarke had no reason to even stop on her way out the door. She didn’t say goodbye to anyone, didn’t even apologize if she bumped into anyone. She felt like she just had to get out to the parking lot, like she had to make every second count._

_Bellamy was waiting just as he’d promised, leaning against his truck, hair blowing in the breeze. He looked like a modeling campaign, honestly, and her heart soared at the mere sight of him. She ran towards him, flung herself into his arms, and kissed him excitedly. No more school. No more seven and a half hours out of the day where they were separated. He’d been free for a couple weeks, and now so was she._

_“Let’s go,” he said, opening up the driver’s side door. She tossed her nearly empty backpack into the bed of the pickup and scurried around to the other side to get in. They weren’t the first vehicle out of the parking lot, but they were pretty close._

_Clarke wasn’t sure where they were going to go or what they were going to do, and that was part of the beauty of it. There was no plan. There was just the two of them, and time. Time to do what they wanted. Time to be together._

_They ended up going for a drive, out on one of the older highways that led out of town. There were barely any other cars, so it sort of felt like they were driving off into their own little world. Clarke rolled her window down all the way, leaned out with her arms outstretched, and exclaimed, “Woo!” The sun beamed down on her, and she just smiled as the wind messed up her hair. Bellamy kept his eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel, but whenever he looked over at her, he laughed._

_They drove long enough and far enough to be out of Arkadia, but Clarke wasn’t exactly sure where they ended up. And she didn’t really care. When Bellamy pulled off the road and shut the truck off, he leaned over to kiss her, and that was the end of all coherent thought. They ended up moving to the bed of his truck and making out there for a while, until Bellamy piled up some blankets and a jacket to make her more comfortable. She laid down and let him touch her, because it felt so good, and she didn’t really care if, occasionally, another car drove past. Nobody could see anything besides Bellamy on top of her anyway._

_They stayed out there for a long time, just the two of them. With it staying light out later these days, it really felt like time was working in their favor. Until Bellamy actually glanced at his phone and noticed that it was almost 9:00 already. Reluctantly, they drove back home, and though Clarke kept her window open, she didn’t lean out this time. Instead, she took her seatbelt off and leaned towards Bellamy, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, wishing she could just stay with him all night._

_The good thing about summer vacation was that the days were wide open. Her mom and dad had both suggested that she find a summer job, but she had no intention of doing that. Maybe next summer, but not this one. This summer, there was too much fun to be had. If it wasn’t a joyride out to the middle of nowhere, it was something silly like . . . mini-golfing. She never would have pictured Bellamy having fun on a mini-golf course, but that was where he took her several days into her summer break. He got competitive, of course, more so with himself than with her since she couldn’t get par to save her life. When he only golfed ten below par_ —only— _he said they had to play again so he could do better. And he did. Luckily, a couple days later, they went bowling, and she had better luck at that. He still beat her, but it wasn’t as much of a blowout as the mini-golf had been._

_When June rolled around, Bellamy surprised her with tickets to a concert. Apparently he’d gotten them online for a ridiculously cheap price and wanted to take her. She didn’t even know the band that was performing, but she knew she wanted to go with him anyway. It took a lot of convincing, but finally she managed to persuade her mom to relax the 10:00 curfew for just one night. She and Bellamy went to the concert, and even though it was outdoors, it was in a small space, so it was crowded. He kept hold of her hand the entire time, as if to keep track of her._

_And there were some days, especially rainy, dreary days, that they were content with mellowing out, too. Most of the time, that happened at his house, because even though Octavia was around and sometimes had friends of her own over, his place was still a lot more mellow than hers was. They tried out some cooking, and most recipes ended up being disasters. One even ended up being a food fight. They watched movies and cuddled together on the couch or in his bed. They took naps together. And of course they found plenty of time to . . . not nap._

_But on the days when the sun was shining its brightest, it just felt right to go back to the same stretch of beach they’d gone to back when they’d skipped school. It always seemed to be just the two of them out there, so their clothes rarely stayed on. They stripped down, swam around, and occasionally had sex right there in the ocean. And it felt so good. Bellamy would pick her up, and she’d wrap her legs and arms around him and hold onto him while the waves pushed against them. There was one time that the waves were so strong that Bellamy lost his footing completely and fell down, but that ended up working out fine, too. They just lay in the sand, first her on top of him, then him on top of her, hands all over each other, mouths all over each other, connected in_ every _single way while the water crept up and around and underneath them._

_It felt like paradise. It felt like nothing could go wrong._

_The downside, of course, to spending so much time at the beach, was that Clarke felt herself getting sunburnt. After a particularly long day out there, she headed back up to Bellamy’s truck with her towel serving as her only clothing. She’d get dressed in the car. “Do my shoulders look red to you?” she asked him._

_“A little,” he said as he inspected her shoulders._

_“Then I need to wear more sunscreen.”_

_“I’ll lather you up good tomorrow,” he said. “You wanna come back here or just use your pool?”_

_“Here,” she decided. “I like the beach better.” Plus, if they used her pool, there was always the chance that her mom would come home on a lunch break and see something inappropriate._

_“I like it, too,” he said, putting his arm around her._

_She winced, slipping out from underneath it, just because her skin was sensitive at the moment. “Well, if we’re gonna spend the whole summer here, I need a stronger SPF,” she said, “because I’m getting burnt. Pale person problems. I know you can’t relate.”_

_“Nope.” He went around to the driver’s side of the truck and started throwing some things into the backseat. A couple empty bottles, the kite they’d attempted to fly, and his own sandy, damp towel._

_“Blonde hair, blue eyes . . . it’s a crispy combination,” she said, checking her reflection in the window._

_“I’ll bet.” His phone rang out suddenly from where he’d left it on the dashboard, so he reached in, grabbed it, and answered, “Hello?” Clarke was still looking at her reflection, trying to pick the sand out of her hair when she heard him say, “Hey, Coach.”_

Coach? _She stiffened._

_A few seconds later, Bellamy said, “Oh, really?” and she couldn’t quite gather much from his tone. Not until he said, “Uh-huh.” And that wasn’t an excited_ uh-huh. _And that look on his face . . . it wasn’t the carefree look she’d grown so accustomed to seeing these past couple of weeks. He looked serious._

_“When?” he said. And as if that word wasn’t bad enough, then he said, “Already?”_

_Though she still didn’t know exactly what was being said, Clarke didn’t have a good feeling about it. Her stomach started to hurt, and it felt like a knot was forming in her throat._

_Bellamy looked down at the ground and mumbled, “Yeah, I understand.” Then, after a brief pause came a resigned, “Okay. Bye.” He lowered his phone and didn’t even look at her._

_As much as she didn’t even want to ask, Clarke forced the obvious question out of her mouth: “What was that about?”_

_His answer was pretty obvious, too. Because even though he didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. That sadness in his eyes when he raised his head to look at her again . . . that said it all._

_Summer was over._

****

Clarke hadn’t even realized she’d been losing her balance until she felt Bellamy’s hand on her back, holding her up. “You doin’ alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, blinking rapidly to try to clear her mind.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No.” She refocused on Murphy and his camera and took a few breaths to relax herself. It was hard to be on her feet for so long.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She smiled as Murphy continued to snap shot after shot, and eventually, Bellamy’s hands wound around her, ending up on top of her stomach once again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After getting hundreds of photos at the beach, Murphy suggested they move to another location, just to have some variety, so they got in his car and headed to the park. Well, one of three parks in town. The nicest one with the best scenery for a backdrop. There, he took a lot of individual photos of Clarke, and Bellamy stood back with Raven and watched.

“Look at her,” Raven said. “She looks perfect.”

“Always does.” He gazed at her, paying particular attention to her hands. She had a ring on her right hand today. But not her left. Not her left.

Raven leaned towards him, eyes still on Clarke, and asked, “Do you ever just stop and think to yourself, ‘Wow, that’s my girlfriend’?”

“Every day,” he replied.

“That’s sweet,” she said. “I wonder if Murphy thinks that about me.”

Bellamy cast a quick glance at Murphy, who’d been surprisingly professional all day. He kept the camera practically glued to his face as he moved forward to get more close-up shots of Clarke. “I’m sure he does,” Bellamy said. “In his own Murphy way.”

“Right,” Raven said. “Hey, did you ask him about being the godfather yet?”

“No, I’m gonna ask him when we’re done with all this,” Bellamy said. “I heard you said yes, though.”

“Of course,” Raven exclaimed. “I’m so excited. I’m gonna spoil her rotten.”

“Are you gonna try to get her into cheerleading?” he asked.

“Obviously. And mechanical engineering. We’re in the modern age, you know. Girls don’t just have to be girly girls or tomboys. They can be a mix.”

“Damn right,” he agreed. His little girl could be anything she wanted to be, and he’d support her. “What if Murphy tries to get her into YouTube, though?”

“You really think YouTube’s gonna last that long?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

“Hmm, we’ll see,” Raven said. “Although if you have your way, she’ll be playing football.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I bet she’ll be an artist, or a singer. Like her mom.”

“Probably,” Raven agreed. “Can you imagine them singing together?”

He hadn’t before, but he was now. And the image he conjured up made him smile.

“Alright, Bellamy, get in there,” Murphy said as he walked back towards them. “We’re gonna do some super cheesy shots.”

“Super cheesy, huh?” He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and went to Clarke’s side.

“Yeah,” Clarke said. “Like with you kissing my stomach and stuff.”

“Oh, I can do that.” He knelt down, put both hands on his stomach, and gave it a kiss. Murphy snapped a couple of pictures rapidly while he did so.

“So cute,” he heard Raven say.

He stayed down there, his hands still on her belly, and looked at it in awe as he felt Avery inside. “She’s movin’ around a lot right now,” he said.

“Yeah. She’s posing for the photo shoot,” Clarke said.

He laughed, looked up at her and smiled, and Murphy took photos of them in that moment, too. Bellamy gave her stomach another kiss, then groaned as he got to his feet. “Can we do some funny ones?” he asked.

Murphy shrugged. “Sure.”

“What do you wanna do?” Clarke asked him.

“Here, I saw this online.” He grabbed her hand and led her towards the trunk of a big oak tree positioning her behind it. “You stand here,” he instructed. “Keep your head hidden, but your stomach out.”

“Stomach’s always out,” she said, craning her head back.

He stood behind the tree with her, completely concealed from the camera, and said, “Alright, and I’m gonna peek around.” He stretched his neck forward, peering around the trunk of the tree, and asked Murphy, “Does it look like I’m the pregnant one now?”

Murphy laughed and started snapping pictures. “Yeah. Don’t move. Let me get a few more.”

He made a goofy facial expression, aiming for half-confused, half-shocked. When Murphy told him he’d gotten the shot, he ran back to him and said, “Let me see it.” Hopefully it looked like the online ones had, because they were funny as fuck. One look at the photo, and he started laughing. “Oh, Clarke, you gotta look at this.”

It took Clarke a little longer to walk over there than it’d taken him, but when she saw the photo, her reaction was a similar one of laughter. “Oh my god,” she said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re a much better-looking pregnant woman than I am,” he told her.

“Well, I would hope so.” She handed Murphy’s camera back to him and said, “Ooh, okay, I need to sit down. Been on my feet too long. Do you think we’re done?”

“Yeah, we got a lot,” Murphy said. “You guys are gonna love ‘em, I promise.”

They made their way towards a rickety old picnic table and Bellamy said, “Thanks for doing this, man,” as he sat down next to Clarke. Then he tacked on, “You’re gonna be a good godfather,” just to gauge Murphy’s reaction.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Murphy said. It took him a second to pick up on it, but when he did, he looked intrigued. “Wait, what?” He looked back and forth between the two of them, and then at Raven, who just nodded. “Sweet,” he said.

“We’re godparents, Murphy!” Raven exclaimed, squeezing his arm and leaning into him.

“Just so long as we’re not real parents yet, it’s fine by me,” he said, giving her a kiss.

_Mission accomplished_ , Bellamy thought, putting his arm around Clarke. He was glad both Raven and Murphy had agreed to it. But he had another mission, one that he needed to accomplish soon. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. And it involved one of Clarke’s parents. The nicer one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy made the drive to Baltimore the next day to see Jake. At first, he acted like he’d just been in the area, driving through, and he even showed him some pictures from the photo shoot yesterday. Eventually, they started talking about how the baby could come any day now, and that segued into a larger conversation about whether or not Bellamy felt ready. He did.

Bellamy hadn’t informed Jake in advance that he’d be stopping by, but Jake seemed to have a daily routine now that he wasn’t working as much anymore. In that huge house of his, not only did he have his own movie theater and indoor pool, but he also had a home gym. He asked Bellamy if it would be okay if he worked out while he was there, and Bellamy didn’t mind. While Jake ran on the treadmill, he kept talking to him, trying to find his moment to launch into the _real_ reason why he was there. He ended up telling him who they’d picked as godparents.

“Raven, huh?” Jake said, turning down the speed on the treadmill. “I always liked her. And what’s her boyfriend’s name?”

“Murphy,” Bellamy replied. “He’s a good guy.” Miller had been the only other name on the table, but it just made sense to let Raven and Murphy have the titles together.

“Well, that’s great, Bellamy,” Jake said. “Sounds like you guys are getting all your ducks in a row.”

“Yeah.” He reached into his pocket, feeling the ring, and mumbled, “All but one.”

Jake gave him a curious look, turned the treadmill off, and stepped down from it. “And which one’s that?” he asked, using a towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

_Here goes nothing_ , Bellamy thought. He’d found his moment. “The biggest one,” he said. “It’s actually the reason why I came to see you today. I need to talk to you about something.”

Jake was a smart guy and must have sensed where this was all going, but he simply said, “Okay. Go right ahead.”

Bellamy’s heart began to pound out of anxiety. He was about to ask this guy—this rich, powerful, high-status guy—for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Hopefully he didn’t get shot down. “Well, I know it’s pretty old-fashioned, but I really wanna do this the right way,” he said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and nervously, he started in. “Jake, you know I love your daughter. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. She means the world to me.”

Jake nodded slowly.

“I’ve never met anyone like her, and . . .” There was definitely a lump in the back of his throat, but he ignored it and blurted out, “I really wanna marry her.”

Jake’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t look surprised.

“I have the ring,” he said, reaching into his pocket again. He pulled it out this time so Jake could have a look at it. “But I haven’t asked her yet. I wanted to get your permission before I do.”

Jake took the ring from him and held it up in between two of his fingers. “Marriage is a big step,” he noted.

“I know. But I’m ready for it.” He wasn’t a kid anymore, and neither was Clarke. A lot of people tied the knot at their age, especially when they were going to be starting a family together.

“Is this something you and Clarke have talked about?” Jake asked, handing the ring back to him.

“Not really,” he admitted, pocketing it again, “but it’s obviously headed in that direction.” He didn’t question what Clarke’s answer to his proposal would be. Even though it would come as a surprise, in a way, it wouldn’t be surprising at all. “So is that something you’d approve of?” he asked her father. “Do I have your permission?”

Jake laughed lightly and said, “I don’t think you need my permission, Bellamy.”

True, he didn’t. He was proposing to Clarke no matter what. “Your blessing, then?” he asked. Maybe that was a better way to phrase it.

Jake looked him right in the eye, and slowly he smiled and nodded. “Yes,” he said, “you have that.”

Bellamy felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Really?”

“You sound so shocked.”

“Well . . .” He shrugged. “Considering how things started between me and Clarke in high school, I wasn’t sure.”

Jake looked away for a moment, then back at him. “That was a long time ago.”

“Right.” It was. And even though he’d had his ups and downs with the Griffin family back then, things were different now. Jake had been downright friendly to him these past couple of months. And Abby . . . she’d learned to tolerate him. “Alright, I’m gonna do it then,” he decided, feeling bold that he had the approval he’d never really needed, and the blessing he’d definitely wanted. “I’m gonna ask Clarke to marry me.”

“When?” Jake inquired.

The sooner the better, he figured. That baby wasn’t going to be in the womb forever. She was going to come out in a couple of weeks, and when she did, he wanted Blake to be her last name. “Tonight,” he answered, feeling a rush of excitement as he pictured himself getting down on one knee. Tonight, he was going to ask the love of his life to be with him forever.


	55. Chapter 55

_Chapter 55_

Clarke’s pencil broke right as she was on the last sentence of the last essay question of her last final exam. Right as she was pressing new lead out, the proctor announced, “Time’s up.” She quickly scribbled down enough words to finish her thought, not sure if it would even be legible, and then put her pencil down. It wasn’t a perfect essay response, but it would suffice.

She gathered up her things and made her way to the front of the room, setting her exam booklet down in front of the proctor. On her way out, he said to her, “Best of luck with . . . everything,” and motioned to her stomach.

“Thanks.” Being this pregnant hadn’t exactly made taking her finals easy. She’d lost valuable minutes of work time because of her frequent bathroom breaks, and all her aches and pains were distracting to say the least. But at least finals were done now, and she only had a few weeks of pregnancy left. Not that she expected caring for a newborn baby to be any easier.

When she stepped outside onto the sidewalk, she was surprised to see Bellamy darting across the street. “Hey, babe,” he said, bending down to kiss her cheek.

“Hey. What’re you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d swing by,” he answered, “see if you were done with your finals.”

“Well, I am.” She handed him her backpack, happy to have him carry it since she was carrying enough weight on her front. “Shouldn’t you be at work, though?”

“Oh, I took the day off,” he said, starting down the sidewalk with her. “I had . . . something I had to go do. But that means you’re free now, and I’m free. So we should do something.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like go out,” he said. “On a date.”

“A date?” she echoed. “What’s the occasion?

“Does there have to be one?”

There usually was. Either a romantic holiday or an anniversary of something or another. But this didn’t feel usual. “No,” she said, “I guess there doesn’t.”

“Great,” he said. “So where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know,” she said, feeling put on the spot. “This is your idea. You have anywhere in mind?” It wasn’t like they had a whole lot of options in Arkadia.

“What about the place we went on Valentine’s Day?” he suggested. “Big Italy or something?”

“Little Italy,” she corrected.

“Whatever. You wanna go there?”

“Uh, sure,” she replied. “Their food was good. You wanna go now or wait until dinner?”

“Let’s wait,” he said. “It’s more romantic that way.”

They stopped at the crosswalk, and she turned to him and teased, “Oh, so it’s a _romantic_ date now?”

“Clarke. Look who your boyfriend is,” he said, motioning to himself. “They’re all romantic.”

“Oh, yeah, right!” She gave his shoulder a playful shove and stepped down off the sidewalk when the crosswalk signal showed up. Although . . . he was kind of right. Bellamy knew how to make almost any night a night to remember.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Even though Clarke still felt very . . . heavy all over, she was determined to get dressed up for her spontaneous date night with Bellamy. She’d ordered a really cute maternity dress online, one she’d found simply by typing _sexy maternity dresses_ into Amazon. It was light pink and had an off the shoulder top that offered a lot of support for her boobs. It was form-fitting, but it actually fit her form pretty well, and she was excited for Bellamy to see her wearing it.

When she walked out of the bedroom, he was emerging from the nursery, shutting the door behind him. “What were you doing in there?” she asked him.

“Oh, just . . .” He trailed off without answering, and his eyes roamed all over her, as if they were soaking in what they saw. “You look sexy,” he said.

“If you say so.” Even though she felt pretty good in this dress, she still felt like a humpback whale.

“No, you really do,” he said, putting his hands on her sides. “I’m so in love with you right now.”

“Right now?”

“More like all the time,” he corrected himself. Leaning in, he gave her a big kiss, the kind that had the potential to escalate into more than that and likely would have had they not called and made a dinner reservation.

“You’re being, like, _extra_ romantic right now,” she said.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Not that I’m complaining. I’m just curious as to what’s spurring all this on.” First the suggestion that they go out on a date, now all this affection. It felt like Valentine’s Day all over again.

“Well, I’m just excited for you now that you’re done with finals,” he said. “Let’s just say it’s the start of summer.”

She shook her head. “It’s not, though.”

“Well, let’s just say it is,” he urged, taking one of her hands in his. “Come on.” He led her towards the stairs, and she smiled as she thought about everything this summer would entail. It’d be an adjustment, no doubt about that. Once Avery arrived, everything would revolve around her. But at least she didn’t have to do any of this alone. Bellamy was there, and unlike their last summer together, he didn’t have any reason to leave.

****

_Clarke sat outside on the tiny front porch of the Blake house, listening to the sounds of nighttime: a booming bass from some house down the street, the annoying whir of the cicada bugs that never shut up, and a couple’s argument across the street. She couldn’t hear any of the conversation Bellamy and his mom were having inside, and she didn’t need to. It wasn’t any of her business. She was only there because Bellamy hadn’t dropped her off at home after getting that phone call at the beach._

_The front door opened, and Clarke glanced up as light from inside flashed onto the porch. Octavia stepped outside and closed the door behind her. “Hey, Clarke,” she said softly._

_“Hey.” Clarke tried to smile at the younger girl, but . . . smiles weren’t really possible right now._

_“Are you gonna come in?” Octavia asked._

_She’d thought about it, but it just made more sense to stay out there for now. “Maybe later,” she said. It was a perfect night, not too hot and not too sticky, so she could sit out there a while longer. “I’m just gonna let your mom and your brother talk about things right now.”_

_Octavia sat down beside her on the porch steps and said, “They’re talking about UCF.”_

Yeah, _Clarke thought somberly,_ I know. _She wondered how much of the conversation Octavia had listened to or overheard. She was only in seventh grade, so college talks might have been something she tuned out of. But then again, she and Bellamy were so close, so maybe she’d been paying attention._

_Octavia reached forward and picked a stick up off the ground, using it to pretend doodle on the sidewalk before she snapped in half. “I don’t want Bellamy to leave early,” she mumbled, throwing one half of the stick out into the front lawn. “I want him to stay for the summer.”_

_So she had been listening then. And she wasn’t happy about it, either. “I know,” Clarke empathized. “But he has to do what he has to do.” That was what she’d kept telling herself during the ride home from the beach, that he had to do what he had to do. Whatever was best for him._

_Octavia looked at her curiously and asked, “Are you gonna miss him?”_

_“Yeah,” she replied without hesitation. Of course she was going to miss him. Every single day._

_“So am I,” Octavia said. She sniffled, and Clarke noticed her blink back tears. But she didn’t cry. Instead, she kept on with her questions. “Are you gonna find a new boyfriend?”_

_Right now, she couldn’t even contemplate being with anyone else, so she muttered, “I don’t know.”_

_What Octavia said next wasn’t exactly comforting: “He’ll probably find a new girlfriend. Bellamy always has a girlfriend.”_

Great, _Clarke thought. What did that mean then? He was going to go to college and find Bree 2.0? Or what if he found the opposite, someone_ really _amazing? Florida girls were beautiful and tan, because they hung out at the beach all the time. Or at least that was how she pictured them. She knew she couldn’t expect him to just never hook up with anyone, especially when he was bound to have offers._

_“But you’re the one he’s dated the longest,” Octavia kept on. “I think he really likes you.”_

_It definitely had amounted to more than Clarke had ever expected. What had started out as a simple mission to lose her virginity had evolved into a real relationship, one that had lasted for nine months. And it wasn’t so easy to give up now. “Well . . . I really like him, too,” she said, struggling to get the words out._

_Octavia waited a moment, then cocked her head to the side and brazenly inquired, “Do you love him?”_

_Clarke was so caught off guard by the question that she couldn’t even answer. No one had ever asked her that before. Not her mom, not her dad, not even Raven. So she’d managed to avoid asking herself._

_Thankfully, the front door opened again, and this time, Bellamy stood in the doorframe. “O, can you give me a minute with Clarke?” he asked._

_“Sure,” Octavia said, getting to her feet. She slid past her brother and went back into the house. Bellamy shut the door, sat down beside her, and sighed heavily. He wasn’t the same guy who’d shown up at her house that morning with beach towels in his backseat. Now, he just looked kind of down._

_They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before she decided to give him the easy way out. “You don’t have to say anything,” she told him, standing up. She took a few steps away from the porch, keeping her back to him so he couldn’t see the tear that slipped from one of her eyes._

_“Clarke, I’m sorry,” he said apologetically._

_Shaking her head, she tried to subtly wipe the tear away. “No, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” she assured him. “If your coach wants you in Florida early, then that’s where you’ve gotta be.” Logically, she understood, but still . . . it sucked. It sucked so bad. It wasn’t even close to being the end of July yet, and already, they were being torn apart._

_“It’s just that the guy they’ve got starting got injured in the spring game,” he said. “They might need me to start; they might not. But either way, I gotta be ready. So I gotta go put in the extra practice.”_

_“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand,” she assured him. College football seemed to be a pretty all-consuming thing for the athletes and coaches alike, so in a way, none of this came as a surprise to her. It was just so sudden, though, and if she and Octavia were saddened by it, then Aurora had to be, too._

_Turning around, convinced that she had her emotions sufficiently in check now, Clarke asked him, “What’d your mom say?”_

_He sighed, still sitting all slumped over on the porch, looking down at his feet. “She understands, too,” he said. The way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard made her think that he and his mom had just had a pretty emotional conversation about all of this. “It’s the life of a college athlete, you know?” he said. “Breaks are short, and you don’t have a whole hell of a lot of ‘em. It’s what I signed up for.”_

_“I know,” she said. “I’ve always known. It was always gonna come down to this.” He’d never promised her a lifelong relationship. He’d told her that he could give her now, and she’d accepted that. Because it’d been better to have now than nothing. But the now was now ending, and she had no idea where that left her. How was she supposed to date anyone else after this? What if she never truly even fell for anyone else again?_

_He lifted his head, looking her right in the eye, and his voice wavered as he said, “I don’t wanna leave you.”_

So don’t, _she thought selfishly. But that wasn’t possible. He had a scholarship to keep, a career to pursue. She couldn’t hold him back from that. “When do you have to go?” she asked, afraid of the answer._

_“Soon,” he said._

_“What, like, next week?” She waited for him to respond, and when he didn’t, her stomach started to knot up. “Sooner?” Did they really not even have seven days left together now? Was it really all gonna end that fast? As fast as it had started? “How much time do we have, Bellamy?” she asked him._

_“Not much.” He stood up, came to stand in front of her, and put his hands on her waist. “I’m leaving Saturday morning.”_

_“Saturday—S-Saturday morning?” she stammered, her eyes immediately welling up. “No, that’s—that’s not enough time. That’s too soon.” This was already Thursday night._

_“I have to,” he said. “I have no choice. They’re paying for my flight.”_

_“But how are we supposed to . . .” She couldn’t help but cry, openly and right there in front of him. Selfish as it may have been, she couldn’t pretend to be happy for him or excited, not when she was this devastated. “We were supposed to have seven more weeks, so how are we supposed to cram all of that into one day?”_

_“Clarke . . .” He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away some of her tears._

_“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t mean to be like this.”_

_“It’s okay,” he said comfortingly. “My mom cried, too. And O . . . she’ll probably cry.”_

_Clarke sniffed loudly, pretty sure that Octavia had gone to her room and was already crying. “She loves you,” she said._

_“I love her.”_

Because you’re family, _she thought, suddenly feeling like she was robbing Bellamy of time with his family. She was just his girlfriend. She didn’t deserve to be hogging him. “Then you should be with her. And your mom,” she said. “Spend time with them. Don’t even worry about me. You can just swing by on your way to the airport.” She took a few steps to the side, but he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back._

_“No, Clarke, I’m not . . . I’m not just gonna swing by,” he said, moving in close to her again. “Look, tomorrow, I’m gonna go say goodbye to my friends, and I’ll spend some time with my mom and Octavia. But I wanna be with you.”_

Why? _she wondered. They were supposed to be over now._

_His voice was low and insistent when he said, “Spend the night with me tomorrow night.”_

_She would have loved to, but . . . “I can’t,” she said. “My stupid curfew . . .”_

_“It doesn’t matter.” His eyes bore into hers, so full of passion, and he said it again: “Spend the night with me.”_

_Her heart pounded, and she felt breathless as he gazed at her, his face hovering mere inches from her own. He was right. Her curfew didn’t matter. One last night with Bellamy was so much more important than any trouble she got into._

****

Clarke thanked Bellamy as he helped her into the car and shut the door for her. He reminded her so much of his high school self as he ran around the front of it to hop into the driver’s seat, smiling from ear to ear. He used to get that same look on his face when they went for a joyride or went to the beach.

“We’re gonna have a great night,” he predicted, starting the car up. And she didn’t doubt that. Every night she got to spend with Bellamy was good.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy was so nervous, he didn’t even feel like eating. But he ordered something anyway, just to keep up the charade that this was a completely normal date night. Except it wasn’t. He had a ring in his pocket and a half-written proposal running through his mind. He didn’t want to think about it too hard, because he wanted it to sound like it was coming from the heart rather than something he’d rehearsed.

“Do you really not want your breadsticks?” Clarke asked as she chowed down on the last of hers. Had she eaten three? Or four?

“No. I gotta save room for the lasagna,” he said, patting his stomach.

“Then can I have them?” she questioned.

He gave her a look. “Do you even have to ask?”

“No. Just thought I’d be polite.” She removed his breadsticks from the basket and set them down atop her plate. “Mmm, you know what I’ve been wondering?” she said while she continued to eat. “When I’m not pregnant anymore, is my appetite just totally gonna drop off?”

“Who knows?” He tried not to fixate too hard on her barren left ring finger and instead be present in the conversation with her.

“And will I ever like tacos again,” she wondered, “or are they just ruined for me now?”

“Let’s hope not.” He wasn’t sure how he wanted to go about this. Maybe he could ask the waiter to hide the ring in her meal? But what if she didn’t find it and ate it instead? And it was a nice ring. He didn’t want it getting all messy. No, that was a dumb idea.

“And what about all my weird cravings?” she rambled on. “Like, am I really gonna enjoy a doughnut with mustard after all of this?”

“A . . .” That revelation jerked him out of his proposal thoughts. “You ate a doughnut with mustard?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Because it sounded good at the time.”

He scrunched his face up in disgust. Just the thought of it . . .

“Don’t judge me, okay?” she said. “You don’t know what this is like.”

“No,” he admitted, although he liked to hope that doughnuts and mustard wouldn’t be a regular food combo for her after her pregnancy was over. “Although I feel like I’ve lived through it with you.”

“Well . . .” She wiped her hands off on her napkin as she finished the rest of that breadstick. “‘cause you pretty much have. You were the first person I told.”

“Right after we had sex,” he recalled. That’d been one hell of bombshell to wake up to.

“Probably not the best timing,” she acknowledged.

“No, I’m glad you told me first.” In a weird way, this baby, one that he’d had no part in making, had helped bring the two of them back together.

“I’m glad you kept on loving me,” she said, smiling softly at him.

“I’m never gonna stop,” he said, feeling the weight of the ring in his pocket. This was it. Now was the perfect time. Except that she already had her next breadstick in her hand, and the servers appeared to be gearing up to sing happy birthday to a little boy at a table on the other side of the room.

“What?” Clarke asked.

“Huh?”

“You’re looking at me weird.”

Was he? Dammit, he hadn’t meant to. But he was sort of somewhere else, up in his own mind, weighing his options. He either proposed here, or he went with Plan B. Which was, quite possibly, a hell of a lot better than Plan A.

“I’ll be back,” he blurted, getting up. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

She snorted and grumbled, “Welcome to my world,” as he left the table.

Of course, he didn’t have to go to the bathroom at all. At least not to take a piss. But he did need a quiet, secluded place to make a phone call.

“Come on, pick up,” he said after quickly dialing a number he knew by heart.

Finally, after the fourth ring, Octavia answered with, “What’s up, loser?”

“What’s up?” he echoed. “What’s up is that I’m proposing to Clarke tonight, and I don’t know how to do it.”

“Tonight?” his sister exclaimed. “You’re doing it tonight?”

“Trying to.” So far, it wasn’t going so well, though. The date wasn’t bad by any means, but Little Italy was not exactly the same romantic venue it’d been on Valentine’s Day. There were a lot more kids and families there—not that he had anything against kids since, hell, he was about to have one. It just wasn’t the right place.

“Finally!” Octavia said exaggeratedly. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

“Well, we’re out a restaurant right now. I was thinking I could propose to her here, but . . .”

“Meh,” Octavia cut in. “Kinda boring.”

“Well, I got another idea, too.”

“And what’s that?”

He realized it wasn’t going to sound very exciting when he told her, but he really did feel like his backup plan was best. “I’d propose to her at home.”

“Also kinda boring,” Octavia declared.

“No, I got something . . . sentimental set up,” he assured her.

“Sentimental?”

“Meaningful.” Maybe that was the better word. Honestly . . . it was cute. He’d set up something _cute_ for her.

“Go with that one then,” she suggested.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I don’t even have to know the specifics to know that it’s better than proposing to her in a restaurant.”

Yeah, he’d pretty much figured, but it was nice to have a girl’s reassurance. “Okay. Thanks, O.”

“You got this, big brother,” she said, as if to pump him up before ending the call.

He stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes, just to talk himself up and simultaneously calm himself down. The nerves he felt had nothing to do with uncertainty. It was just . . . it was a huge thing for any guy to do in his life. And he had one shot at it.

When he went back out to the table, he saw that their food had already been served, and Clarke was in the midst of devouring it. “I ordered more breadsticks,” she told him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine.” Instead of sitting back down, he went around to her side of the table and knelt down beside her, _not_ in a proposal stance, but low enough to be eye level with her. “You wanna just take our food home, though?”

“What?” She was already twisting her spaghetti around her fork.

“Yeah. Let’s just have ‘em box it up for us and get outta here,” he suggested.

“But you asked me out on a date tonight,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he said, putting his hand on the back of her chair. “But now I wanna take you home.”

A slow grin crept to her face, and she set her fork down. “Bellamy Blake. Do you have naughty thoughts going through your head?”

He had thoughts, for sure. Just not exactly naughty ones. “Something like that.”

She smiled at him, and he could practically see the naughty thoughts starting to run through her mind. She may have still felt like she had a bowling ball in between her legs, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still horny. “Excuse me, sir?” she called to their waiter, waving him over. “We need boxes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_This is it_ , Bellamy thought as he and Clarke walked through the front door. _We’re gonna get engaged_. He balanced their boxes of food in one hand and reached into his pocket to check for the ring with the other. Yep, still there. Just waiting to slide onto her finger.

“Alright, put that stuff in the fridge and get me undressed,” Clarke said eagerly, stepping out of her shoes.

He opened the fridge and put their food inside, but he went up to her and stopped her as she reached behind her back and tried to pull down on her zipper. “Not so fast,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

The sex could definitely happen . . . _after_ the proposal. “I want you to see something first. Come on.” He took her hand in his and led her towards the stairs.

“You are being so weird today,” she said as she followed him up.

“I know. Bear with me.” It’d all make sense to her soon.

She groaned impatiently when they got upstairs and said, “Shouldn’t we be on our way to Pound Town by now?”

“Later. I promise.” He stopped in front of the door to the nursery and said, “I gotta show you something.”

“What?”

“It’s in here.” He opened the door and motioned for her to head inside.

“Okay,” she said, stepping into the center of the room. She looked around, probably trying to spot something new or something out place, and asked, “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Look in the crib,” he told her.

She made her way over to the crib and peered down, gasping in delight when she saw the stuffed animal he’d set out in there. “Aww, how cute!” she exclaimed. “Look at that.” She picked up the purple bunny, which was now wearing a green Rockets jersey, and recalled, “Didn’t you win this for me at the carnival?”

“Yeah.” He was pretty sure they could count that as their daughter’s first toy. “You think that jersey would fit Avery?” he asked.

“Probably,” she said. “Depends how big she is.”

He smirked, loving that she still had no idea what this was all leading up to, that it would be a surprise. “Look at the back,” he urged.

She turned the bunny around and read the name on the back of the jersey. “Blake. That’s really cute. She’ll look adorable in this.”

_Avery Blake_ , he thought, reaching into his pocket. _Clarke Blake_. He took out the ring, spun it around between his two fingers while she was still sufficiently distracted by the stuffed animal. Her back was mostly to him, so he went ahead and got down on one knee, holding the ring up for her.

“So cute,” she said again. “So is this what you wanted me to . . .” She spun around, stopping abruptly when she saw what stance he was in. Her eyes widened, and she just froze. “See,” she whispered to finish her sentence. A few stunned, silent seconds later, she asked, “What’re you doing?”

“What do you think?” He laughed a little, because it couldn’t have been any more obvious. “Clarke . . .” he said, staring up at her in amazement. Didn’t matter if she was tiny enough to fit into a cheerleading skirt or thirty-seven weeks pregnant like she was right now. She was still his girl. “I fell in love with you years ago,” he told her, his heart racing with anticipation. “I didn’t know it at the time, but I figured it out in the time we were apart. And now that I’ve gotten to be with you again, I know I don’t ever wanna be with anyone else.”

Tears shone in her eyes, and she looked like she could barely breathe as she listened to him.

“I’m in love with you. I’m _so_ in love with you,” he said, letting the words come from the heart, whatever felt natural to say. “You’re the one for me. To me, you really are perfect, and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” He smiled, holding the ring up higher, and finally popped the question: “So what do you say, Princess? Will you marry me?”

She still didn’t say anything, and that expression on her face didn’t change. He hadn’t expected it to be quite this much of a shock, but apparently it was.

And then it was her turn to shock him.

“No.”

He frowned, not sure if he’d heard her right. “What?”

Her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes welled up with even more tears. He kept waiting for her to smile, to laugh, to say that she was kidding, but . . . she never did.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy,” she said sadly. “I can’t.” Without any explanation, she hurried out of the room, moving faster than he’d seen her move in months.

Still down on one knee, still holding up the ring, he wracked his brain for . . . anything. A reason. Something that made sense. But nothing did. He didn’t understand. How had this just happened?

Slowly, he lowered the ring, still holding it tightly between his fingers, even though it was supposed to have been on _her_ finger by now. She was supposed to have said yes. Yes, without a doubt. Yes, absolutely. Yes, a million times yes.

So why hadn’t she?


	56. Chapter 56

_Chapter 56_

Avery was kicking up a storm. Almost as if to protest. But Clarke couldn’t pay much attention to her. She sat on the couch and cried, listening to Bellamy’s footsteps upstairs. It sounded like he’d gone in the bedroom. She could just picture him sitting there on the bed, stunned, thinking about what to say to her when he came downstairs, what questions he would ask. Because it wasn’t like he could stay up there forever. He’d come down, and he’d want to know what was going on, and . . .

What was she supposed to tell him?

She kept looking at the door, pondering the idea of just leaving. She had her keys. She could get in the car and drive over to her mom’s. Her mom wouldn’t ask questions. She’d know what was going on. But she wouldn’t know how to help, would she? No, she’d just tell Clarke to stay up in her room, and she’d stand at the front door talking to Bellamy, calmly telling him that he’d have to come back later, that she had things under control.

_Nothing_ was under control anymore, though. Clarke felt it slipping away. No, not even slipping. It was like it’d been ripped away, her whole world, her whole life. All because he’d asked her to marry him. And something inside had just snapped. Now the floodgates were open, and she couldn’t stop crying.

Was he crying, too? Upstairs right now, was that what he was doing? Or was he just trying to figure things out? He wouldn’t, though. He wouldn’t be able to figure out what was wrong.

Unless she _told_ him.

Clarke kind of lost all sense of time as she sat downstairs on that couch, grappling with her new reality. It may have been five minutes, may have been twenty. However long it was, when Bellamy slowly walked down the stairs, it didn’t feel like long enough. She had no idea how she was going to do this. It was gonna hurt.

Bellamy seemed rather speechless, too. And almost . . . cautious. He didn’t come sit down beside her, barely even looked at her, actually. Instead, he went over to the fireplace and looked at the photos on the mantle. There were only a couple of them, an old one of her with her parents, one of him with his mother and Octavia, and one of the two of them in the center, back when she’d only been about six months along. His eyes lingered on that photo, and Clarke watched him, feeling like her heart was breaking. Not even for herself as much as it was for him.

Finally, he turned to her and got a few words out. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What . . .” But just as quickly as he’d begun talking, he stopped. And he just stared at her with such a bewildered look in his eyes that she had to look away. “What just happened?” he asked, his voice getting a little louder.

_You don’t wanna know_ , she thought, but in the back of her mind was another voice, one that said, _But you deserve to_.

He sounded desperate, almost as if he were begging, when he said, “Please, talk to me.”

She pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying to keep from crying. The tears still fell from her eyes, but she didn’t want to break down. Because then he’d feel bad for her, and he’d try to console her and comfort her. And that would just make her feel worse.

“Clarke, I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, his voice shaking. He sounded . . . more than concerned. Afraid. She was scaring him.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked out. Those words felt so worthless.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, and he sounded so heartbreakingly understanding that Clarke still couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you. I just thought . . .” Even with her eyes elsewhere, she _heard_ him swallow hard. His voice was quiet again when he said, “I thought you’d say yes.”

_Yes_ , her heart screamed. She wanted to. She wanted to say yes over and over again. But it wouldn’t be right.

It’d taken him a couple minutes to get there, but at last, he asked the obvious question, the one he had to be dying to get an answer to: “Why didn’t you?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, lowering her head.

“It’s okay,” he assured her quickly, coming closer. “We don’t have to get engaged. We don’t even have to get married if you don’t want to. We can just . . . be together.”

Her whole body shook as a sob tore through her. God, she loved being together with him. He made her happier than anyone else in the whole wide world. Which just made this even harder.

“Clarke, come on, you gotta . . . you gotta talk to me,” he said, kneeling down in front of her. He tried to push her hair back from her face, even tried to wipe her tears away for her. “I’m not mad. I’m just confused. Why don’t you wanna get married? I just wanna know.”

_I don’t wanna tell you_ , she thought, pressing her hand to her stomach. Avery was still kicking wildly, like that was her way of being part of this horrible, horrible conversation.

“Please,” he begged her. He stared at her with wide, questioning eyes, but when she still didn’t say anything, he stood up, threw his hands up in the air, and spat, “What the hell, Clarke?”

She couldn’t blame him for his patience starting to wear thin. She wasn’t exactly making this easy on him. She hadn’t made any of this easy on him. She forced herself to find words again, simply to assure him, “It’s not that I don’t wanna marry you. I just don’t deserve to.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? Why would you say that? I love you.”

“No.” She shook her head stubbornly and pushed herself up off the couch.

“Yes, I do. You know I do,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm as she tried to walk towards the stairs. “Hey, look at me. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

_You shouldn’t love me_ , she thought. That was what was wrong.

“Why would you think you don’t deserve . . .” He trailed off, loosening his hold on her arm to the point of letting go altogether. He seemed to have put together some theory in his mind, something that made logical sense to him, because he nodded slowly and said, “I think I get it. This is about the baby.”

“Bellamy . . .”

“Haven’t we been through this?” he said. “Haven’t I proven to you by now that I’m in it for the long haul?”

Oh god, had he ever. She winced.

“I don’t care if she’s not . . . mine,” he said softly. “I can be her father. I wanna be. I think I’ve already been one.”

Another big kick, as if Avery was agreeing with that.

“Look, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised her. “You don’t have to worry. And you know this isn’t just about the baby, right? That’s not why I proposed to you.”

Yeah, she knew. She knew, and that killed her just a little bit more.

“I wanna marry you for _you_ , Clarke,” he said, almost sounding as if he were about to propose all over again. “I’m in love with you. I’d be in love with you and wanna marry you whether you were pregnant or not.”

She shook her head adamantly and said, “No, you don’t get it.”

He took a step back and snorted, clearly frustrated with the way this was going. “What don’t I get?” he said. “Explain it to me.”

She still didn’t want to, selfish as it may have been. But from the moment she’d rejected his proposal, she’d backed herself into this corner. She had no choice. Gulping, she drew in a shaky breath and said, “This isn’t about me . . . having a baby.”

“Then what is it about?” he demanded. “Please, just tell me.”

Telling him meant losing him, though. She was sure of it. “This isn’t the first time,” she practically whispered, averting her eyes.

“The first time what?” he prodded.

Feeling like the least she could do was look him in the eye when she dropped the bombshell on him, she lifted her head and gazed at him through a veil of tears. And then she said it: “That I’ve been pregnant.”

****

_They rode up the elevator in silence, hand in hand, stepped out onto the fourth floor, and proceeded to take a wrong turn on the way to their room. She laughed a little as he dragged her back down the hall in the opposite direction, but when they got to the closed door to room 421, they both fell silent again. And it got serious. Bellamy waved the key card in front of the lock, and it clicked open. The room was dark, so he reached around for a light switch, found it, and flipped it on._

_Clarke had never actually been to Arkadia’s hotel before, but she’d heard that it was pretty standard and sometimes a little disgusting. And indeed, this was nothing special. The bed wasn’t even a king-size, just a queen. But that was plenty of room for both of them. They managed to squeeze into his twin bed all the time._

_“Will this do?” he asked, shutting the door behind them._

_“It’s better than having my parents walk in on us,” she said._

_“Or my sister.”_

_Yeah, the hotel room had pretty much been a necessity. They needed to be alone. Her mom had questioned it, of course, but Clarke hadn’t left it up for debate. She’d just told her that she was going to be with Bellamy tonight. All night._

_They faced each other, and Clarke couldn’t even crack a smile. This was too bittersweet for that. Bellamy looked sad, too. But not sad enough to stay._

_“I can’t believe this is our last night together,” he said, smoothing his hand up and down her arm._

_She couldn’t believe it, either. It was all ending so fast. Almost as fast as it had all started. “So let’s not waste it,” she suggested, popping open the top button on her shirt. Then the next, and then the next, until she could open her shirt and let it slide off her shoulders. It fell at her feet, and Bellamy’s expression changed into a passionate one. And then his hands were on her._

_Their clothes came off easily, almost as if they were melting. She lifted his shirt above his head for him, and he unclasped her bra for her. Their hands and fingers were a jumbled mess as they both reached out to undo each other’s jeans, but they still managed to remove them quickly. She shoved her panties down to her feet, and he shucked off his boxers. They were naked in virtually no time at all. And that just felt right._

_He touched her like she was a work of art, and he looked like one himself. His strong arms, broad chest and shoulders, the muscles of his abdomen . . . she needed to make sure she remembered exactly what he looked like. And what he felt like. So she let her hands roam all over him, plastered her chest to his and kissed him deeply, feeling the familiar swirl of his tongue around hers._

_When he lifted her up off her feet, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He walked right over their clothes and carried her to the bed, laying her down and crawling on top of her. For a second, even though they were in a different room and she was at a completely different point in her life, she remembered their first time together, when he’d been on top of her just like this. But that had been exciting, like an adventure, something new to try. This was . . . something else entirely._

_No longer the virginal sixteen year old who needed to be fucked for the first time, she pushed back on his chest and reversed their positions so that she was lying on top of him, ready to take control. She rolled her hips against him, keeping her chest pressed to his as they continued to kiss. Her hair fell forward, and he tucked it behind her ear for her._

_His body felt so good beneath hers. His skin was so warm, and he smelled so good. She wanted him. She wanted him so much. And judging by the way his cock poked at her pussy, he wanted her, too._

_With one hand, she reached back behind herself, steadying his erection, and positioned herself right on top of it. She felt the familiar rush of being joined with him as she sank down onto his length, and she tore her mouth away from his so she could let out a pleasured moan. It felt like . . . bliss, honestly. Like nothing could ever be better._

_Somehow, Bellamy stopped things just as she was going to start riding him. He put his hands on her hips and said, “Wait a minute. I’m not wearing a . . .”_

_“It’s okay,” she cut him off, her breath mingling with his own as she bent forward again. “Don’t worry about it.” She kissed him again, and he didn’t protest as she started moving her hips, rocking on top of him, taking as much of his cock as she could. She didn’t want there to be any space between their bodies, because in that moment, she wasn’t even sure if she could exist without him. His hands were all over her, and hers were all over him, and she could feel his heart beating fast. Just like her own._

_She wanted to feel every inch of him._

_“Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth, losing herself in the sensations. They weren’t Bellamy and Clarke, two separate people anymore. They were just . . . them. Whatever they were. She felt no need to question it. He felt so good inside her, almost like he was meant to be there. Almost like he never had to leave._

****

Clarke held Bellamy’s gaze until she couldn’t anymore, until the shame became too much. Because that was what it was. _Shame_. It was beyond guilt, beyond remorse. And seeing him get down on one knee had caused it to explode. Did he feel it, too? Did he feel it radiating off of her in waves?

“What’re you . . .” With nothing more to go on, it was clear that he was still struggling to connect the dots, to make sense of what little she was actually saying. But telling him she’d been pregnant before left very few options for someone who had only had two male partners in her lifetime, and eventually, it dawned on him. “You mean we . . .” He trailed off in astonishment and took a few stumbling steps backwards. Like he’d been hit by a train or something. “Oh.”

In that moment, Avery stopped kicking. Just out of nowhere, she stopped, almost as if she were surprised, too. Clarke knew, logically, that there was no way she could understand what was going on. But maybe, somehow, without even being born yet, she still sensed something. They were, after all, talking about a brother or sister she’d never know.

“When?” Bellamy managed to ask.

She wasn’t exactly sure when, because their condom usage back in high school had been inconsistent. Still, she had an idea. “The night before you left,” she said. “I think.” As amazing as that night had _felt_ at the time, she looked back on it now and hated herself for being so stupid. It didn’t matter that she’d been on the pill. She should have been smart enough to know it wasn’t one-hundred percent effective. In fact, she _had_ known that. She just . . . hadn’t cared.

Understandably, he sounded slightly accusatory when he questioned her, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She sniffed back tears, thinking, _Because I was afraid. And selfish. And awful_. What kind of person did that make her to keep this from him all this time? How had she lived with all of this on her conscience?

As he continued to process everything, Bellamy’s tone shifted, and his next question was a more sympathetic one. “What happened?” When she didn’t say anything, he filled in the blanks himself. “You had a miscarriage?”

She grimaced, a fresh well of tears spilling over.

“Come here.” He moved in close, trying to reach out for her.

“No,” she said, backing away.

“Clarke . . .”

“No, I can’t . . .” She didn’t deserve his sympathy, his support, any of it.

“It’s not your fault, alright?” he said. Tears shone in his own eyes now, too. “That kind of thing just happens. Just like it happened to your dad and Alyssa. It’s okay. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve good things happening to you now.”

Oh, he had no idea what she deserved.

“And you can talk to me about it,” he told her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“No, you don’t get it,” she said. “Bellamy, you don’t understand . . .” He was trying to, but he just _didn’t_ understand.

“I know I can’t ever know what it was like,” he said. “But you can still talk to me.”

“No, Bellamy, you don’t get it!” she repeated, her voice rising with hysteria. “I didn’t have a miscarriage!”

“So then . . .” He trailed off abruptly, his mouth stopping while it was open. No words came out. She could practically see him thinking, trying to come up with some kind of explanation that fit with the narrative she was telling but didn’t turn her into a monster. “What, y-you put it up for adoption or something?” he asked, an irrational hopefulness in his voice.

She stared at him sadly, shamefully, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

It was so obvious that he was trying everything he could to have faith in her, to believe that she would _never_ . . . do what she’d done. But he had to know it didn’t make any sense. She watched his expression change as everything clicked into place, everything he couldn’t rationalize. Like the fact that no one had ever seen her with a pregnant belly until a couple of months ago. If she’d had that baby, there wouldn’t have been any way to keep it a secret in a place like Arkadia. “Clarke, what did you . . . what did you do?” he asked fearfully, taking a few steps backward again.

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. And she didn’t have to. Silence said it all.

His immediate reaction was . . . surprisingly subdued. “No.” He went back to the fireplace, once again looking hard at the picture of the two of them on the mantle. It was from Valentine’s Day. They were at Raven and Murphy’s, and he had his arms around her, hands resting atop her belly. He stared at that photo for a long time, then allowed himself to say the words. “You had an abortion?” It was still a question, though, like he couldn’t truly believe it.

That word . . . it sent shivers up her spine. For years now, she’d tried not to even think about it. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized right away. But it wasn’t gonna be enough. How could words ever make up for what she’d done?

Bellamy’s shoulders slumped, and he held onto the mantle for support. “What?” he said more to himself than to her. He shook his head, whirled around, and defiantly said, “No. No, I don’t believe you.”

“Bellamy . . .”

“You didn’t have an abortion,” he said. “I’ve never even gotten you pregnant. You would’ve told me. You wouldn’t have done that without telling me.”

_Oh god_. She felt like there was a hand around her heart, just squeezing it with all its might. He loved her so much that he didn’t want to believe this, that he was willing to try to convince himself that it was all some kind of . . . what, some kind of sick joke? “I wish I hadn’t,” she said. “God, Bellamy, I wish that so much. But I did.” She inhaled shakily, feeling like she could barely breathe, and forced herself to say the words. “I had an abortion.” The invisible hand around her heart squeezed so hard, she felt like she died for a moment. _That_ would have been what she deserved.

“No,” he said, still shaking his head.

“I found out I was pregnant a couple weeks after you left,” she revealed. “And I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone, except my parents.”

“They know?” he asked incredulously.

“I had to tell them.”

“But you couldn’t tell me?” he roared. “I got you pregnant, and you couldn’t tell _me_?”

“You were already in Florida.”

“So? Call me up.”

“And say what?” She’d thought about it. There had been several nights when she’d had the phone in her hand and had been staring at his name in her contacts list.

“‘Hey, Bellamy, I’m pregnant.’ Just a thought,” he said. “You didn’t even tell me!”

She’d come close. But that didn’t matter, did it? Ultimately, she’d kept it a secret. “I didn’t wanna . . . be a burden,” she said, trying to explain her very screwed up mindset at the time. “I-I know that doesn’t make it right, but--”

“No, it doesn’t!” he yelled, his eyes ablaze now as he looked her over in horror. “God, you were pregnant with someone who was half me and . . . I didn’t know, Clarke! Don’t you think I deserved to know that?”

“Yeah, you did,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was freaking out, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you decided to just get rid of it?”

“No!” She hated the way that sounded, like it was just something she’d thrown in the trash. “No, I didn’t . . .” There wasn’t a way to justify her actions, but she didn’t want to make it seem like it’d been an easy action to take. “It wasn’t a decision I made in two seconds, okay? My mom and dad and I . . . we talked about it a lot, and--”

“And you decided it was best to just get rid of it,” he cut in angrily.

“ _No!_ No, it wasn’t like that! Please stop saying that!” She pressed her face into her hands and sobbed, wishing she could just wake up from this, like a bad dream. Like a vivid bad dream that wasn’t real. This was real, though. This was really happening, and it should have probably happened a long, long time ago. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life,” she tried to tell him.

“Oh, save it!” he snapped.

“No, Bellamy, please, I need you to try to understand,” she pleaded with him. “I was sixteen. I was in _way_ over my head. And you were only eighteen, and you weren’t around.”

“I was a phone call away,” he reminded her.

“But I didn’t wanna derail your whole life, not right when you had something really important going for you.”

“Oh, so you killed my kid behind my back as a _favor_ to me?” he bit out. “Gee, thanks.”

Just the way he phrased that . . . _killed_. Killed his kid. _Their_ kid. “I told you, I didn’t know what to do,” she said again. “And my mom and dad were arguing about it, and they were _so_ disappointed in me.” She could still hear those fights of their echoing in her head today. “And they just kept arguing, and things got more and more confusing. I was so scared about what was gonna happen. I didn’t feel ready to be a mom.”

“Yeah, well, I could’ve been a dad,” he said, his voice quivering. His jaw was tense, tight, but he was crying, too, devastated tears flowing down his freckled cheeks. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Bellamy cry like this. Maybe she never had. “I would’ve done it, you know,” he said. “I would’ve given up football and come back home and--”

“I know. That’s why I felt like I couldn’t tell you.”

“Listen, I don’t care what you felt like,” he growled. “You should’ve told me, Clarke. You should’ve _fucking_ told me!”

“I know!” she cried. “I’m sorry!”

“Quit saying you’re sorry!”

“I am, though! I _am_ sorry,” she kept on. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“God-dammit,” he swore, turning his back to her again. His shoulders rose up and down erratically as he cried, and he shook his head in complete bewilderment. “We had a baby. You and me,” he said. And then, as if he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it, he said the same thing as a question. “We had a baby?”

She looked down at her bulging belly, imagining what someone who was half him and half her would have looked like. What they would’ve been like. Boy or girl, short or tall, blonde or brunette . . . they’d have a little toddler by now if she hadn’t . . . gotten rid of it. She hated the way that sounded, but he was right to phrase it that way. It was what she’d done.

“I should’ve told you,” she said regretfully. “I should’ve told you right when I found out.”

He spun back around again, his face a contortion of anger and sadness. “You know when else you could’ve told me? Any day for the past eight months!” he yelled at her. “I’ve been right here, going through all of this with you. I’ve been next to you in that bed every single night. And you still didn’t tell me!”

She choked out a sob, feeling the full weight of the shame when he brought that up. Because he was right about that, too. It wasn’t just that she’d kept something from him. It was that she’d kept it from him for a long time. It’d taken him proposing to get her to spill the truth.

“Jesus Christ, Clarke!” he roared. “It’s bad enough that you kept me out of the loop back then, but to keep it a secret like this now . . . how the hell could you do that? How the hell could you do that to me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, weakly.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time, this whole time we’ve been back together!”

“I never meant to lie!” she wept. “I just . . . I didn’t know how to tell you. We got back together, and I fell in love with you all over again.”

He grunted and shook his head, as though he didn’t even believe that now.

“And it’s horrible and selfish and awful, but I didn’t wanna lose you.”

“But how could you wake up next to me every day and fall asleep next to me every night knowing you were lying to me?” he ground out. “You were _lying_ , Clarke.”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I just . . . I tried to stop thinking about it,” she confessed. From time to time, the thoughts and the memories did creep up to the surface, but she’d become a master at pushing them back down, keeping it all buried. “Over the years, Bellamy, I’ve just tried to think about it less and less, because . . . if I think about it . . . if I think about what I did . . .” She cried loudly, feeling like that same lost, overwhelmed sixteen year old girl again who had ended her summer vacation at a Planned Parenthood clinic. “I regret it, okay? I regret it so much.”

“That doesn’t bring the baby back,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“Dammit,” he swore angrily. “Why, Clarke? Why’d you do this? Why’d you keep it a secret from me? I feel like I don’t even know you now.”

“No, you do,” she assured him. “You know me better than anyone.”

“Apparently I don’t.”

“You _do_ ,” she insisted.

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant!” he shouted through his tears. “I put a kid in you, and I didn’t even know!”

“But that’s my fault,” she said. “Not yours.”

“Yeah, I know it’s your fault.”

“But Bellamy, everything else between us . . . everything else is still the same.” She felt him slipping away, so she tried to reach out for him.

“How can you say that?” he said, taking one step back. “It’s not the same. This changes everything. Ten minutes ago, when I looked at you, I felt like I was looking at the most perfect person in the world. But I look at you now, and I feel sick.”

She winced as that landed, but even though it hurt, she knew it was what she deserved. “I never said I was perfect,” she reminded him. “You’re the one who always said that to me. I tried to tell you I wasn’t, but--”

“Oh, so now this is my fault?”

“No, I’m not saying that!” she screeched. “I’m just trying to get you to understand that . . . this weighed on me, okay? This secret. It ate away at me.”

“Oh, yeah, it really seemed like it was eating away at you whenever I told you I loved you,” he growled sarcastically, “or whenever I’d hold you in my arms, or whenever we made love. Yeah, you know, I’m sure you just felt awful about it then.”

“God.” She tried unsuccessfully to wipe the tears from her eyes, but new ones just immediately sprang forward to take their place. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how,” she said. “And that’s part of the reason why I was so reluctant to get back together with you in the first place. I didn’t . . .” She faded off, disappointed in herself for giving in and starting this up again with him without being honest. After everything he’d done for her, she’d repaid him by lying, by keeping something this huge from him.

“You didn’t want me to find out,” he filled in. “Don’t lie, Clarke. You never wanted to tell me.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t!” he bellowed furiously, pointing a finger at her. “Otherwise you just would’ve done it. Admit it: You wanted it to stay a secret. And if I hadn’t proposed to you tonight, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation, would we?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“No, we wouldn’t. We would’ve come home, got undressed, got in bed and fucked. And you would’ve kept lying, wouldn’t you?”

If she was being honest with him, she had to be honest with herself, too. And as uncomfortable as it was to admit . . . if he hadn’t proposed, nothing inside her would have snapped. It would’ve been a normal night. With a not so normal secret. “Seeing you get down on one knee like that . . .” she said. “I _wanted_ to say yes, Bellamy. But I couldn’t. Because I have been lying to you. And I am _so_ sorry. I know you don’t believe me.”

“No, I believe you,” he said, his jaw clenched tightly now. “I just don’t know if it’s enough.”

_No, it has to be_ , she thought. _Please_.

“How can you say you love me if you would do this to me?” he asked her.

“Bellamy, I do, though. I do love you,” she told him. Those weren’t just words she was saying. She’d fallen in love with him as a sophomore in high school. There had never been anyone else for her but him.

“You know what?” His feelings seemed to have morphed into pure anger, because he glared at her, no sign of the love that she was used to seeing in his eyes. “I’m glad you said no,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna be with someone I can’t trust.”

_Don’t do this, Bellamy_ , she thought, although she _did_ understand where she was coming from. Trust was the foundation of a relationship, and she’d betrayed his. Still, hearing him say that stung. “You don’t wanna be with me?” Not even an hour ago, he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It couldn’t just change that quickly, could it? She knew this was bad, and she knew it wouldn’t be easy to get past, but . . . was it really gonna destroy everything? Everything they had?

“Congratulations, Clarke,” he said, his tone completely unsympathetic now. “Looks like all those nightmares you had are coming true.”

“No, Bellamy, wait!” she cried as he stormed past her and walked out the front door. She ran to it, and pleaded with him to stay as he marched straight to his car. “ _Please!_ Bellamy!” She didn’t follow him outside, though, because it was just so obvious that he was already gone. He got in that car, slammed the door shut, and drove off without even so much as another look at her. And just like that, he left. Just like he had in all those awful dreams.

She shut the door, leaned against it, and sank down on the floor, sobbing, shaking, feeling like the ground had just opened up underneath her. And now she was free-falling. No one there to catch her, or even to catch Avery. Because Bellamy was gone. Again.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I know that last chapter was . . . a lot.
> 
> As we move onward in this story, I wanted to put a little author's note at the start of this chapter, because it's obvious that we are now discussing some very serious and sensitive stuff here. This story is in no way meant to be judgment or condemnation on anyone. It is, however, meant to be a narrative exploration of an emotional topic. I wanted this story to be authentic, so that means that sometimes characters are going to say, think, or do things that you might not agree with. I promise you that this was not something I wrote haphazardly, but it was something I tried very hard to write realistically.

_Chapter 57_

Bellamy’s mind was a mess. Just a mess of thoughts and questions as he drove to his mom’s house. In a way, nothing felt real. How could it? Of all the reactions he’d expected to his proposal, _no_ hadn’t been one of them. And he never would have guessed what lay behind it. Clarke’s _reason_ for saying no, the guilt over a secret finally coming to light . . .

How the hell was this even happening?

When he got to his mom’s house, he stayed out in the driveway for a few minutes, just sitting in his car with the engine turned off. Everything Clarke had said, every worthless ‘I’m sorry,’ ricocheted in his head. Over and over again. An apology just wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. There was no way ‘I’m sorry’ could make up for a whole fucking abortion, and for keeping it from him for so long.

Pissed off as hell, Bellamy got out of his car and went into the house. He stormed straight to the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator, bending down to look towards the back and see if his mom had any alcohol.

“Bellamy?” The door to her bedroom opened, and she came out in a long nightgown. “What’re you doing here?”

“I need a place to crash,” he said, grabbing the only bottle of beer he saw. It wasn’t even gonna get him drunk, but it was better than nothing.

“What’s going on?”

He placed the cap of the beer bottle against the edge of the counter, slammed his hand down atop it twice, and the cap came off. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered, gliding past his mom on his way to his bedroom. Hell, he was still having a hard time processing everything himself. No need to unload on her right now, too.

He went into his room and slammed the door shut, very much like the moody teenager he’d never actually been. He sat down on the side of his bed and took a drink. A big one. Not that it helped him feel any better. He felt like crying. Or punching a wall. Or maybe doing both. But for now, drinking would have to do.

He held his bottle by the neck in one hand and reached into his pocket with the other, pulling out the engagement ring he’d been so excited to give Clarke, the one he’d paid so much for. It just seemed useless now. Useless and pointless and like a really stupid idea. He stared down at it in the palm of his hand, half tempted to find something to smash it with. But something inside him just . . . couldn’t. He couldn’t do that. So he closed his fingers around it and squeezed his hand tightly into a fist. The ring dug into his skin, and it probably should have hurt, but he didn’t even feel a thing.

A knock on his door caused him to loosen his fist. “Bellamy?” his mom said softly. He didn’t respond, but that didn’t deter her. “I just wanted to let you know that . . . I’m here,” she said. “Whatever’s going on, if you decide you wanna talk about it . . . I’m here for you.”

Of course she was. She was his _mother_. And she was a damn good one. She wasn’t going to push him to talk if he didn’t want to. If he needed space, she’d give that to him. “Thanks, Mom,” he managed to scrape out before taking another drink from the bottle. And it wasn’t just thanks for letting him stay there tonight or not asking too many questions. It was thanks for a lot more than that. After all, she’d gotten pregnant in high school, too. And if she’d made a different choice, the same choice Clarke had made, then he never would have even existed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After Bellamy left, Clarke cried for a long time. But when she finally stopped, she decided she needed . . . punishment. Of some kind. She _needed_ to feel awful, worse than she already did. It was what she deserved. So she went back upstairs into the nursery, becoming tearful once again when she thought of that excited look on his face and in his eyes as he knelt down and professed his love for her. And that ring he’d held up for her was beautiful. If only she could have worn it.

Still in the nursery was the purple bunny with its green jersey. She grazed her fingers over the name on the back, feeling like the choices she’d made years ago were affecting Avery now. Because Avery could have been Avery Blake. She hadn’t made any mistakes yet or done anything wrong. She could have been born and had _Blake_ as a last name, if it wasn’t for what her stupid mom had done. What if there was no hope of that now? What if Avery had lost a father because of all of this? The only father she’d ever had.

_I ruin everything_ , Clarke thought morosely. She’d taken a child away from Bellamy, and now maybe she’d pushed Bellamy away from a child. She couldn’t blame anyone else for what was happening. It didn’t matter that her mom had been in her ear a lot back then, pushing for her to have the procedure done so she could just have a clean slate. It didn’t matter that she’d just been a teenager and had been freaking out. It was still all her fault.

She thought of Bellamy’s false belief all these years that she was this perfect person, or at least perfect for him, and the tears started coming again. She fled the nursery, went into her room, and began rifling through the nightstand drawer for the necklace he’d given her so many years ago. She found it, looking down at the words etched on the charm angrily. _To me, you are perfect_. Yeah, right. Yeah, fucking right. Perfect people didn’t have abortions and lie about it for years. Perfect people didn’t let it get to the point of a proposal before they finally told the truth.

Necklace in hand, she headed back downstairs as fast as her swollen feet would take her. It was slow-going, but she finally made it outside onto the back porch. It’d gotten colder, especially chilly for springtime, but she walked out onto the beach anyway, ignoring a few droplets of rain that had started to fall. She went right up to the edge of the water and threw the necklace out into the ocean as far as she could. It was too dark to see where it landed, the waves too loud for her to hear a splash. But it was out there now, gone. Because the words on it were a lie, and she wasn’t telling lies anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All night, Bellamy lay awake. His eyes felt heavy, because he’d done his fair share of crying. Of course, he’d done his best to press his face into his pillow so his mom wouldn’t hear him. She must have managed to go back to sleep, because she didn’t knock on his door at all. She did come in to check on him right before the sun came up, but he pretended to be asleep.

When he wasn’t crying or replaying his entire conversation with Clarke over and over again in his head, he stared at the engagement ring, twirled it around in between his fingers. What was he supposed to do with that now? What was he supposed to do . . . about anything?

The sun came up, almost annoyingly bright outside his window, but it didn’t make him feel any better. It didn’t matter that it was a new day; he still felt the same despair.

****

_The curtains were closed, but sunlight still managed to show through them. Bellamy stirred, trying to stay asleep, but it didn’t work. He was waking up, and there was nothing he could do to stop it._

_The good part about waking up was feeling Clarke next to him, opening his eyes and seeing her lying in his arms with her head and hand on his chest. He never got to wake up with her like this. Sure, sometimes they dozed off on the couch or in his bedroom for an hour or two, but they were never able to spend the whole night together. And last night they had. And it’d been . . . perfect. They’d tried their best to stay awake so they could keep having sex with each other, but eventually, exhaustion had gotten the best of both of them. Which was fine. Just sharing a bed with her was nice, too. In fact, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his last night in Arkadia, or a better person to spend it with._

_Clarke looked content and peaceful as she lay with him. Her hair was sprawled out behind her, and her breathing was calm and steady. She even had a small smile on her face, barely noticeable but still there. Maybe she was having a good dream._

_He hoped she was, because their reality . . . it wasn’t so good. When he stopped admiring the sight of her, he reminded himself what today was. What it meant for them. This was the last day he got to think of her as his girlfriend, because he had to leave. Tempting as it was to try to convince her to stay with him and give this long-distance thing a shot, he couldn’t be that selfish with her. She had her own life to lead; she didn’t need to be tied down with him._

_It sucked, though, leaving her. And he hadn’t even left yet._

_Although he hadn’t moved, except to peek at the clock on the bedside table, she must have just sensed that he was awake, because she started to wake up, too. Moaning sleepily, she shifted around a bit, stretched out her legs, and blinked open her eyes. “Hey,” she said._

_“Hey.” He removed his arm from underneath her head and turned over on his side so he could get a better look at her. “You look good in the morning.”_

_“No, I don’t,” she said, “but thanks for saying that.” Sighing, she glanced back over her shoulder at the sun shining in through the curtains, then looked back at him and frowned sadly. “Why does it have to be today already?”_

_“I don’t know.” He touched her cheek, wishing there was a way to turn back time. “The night went too fast.” They hadn’t even left the bed, but still, the hours had flown by._

_“How much time do we have?” she asked him quietly, almost fearfully, as if she didn’t really want to know the answer._

_“About an hour,” he told her. Just one hour. Sixty minutes, and then he had to be home, loading his luggage into his mom’s car. There was a plane ticket with his name on it. He’d be a fool to turn it down._

_An hour wasn’t much time, wasn’t enough time at all. But it was still something. And Bellamy could tell they were both determined to make the most of it when their mouths met in a searing kiss._

****

When Bellamy finally got out of bed, he felt like he could barely move. There hadn’t been one football game or one day on the construction site that had made his body and his bones feel as tired and shot to hell as they did right now.

His mom was still there, somewhat to his surprise, sitting on the couch watching TV. She turned down the volume when he emerged from his room, though, and looked at him curiously.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked, dumping last night’s empty bottle into the trash can.

“I live here,” she said simply.

“But don’t you have to work?”

“I called in sick,” she explained. “Thought it might be best if I stay here with you.”

That was nice of her to do, but he had no intention of hiding out at his mom’s house all day. Having had a night to think about it, he’d progressed through the shock stage and was now thoroughly entrenched in anger. “Well, I’m not staying,” he said, opening up the refrigerator again. “I gotta go somewhere.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I gotta go see someone.” He moved aside bottles of pop and . . . _Jackpot_. His mom had cans of beer stashed back there.

“Who?” she continued to question him.

“Doesn’t matter.” He took out one of the cans, popped the tab on it, and took a swig as he headed toward the door.

“Bellamy!” she called after him, shooting to her feet. The obvious concern in his voice was enough to get him to stop and turn around. “What’s wrong? Please, tell me,” she urged him.

He would. Just not right now. He had to know more himself first. “I’ll tell you later,” he said. “I promise, I won’t keep it a secret.” Secrets were Clarke’s thing. Not his.

His mom definitely wasn’t happy that he was keeping her in the dark, but she didn’t demand answers right in the moment. She let him leave, but she stood in the doorway and watched him drive away. She was probably worried about him being behind the wheel, but he was fine. A little alcohol didn’t make him drunk, and a little sleeplessness didn’t make him distracted. He made the drive to the Griffin house just fine, but when he got there, he was discouraged to see no vehicles in the driveway. Since Abby and Kane had too many vehicles for their own good, they couldn’t fit them all in the double-car garage. So if one of them was home, their car would be in the driveway. Even though he was pretty sure neither one of them was home, he got out and knocked on the front door anyway. No answer. So he rang the doorbell. Still no answer. He alternated between the two, even shouting at Abby to let him in at one point. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t there to hear him. It just felt good to shout at her.

It didn’t a genius—thank God, because he wasn’t one—to figure out where Abby was likely to be. She was a doctor, so he figured she’d be at the hospital. When he got there, he marched right up to Gaia, the soft-spoken receptionist at the front desk, and blurted, “I need to see Abby Griffin.”

“Hi, Bellamy,” Gaia said politely. She was on a first-name basis with him since he’d been there so many times for Clarke’s appointments. “I’m sorry, she’s with patients all morning,” The receptionist gave him a weird look, and he wondered just how disheveled he looked. “You might be able to catch her this afternoon, though,” she said. “I can schedule you an appointment.”

“No, that won’t work. I gotta see her now,” he insisted. Her patients could wait a few minutes. Nobody in that waiting room looked like they were dying.

“I’m sorry,” Gaia repeated, and dammit, he was so tired of hearing those words. “The soonest I can get you in with her is--”

_Screw this_ , he decided. “Abby!” He marched right back behind the counter towards the patient rooms.

“Bellamy, you can’t come back here,” Gaia said nervously. Luckily, Abby exited the nearest room with a patient, and Bellamy stopped his tirade.

“We need to talk,” he told her.

“What’s going on?” she asked as her patient scurried on his way. “Is Clarke okay?”

“Clarke’s fine,” he bit out. “She told me everything.”

Either Abby was playing dumb, or she really actually was dumb, because she stupidly asked, “Told you what?”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know,” he snarled. “You wanna do this here? You wanna do this right here? Because we can. I’ll let it all out.”

“Do we need to call security?” Gaia asked nervously.

“No,” Abby said. “I’ll handle this. Bellamy, come with me.” She motioned him to follow her down the hall, and he did, glaring daggers at her the whole time. They ended up in her office, where she closed the door and continued to speak steadily. “Okay, now that we’re alone, why don’t you calm down and tell me--”

“I’m not gonna be calm, Abby!” he roared. “You know what this is about!” He wasn’t gonna bother being quiet, either. If some of her colleagues and the people out there who looked up to her overheard this, then so be it. “You _know_ what she told me!” he yelled. “You knew the whole fucking time!”

“Please lower your voice,” she said sternly and slowly. “You’re in a hospital.”

That just made him want to get louder. “I don’t care! Now cut the crap and admit it. Just fucking admit it. You knew all along. You knew Clarke had an abortion.”

Abby’s eyes widened with alarm, and for a few seconds, she seemed speechless. When she found her words again, she only whispered them. “How did you find out about that?”

“I already told you, she told me everything. Pay attention!” he snapped.

“Why did she . . .” She trailed off, and he had to roll his eyes. Of course that would be one of her first questions. _Why_ had Clarke told him? Because keeping it a secret had been working out so well for them for so long. Abby must have caught herself, though, because she ended up asking a different question instead. “When did she tell you?”

“Last night,” he grumbled. “ _After_ I got down on one knee and proposed to her like an idiot.”

Abby gasped. “You proposed to her?”

“Yeah.” He felt like such a dumbass for doing that now. “Don’t worry, she said no. You don’t have to have me as your son-in-law.”

She frowned, probably in an attempt to seem sympathetic, and said, “Oh, Bellamy . . .”

“And then when I confronted her about it, she broke down, told me the truth. She _explained_ it to me,” he said, gritting his teeth. “But I wanna hear it from you. I wanna hear it from someone else who knew about it and lied to me for months. What the hell happened, huh? She told you she was pregnant, and then what?”

“Bellamy . . .” Abby lowered her head, looking ashamed very much in the same way her daughter had. And when she spoke again, she said the same useless words. “I’m very sorry. We never wanted you to know.”

“Yeah, I pretty much figured. But I don’t wanna hear you say you’re sorry, and I don’t wanna hear her say she’s sorry. I’m pretty fucking tired of that.” He paced around in her small office, feeling like he was losing it, like any second, he really was going to punch his hand through the wall. “I wanna know what you said to her when you found out. Did you _make_ her have an abortion? Was it your idea?”

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t _make_ her do anything,” she said. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” he yelled. “Come on, Abby, you owe me the truth. Better late than never.”

“I was panicked, okay?” she said. “I didn’t handle the situation well. I’ll admit that. I was upset with her, and disappointed. And I was worried. I didn’t know how you were gonna react, or if she was gonna end up being a single mother.”

“No, I wouldn’t have just abandoned her,” he said, shaking his head angrily. “Or my kid. I never would’ve done that.”

“That’s easy for you to say now, at twenty-four years old.”

“No, you don’t know me!” he blared. “You don’t know what I would’ve done! You’ve never known me; you’ve never even bothered to _try_ to get to know me!” He would’ve stepped up, even back then. Just like he’d stepped up now for a baby that wasn’t even biologically his.

“Then that’s my fault,” she acknowledged. “But I wanted her to know about all her options. So we discussed everything. _Everything_ , Bellamy. And ultimately she decided . . .” She trailed off, as though she didn’t want to say the word. And who would? He didn’t like saying it, either.

“Yeah, with your help, right?” he said. “She decided, because you convinced her.”

“I _informed_ her,” Abby corrected. “And I supported her decision.”

“But do you still?” he challenged. “Now that she’s pregnant again and you’re about to be a grandmother, do you still support it? Or is it different now ‘cause it’s not _my_ kid?”

“It’s different now because she’s an adult. She’s not sixteen,” Abby said. “You weren’t here, Bellamy. You left town. You broke up with her. It was over.”

“But I came back,” he pointed out.

“Five years later.”

“But it’s not over anymore!” he shouted. “It hasn’t been over for months, and neither one of you told me! And what about Jake, huh? He didn’t tell me, either. Hell, he gave me _permission_ to marry her.” He wasn’t about to let that guy off the hook, either, just because he was the nicer one out of Clarke’s parents. “Did you know that? He was okay with letting me live a lie. You all were.”

“I wasn’t okay with anything,” she said. “I tried to get Clarke to be cautious about getting back together with you. I knew this would happen.”

“But what if it hadn’t, huh?” he said, wondering how far she would have let the lie continue. “What if she’d said yes? We’d be engaged right now, and I still wouldn’t have one fucking clue she and I ever made a baby.”

“It wasn’t . . .” She stopped short, took a breath, and started over again. “It wasn’t a baby, Bellamy. It—it wasn’t that developed.” She winced as she said the words, then added, “Scientifically-speaking.”

“I don’t care about the science!” He slammed his hand down on her desk, fed up her calm, cold demeanor about something that had rattled him to his core. She wasn’t even crying. “Maybe you can use that to make yourself feel better because you’re a doctor, but it doesn’t help me!”

“Listen,” she said, still remarkably calm and collected, “I know this is a lot for you to take in and a lot for you to deal with . . .”

“Oh, you think you know?” She didn’t know shit about what he was feeling.

“Yes, because it was a lot for me to deal with at the time, too.”

“No, you have _no_ idea!”

“But you need to stop and think about this, Bellamy,” she said, as if she had any right to tell him what he needed to do. “Even if she had told you all those years ago, she might’ve still made the same decision. She might’ve still had an abortion. And that would’ve still ultimately been her decision to make, not yours.”

“But at least I could’ve tried to change her mind. I didn’t even have the chance.” His voice broke as he said that, as he imagined what he would have said to her to try to convince her to have the baby. Even if she hadn’t wanted to raise it, he would have been willing to do it alone. “You probably told her not to tell me, just so I couldn’t have any input,” he said. “You’ve _always_ had it out for me.”

She shook her head and denied, “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is! Even now, you don’t want me in your family. So maybe you’re happy about all this. Maybe you’re glad this is tearing me and Clarke apart.”

“I’m not _glad_ about any of this.”

“You know what, Abby? I don’t believe you,” he decided. Her word meant nothing to him. It was bullshit. “You can go to hell,” he muttered, throwing open her office door. He stormed back out into the hall, noticing all the inquisitive, interested looks from the nurses, the receptionist, and even a few patients in nearby rooms. Had he really been that loud?

_Good_ , he thought. Abby deserved the humiliation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke hadn’t bothered to lie down in her bed last night. She knew she wasn’t going to sleep, and being in that bed without Bellamy would just be painful. So she lay downstairs on the couch all night, crying for long periods of time, then closing her eyes and just thinking for long periods of time. Her phone didn’t ring all night, but in the morning, it started making all sorts of noises. It dinged whenever she got a new text, which seemed to happen about every fifteen minutes. First came a random one from Raven, and it was nothing more than a gif of a guy dancing. She’d typed _It’s Friday!_ underneath. A little while later, she did text again, asking Clarke if she wanted to hang out later or go get lunch, but Clarke didn’t even bother responding. Then came a text from Harper, who apparently needed advice on a birthday gift for Monty. Clarke didn’t feel like she was in a position to give anybody advice. On anything.

Her mom started calling around 9:00. And it was one phone call after another. Sometimes the number on the screen was her work number, sometimes her cell phone. She never left a message, but she kept calling.

_She knows_ , Clarke realized. She knew what had happened. Bellamy must have gone and said something to her.

Around 10:00, she received a short but noteworthy text from Aurora. All it said was, _Do you need someone to talk to?_ But it sent Clarke’s mind spinning in so many different directions. Had Bellamy already told her everything? Did she know? Was she upset, angry? Empathetic? Or maybe she didn’t know the specifics and just knew that something was wrong. After all, Bellamy had probably gone and stayed with her last night.

Clarke felt the need to at least respond to her, so she texted back _No_ , but not wanting to sound rude, she sent another one immediately after that said, _Thank you_.

Closer to noon came a text from Octavia. It was simple enough, just asked, _How was your date with my brother last night?_ But it was sort of a weird thing to ask. As Clarke sat there and thought about it, she realized that Octavia must have known he was planning to propose. And she must have been terribly confused as to why there were no pictures on Instagram showing off the ring, or why she hadn’t gotten a phone call from her brother sharing the good news.

Clarke couldn’t quite formulate a response for Octavia, so she just left that message alone. In fact, she even thought about shutting off her phone altogether, until one more text flashed onto her screen. From Murphy this time.

_Trailer’s up!_

Perhaps because she hadn’t slept, it took Clarke a moment to even realize what he was talking about. Trailer? she thought. What trailer? She was picturing a freaking mobile home in her mind until it dawned on her that that was the wrong type of trailer. He meant trailer as in promo. As in a promo for . . .

_Oh, no_. The documentary.

Murphy sent her the link a minute later, and even though she wasn’t sure it was a good idea, she clicked on it. That brought her to his YouTube channel, and there, she saw what he had decided to title the film. _Constant_.

She pressed the play button and stared down at the screen, holding it with shaky hands. The trailer was incredibly well-edited, like one of those Netflix documentaries about some oddly interesting indie topic. Murphy had gotten so much footage, more than she’d even realized. He showed snippets from the interviews he’d done with her and Bellamy, splicing those in with video from the gender reveal party, New Year’s Eve, Bellamy’s birthday, and so much more. In almost every clip, they were laughing, smiling, or kissing. Some were recent, and her belly was huge, but some were older, back when she’d barely even looked pregnant yet. They looked happy in all of them.

The trailer ended with a clip of Bellamy during one of his solo interviews. He sort of had a grin on his face, and off-screen, Murphy said to him, “She’s the love of your life.” His grin expanded, and he agreed, “Yeah. She’s my constant.” Then the trailer smashed to black, and a date slowly appeared on the screen. A date in May, probably Murphy’s intended release date.

_His constant_ , Clarke thought sadly. That meant that she was something to him that did not change. Or at least . . . she had been.

Against her better judgment, she pressed the replay button and tried to hold back the tears. They fell anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy sat at Eligius all afternoon, figuring it was the perfect place to drown his sorrows. In fact, since Dropship had closed down, it was the only place. Clarke was too far along to be working, not that she would have been able to drag herself in for work today anyway, and even Charmaine Diyoza appeared to have taken the day off. So that meant his server was a guy named Joe, and Joe was pretty awesome, because he poured Bellamy drink after drink and didn’t ask any questions.

He realized he must have really looked like a wreck when even Bree showed up and didn’t bother hitting on him. Miller came in for a few minutes, too, but he didn’t have much time for Bellamy. Apparently he was supposed to be meeting Bryan, but Bryan was a no-show. He had his own drama going on, so Bellamy kept his to himself. And he waited until Miller left to order another drink.

He was on his fifth or sixth beer and was finally starting to feel it a bit when someone came and sat down on the stool beside him. Not just anyone, either, but his little sister of all people. She looked dressed to go out later, probably with Lincoln. “Hey,” she said. “Mom told me I might find you here.”

“Mom knows me well,” he said, swirling the remainder of the liquid around in the bottom of his glass.

“What’s going on?” Octavia asked. “She said she’s worried about you.”

He didn’t mean to worry them, either of them, so he lied and said, “I’m fine.”

His sister clearly wasn’t convinced. “What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered.

She still wasn’t buying it, though, and who could blame her? He wasn’t exactly selling it very well. “Clearly something happened,” she said, “because last I talked to you, you were all excited to propose. Did you not go through with it?”

“No, I did.” He downed the rest of his beer, really wishing he was drunk right now. It would’ve been nice to just . . . escape.

“She said no?” Octavia realized incredulously. “Why?”

“Long story.” He didn’t feel like going into detail.

“Well, I’m not gonna study for my finals,” she said. “So I’ve got time.”

If there was anyone he could confide in, it’d be either her or his mom. But Octavia . . . she was young. It wasn’t her job to look after him. “You don’t wanna know,” he told her.

“Pretty sure I do. That’s why I’m here.”

“No, trust me, O . . . you don’t wanna know about this.” He slapped some money down on the counter, probably didn’t include a big enough tip for good old Joe, and sulked towards the door.

“Do you need me to drive you?” she called after him.

“No, I got it.” He wasn’t dizzy or light-headed or anything like that. He was just . . . sad. He’d moved from anger to sadness.

He drove home slowly, not to the beach house but to his mom’s house, knowing that he couldn’t just crash there again tonight without giving her an explanation. And truth be told, he _wanted_ to open up to someone about all of this. He needed to.

When he got home, he found his mother lying on the couch, curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. She jolted awake when he shut the door, though, and sat up.

“Mom?” he choked out.

“Oh, good, you’re back.” She got up and came towards him, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “You’ve had me worried sick all day, Bellamy.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. There were those words again. Except now he was the one saying them. “Mom, I’m not . . . I’m not doin’ so good.”

“What happened?” she asked him softly.

Too much. Too much had happened. Almost too much for him to even make sense of, let alone relay to her. He broke down in tears and could barely even understand himself as he let it all out. “Clarke had an abortion, Mom. In high school. I found out about it last night.”

His mom’s hand came up to her open mouth. She looked shocked. When she lowered it, she carefully went about asking, “Was it . . . was it yours?”

Crying too hard to even speak, he just nodded.

Moving closer to him with open arms, she said, “Come here,” and enveloped him. He fell against her, sobbing, wishing a hug from her could make it all better, just like it had back when he’d been a little boy getting scraped up on the football field. But this wasn’t something a hug from Mom could fix. This was something that was shaking him to his core.

All the strength just vanished from his body as he cried, and she wasn’t able to hold him up. So they sank down on the floor together, and she held him tightly, rocking him back and forth a little, trying to comfort him and soothe him in any way she could. He felt like a complete and utter child in that moment, but he didn’t even care. He was devastated, and he just needed his mom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke wasn’t sure how many times she’d watched the trailer for _Constant_ that day. At least a dozen. It was sort of . . . torture. So maybe that was why she watched it. Murphy bombarded her with texts asking if she thought it was good or not, and she figured he was sending the same texts to Bellamy. Finally, she responded and assured him that it was. Other people seemed to think so, too. The comment section was filled with people saying how excited they were to see it, because it looked like it was going to be really romantic and really sweet. The video got a lot of likes and only a couple dislikes. It got views. People really did want to see that film.

She made excuses to Raven and Harper so she didn’t have to respond to their messages that day. Just a simple _I’m tired_ that seemed to suffice. They didn’t reach out to her much that day, which left Octavia and her mom. Clarke wasn’t sure which one of them came knocking on the door early that evening, but she knew it wasn’t Bellamy. Part of her didn’t even want to get up and answer it, but the knocking didn’t let up.

Peeking out the peephole, she saw her mother standing on the porch, already wiping tears off her cheeks. All day long, she’d been trying to get a hold of her. She’d left voicemail after voicemail that Clarke hadn’t listened to. But when Clarke opened the door, her mom didn’t _say_ anything. She just looked at her sadly and came into the house. Clarke broke down into tears right away, and no words were necessary as she and her mother hugged. They were both crying, both reliving everything. They never talked about it, but it’d always been there. It wasn’t as if they’d ever forgotten or ever could. There would be no more communicating about it through subtle hints or pointed glances anymore, though. No. Now it was out in the open, where it should have been all along.


	58. Chapter 58

_Chapter 58_

Bellamy didn’t feel particularly rested the next day, but he’d finally gotten to the point where he’d fallen asleep for a couple of hours. It was better than nothing. He woke up and got out of bed when his mom did. She had to head into work to make up for taking the day off yesterday. But she still found the time to make him breakfast. Nothing fancy. Just a bowl of cereal. But it was still breakfast, and he hadn’t been motivated to make it himself.

“Do you want anything else to eat?” she asked as she wiped down the kitchen counter.

“No, this is fine.” He was mostly just down to the milk now, but there were still some soggy bits of cereal left. If he got hungry later, he’d find something to eat. She didn’t need to wait on him. She had a job to get to.

His mom, of course, kept being the best mom ever, and instead of grabbing her purse and heading out, she sat down at the table with him and asked, “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged and mumbled, “Got a headache. Not surprising. I spent all day yesterday drinking.” He wasn’t exactly hungover, though, so he wasn’t opposed to a few more drinks today.

“Maybe you should go see Clarke,” his mom suggested, “talk to her.”

He’d thought about that, but he couldn’t envision it going well. “I wouldn’t even know what to say,” he admitted. “Any ideas?”

She sighed. And she didn’t offer any ideas up.

The door opened, and in came Octavia, dressed in either pajamas or sweatpants. He couldn’t really tell. Either she’d just woken up, or she was on her way to work out. “Hey,” she said. “Sneakin’ breakfast, huh? Or did you just stay here all night?”

He didn’t even look up at her.

“Octavia, now’s not really a good time,” their mother said.

“For what? Brother/sister bonding? Didn’t think so.” She plopped down in the chair next to him and tapped her fingers against the table impatiently. She waited a few seconds, then said, “Bellamy, this is driving me crazy. I’m really worried about you. Will you please, _please_ just tell me what’s going on?”

He’d meant it last night when he told her she didn’t wanna know. After he told her, she wouldn’t be able to look at Clarke the same way again.

He met his mom’s eyes for a split second, and she just nodded encouragingly. He knew he had to tell her. Octavia had almost become an aunt back in middle school. She deserved to know.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Clarke, sweetie, wake up. Wake up.”

Clarke didn’t want to wake up. Somehow, she’d managed to have a pretty good dream. She dreamt about Bellamy, just being with him. They weren’t even any _where_ , specifically, but . . . they were together. At least they were in her dream.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she thought about was that they weren’t together. He wasn’t the one waking her up; her mom was. “You need to eat something,” she said softly.

“Mom?” Clarke squeaked out. What was she still doing there? Had she stayed all night?

“I’m here,” her mom said. “Look, I made you some breakfast.” She held up a plate of eggs and pancakes and sausage.

Normally, Clarke wouldn’t have hesitated when it came to food. But her appetite just wasn’t there right now. “I’m not hungry,” she said.

“Honey, you need to take care of yourself,” her mom said. “You’re still pregnant.”

“This time,” she whispered, just loud enough for her mom to hear it. She was still pregnant _this time_.

Her mom exhaled heavily, set the breakfast plate up on the nightstand, and sat down on the floor next to the bed. “Clarke,” she said. “I need to tell Marcus about all of this.”

Clarke had almost forgotten that he didn’t know. Part of her had just assumed that, somewhere along the line, her mom had probably confided in him but made him promise not to ever speak about it. “Go ahead,” she said, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position. Kane’s reaction was one of the ones she wasn’t dreading. He worked with plenty of girls who got pregnant in high school. He wouldn’t judge.

“You can be there if you want,” her mom said.

“No. No.” Even though she knew her future stepdad wouldn’t shun her for this, that didn’t mean she wanted to be there when her mom told him. Besides, maybe it was a conversation that was best for them to have privately. “I’ll have to tell Raven,” she decided. “And Harper. Everybody.” Now that the secret was out, her friends deserved to hear about it from her. “Everybody’s gonna know.” What would they think of her after they found out? The stigma of having an abortion was bad enough, but what if they felt betrayed, too? Bellamy wasn’t the only person she’d kept secrets from.

“That’s not something you have to do today,” her mom said. “What about your father? Have you talked to him?”

Clarke shook her head wordlessly. “Have you?”

“No.” Her mom looked down at her lap, and Clarke knew she was dreading that inevitable conversation. Still, she offered anyway, “Do you want me to call him, tell him what’s going on?”

“Sure,” Clarke said. “But try not to fight about it all over again.” Her unplanned pregnancy had basically ended her parents’ marriage, so she doubted her dad was going to be any happier to talk about it than her mom was. Even after the decision had been made, they’d just continued fighting about it, with her mom insisting that an abortion had been the right thing to do and her dad insisting that it shouldn’t be used as a form of birth control. At first, Clarke had assumed they would eventually stop fighting about it, but they never had. It’d been an ongoing argument all the way up until their divorce.

“Can I ask you something, Mom?” she inquired.

Her mom looked at her with tired eyes. “Anything.”

_Anything?_ That really opened up the door then, so Clarke went right for a big question. “Why didn’t you try to get me to keep that baby?”

Her mom inhaled shakily, blinked back tears, and answered, “I was scared for you. I wasn’t sure what would happen if you did.”

“But you’re a doctor.” Out of all the professions, she assumed that someone in the medical field would be a strong advocate for keeping a baby.

“That’s right, I’m a doctor,” her mom said, “which means I know the statistics. I know that half of teen moms drop out of high school, and most of them don’t have a college degree by the time they’re thirty. I know that twenty-five percent of them have a second child within two years. I didn’t want that for you.”

“Yeah, but adoption . . .” She really wished she’d entertained that idea more, especially now that she actually knew what it was like to feel a baby kick. “Dad tried to convince me to put it up for adoption, but . . .”

“Do you really think you would’ve been able to go through with that?” her mom countered. “Do you think Bellamy would have let you?”

At the time, that was what she’d used to justify her lack of consideration for adoption. Bellamy. The fact that Bellamy would want to raise the baby, whether he was with her or on his own. His own father had never made an effort to know him; he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be an absentee parent.

“Look, Clarke, I’m not trying to say that what we decided to do was right,” her mom acknowledged. “But it wasn’t _wrong_ , either, and I don’t want you feeling like it was wrong. It’s your body. You get to choose what happens to it.”

“But it was a bad a choice,” Clarke argued. “I should’ve just had the baby.” She put her hand on her stomach, and her voice became tearful once again. “I see Avery on the ultrasound, or I feel her kick, and I love her so much. But she wouldn’t even be here if I . . .” What even happened to a baby when it was that small? It wasn’t developed yet, so could it think? Or move? When it got sucked out of her body . . . did it hurt?

“I know,” her mom said. “I know, sweetie. It’s normal and natural to feel guilty, even though you don’t have to.”

“No, this is more than that,” Clarke said. “I feel like a monster.”

“You’re not the only woman who’s had an abortion,” her mother reminded her. “And you are _not_ a monster.”

“But I kept it from Bellamy. We all did. You, me, Dad . . .” That was what differentiated them from the other people who had gone through this. “What’s wrong with us? He didn’t deserve this. He’s a good person. He’s the best person I know. And he’s a good father.” Here he was stepping up in every way imaginable with Avery, after she’d robbed him of that chance with a child of his own. “Face it, Mom,” she said. “We can justify the abortion all we want, but there’s nothing we can tell ourselves to feel better about lying to him. There’s no excuse for that part. There’s not even a good explanation.”

“We were trying to move on,” her mom said. “We thought it was for the best.”

“But it wasn’t.” This secret was ruining everything now, so she hated herself for ever keeping it. “I should’ve told him,” she said regretfully. “It’s not like I ever forgot about it. I tried not to think about, but every once in a while . . . I couldn’t help it.” She’d gotten pretty good at blocking out all thoughts of it, but subconsciously, when she’d been sleeping . . . that’s when they’d yelled at her the loudest. So many dreams, dreams about Bellamy leaving her . . . it’d all been leading up to this.

“Did you ever think about telling him?” her mom questioned.

It would have been nice to lie and say yes, she had. But . . . “No.” The longer she’d kept it a secret, the more vital that secret had become. “But when he proposed . . . I couldn’t keep it from him anymore.” That was another thing she would have loved to be able to say yes to. “God, look at us, Mom. You don’t even like him, and you still feel bad for him.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” her mom corrected.

“Oh, please.”

“No, I’m serious,” she said. “He’s really grown up and proven how much he loves you.”

_He really has_ , Clarke thought. Was there anything that proved a guy’s love more than what Bellamy had done for her?

“It’s just that . . .” Her mom hesitated, biting her lip, then said, “From the second you told me he was back in town, I knew we’d end up here. So if I didn’t welcome him back into our lives with open arms, it wasn’t because of him. It was because of you. Because I wanted to protect you from all of this.”

But this was all her fault. Her mom couldn’t protect her from something she’d created.

Her mother wiped her eyes and got to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said as she left the room. “I’m gonna go make a phone call.”

_To my dad_ , Clarke thought. That was gonna be . . . something. That was a conversation that had the potential to be almost as emotional as her conversation with Bellamy had been.

She forced herself to get up and out of bed, even though it was tempting to just stay there, and she went about her morning routine sluggishly. Bathroom. A quick shower where she didn’t even wash her hair because she didn’t feel like it. Brushing her teeth. Usually, this was the day of the week where Bellamy would have her stand up against the wall and would snap a picture of her belly from the side view.

She only ended up eating a few bites of the breakfast her mother had made for her, so she brought it downstairs and set it on the counter for her mom to eat when she came back inside. She was out on the back porch in the midst of what appeared to be a very heated phone call. She kept whirling her arms and hands and talking very exaggeratedly, so unlike she did when she was in doctor mode. When she was in ex-wife mode, her tone was a lot more . . . agitated.

When the doorbell rang, she stupidly got her hopes up for a moment and thought that maybe it was Bellamy. It wasn’t until she actually pulled open the door and saw his sister standing there that she realized how dumb she was. Bellamy wouldn’t ring the doorbell. He lived there, too. “Octavia,” she said, quickly assessing the look on the younger girl’s face. Octavia wasn’t pleasant in the typical sense, but she usually at least cracked a smile when she saw Clarke or said hi to her or something. But there was no smile and no greeting this time. Instead, Octavia just asked, “Can I come in?”

_He told her_ , Clarke realized. Of course he had. Despite whatever little arguments they may have had, Bellamy and Octavia were as close as siblings could be. Clarke stepped aside, holding the door open, and let Octavia into the house. “I’m guessing you know,” she said, shutting the door.

“Yeah.” Octavia folded her arms, roamed into the kitchen, and said, “Bellamy told me and my mom everything.”

Clarke’s chest tightened. Of course he’d told his mom, too, but . . . Aurora? Aurora knew? _Oh god_ , she thought. That was a woman she had so much respect and admiration for, someone she hoped to emulate in the motherhood department. She hated feeling like she’d let her down, too.

As concerned as she was about what Bellamy’s mom might think about her now, it still paled in comparison to how concerned she was about Bellamy himself. “How’s he doing?” she asked his sister.

Octavia grunted, “He’s a mess, Clarke. Obviously.”

_That makes two of us_ , she thought. But she didn’t say it, because she didn’t want it to seem like she was looking for sympathy. She knew she didn’t deserve that.

“Look, I’m not here to judge you for having an abortion,” Octavia said, her voice low and serious. “We live in a day and age where you have a choice. And if that’s the choice you made, then that’s the choice you made.” Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head in disbelief. “But how could you make it without Bellamy? I mean, here I am, only Aunt Octavia, and _I_ feel devastated. I can’t even imagine how he feels.”

“I . . . I made a mistake,” Clarke stammered.

“Yeah, you’re damn right you did. But then not telling him about it for all these years, especially after you guys got back together . . .” Octavia’s face contorted in . . . what was that look? Disgust? Disapproval? Both? “That wasn’t a mistake; that was a choice,” she said. “A really horrible one.”

Clarke couldn’t even disagree with that. Because it was true. A mistake had been having so much sex in the first place, not making Bellamy wear a condom every single time, even though everyone knew the pill wasn’t a hundred percent effective. What she’d done to Bellamy, though, wasn’t even comparable to that. It wasn’t an accident or something that had just happened because of carelessness. It was a conscious decision she’d made and stuck to for nearly six years now. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I know what I did was wrong. And it’s okay if you never forgive me.”

Octavia hesitated, as if she were thinking about that for a moment, and then she said, “I can forgive you. If Bellamy does.”

Right now, the prospect of getting forgiveness from him seemed . . . almost impossible, or at the very least, far away. “Do you think he will?” she asked, praying, hoping he could find it in his heart to do so.

Octavia’s response wasn’t a particularly reassuring one, but at least it was honest. “I don’t know, Clarke.” She shook her head, walked past Clarke, and let herself out.

Clarke shivered, even though she wasn’t cold. She was scared, though, scared that this was something she and Bellamy couldn’t overcome. It wasn’t like she’d cheated on him. No, that would have been easier than this. This was a deeper betrayal, the kind that could possibly cause her to lose him forever.

_Wouldn’t be the first time_ , she thought sadly. She’d lost him before.

****

_Clarke had never been one for superheroes, or imagining she had superpowers or anything like that. But when it came time for Bellamy to leave, she’d never wanted a superpower more. If she could have, she would have frozen time just to keep him there._

_They stood out in her driveway next to his truck, holding hands, neither one of them saying much. He’d stopped in and said goodbye to her mom and dad, not that they cared. Clarke could practically picture her mom inside right now, dancing with joy. The day she’d been waiting for was finally here. She’d try to act sympathetic when Clarke went back in, but deep down, she’d be celebrating._

_Bellamy’s thumb grazed the back of her hand, a simple touch that somehow felt so electric. She couldn’t imagine holding hands with some other guy, kissing him, dancing with him. Nobody else at school, guy or girl, sparked anything in her like this. And she was starting to get so worried that, once he was gone, nothing would ever spark again._

_“So this is it, huh?” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “It doesn’t feel real.”_

_He breathed out a long sigh, gave her hands a gentle squeeze, and said, “I can call you when I get settled in.”_

_She shook her head. “No, you shouldn’t.” If they started talking on the phone, she was just gonna lull herself into thinking nothing had changed. But he was moving to another state, so of course things were changing. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore,” she reminded him. Technically, this was a break-up._

_“Yeah,” he said, “but you’re still . . . you.”_

_Her breath caught for a moment. When he said things like that, she wondered just how much she meant to him. Just how much did he like her? How close had they gotten? Instead of asking those questions, though, she said, “This is supposed to be a new chapter, though, remember?” He had a whole athletic career ahead of him. And she had . . . junior year._

_“Yeah,” he said unenthusiastically. “Well, I’ll be back for a couple days around Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. We can hang out then.”_

_“Yeah,” she said, although she wasn’t sure what that would entail. “Maybe.” Hanging out would probably lead to sex, and sex would just complicate this whole thing even further. It might delude her into thinking they were strong enough to make the long-distance thing work. Might even make her believe that she could still hold his interest, even when he was surrounded by thousands of beautiful college girls._

_“Maybe,” he agreed. His eyes flittered down to her lips, and then he lowered his head to kiss her. She tried to savor it, the feel of his mouth against hers, the taste of his lips. Because it had to last._

_When he pulled back from the kissed, he managed a half-smile and asked, “Are you glad you lost your virginity to me?”_

_As sad as she was, that made her laugh. Just a little. “Best decision I ever made.” Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that it would end up amounting to . . . this. Whatever this was._

_He kissed her again, a bit more insistently this time, and it was the kind of kiss that could have gone on for hours. If they’d still had hours to spend together. Which they didn’t. He had to get home so his mom could drive him to the airport. He had a plane to catch. He had places to be._

_As hard as it was to tear her mouth away from his, that was exactly what she did. “You have to go,” she told him._

_Eyes staring straight into hers, he echoed, “I have to go,” slowly. But he still didn’t move. “Right.”_

_For a moment, she wondered if he was reconsidering. And she felt horrible for wanting him to reconsider, for wanting him to decide that what he had going here with her was more important than anything UCF could promise him. But for a moment, that was exactly what she wanted._

_Gradually, his hands slipped from hers, until only their fingertips were touching. He stepped back, and even those came apart. He kept his eyes on her the whole time he opened up the door to his truck and stepped up onto the ledge to climb inside. “Bye, Princess,” he said quietly, still never breaking the eye contact._

_She couldn’t say goodbye back. She couldn’t say anything. The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak, so she just forced a small smile and waved goodbye to him._

_Finally, he lowered his head, got into his truck, and shut the door. She stepped back, watching him closely as he jammed the key into the ignition and twisted it to start the truck up. With one last glance at her in his side-view mirror, he shifted into gear and drove out of her driveway. He paused for just a second or two once he was out on the road, but then he continued forward._

_Clarke stepped out onto the street, watching him go, watching the truck get smaller and smaller as it got farther away. She wondered if he was looking at her in the rearview mirror, or if he was just looking ahead now. It’d be better for him to just look ahead. And not look back._

_When she could no longer see the truck, that was when it hit her that he was really gone. And sure, he’d come back whenever he could, but those would be really short breaks. And he’d need to spend time with his mom and his sister, too._

It’s over, _she thought, staggering back from the road._ It’s really over.

_Pathetic as it may have been, she sat down right in the middle of that driveway and looked down at her hands. Hands that had been all over him last night and this morning while his had been all over her. They were just empty now, and she’d probably never be able to touch him like that again._

She _felt touched. Not just physically, but . . . emotionally, too. On the inside._

_Her body shook, and she began to cry._

****

Clarke wiped tears from her eyes, pissed at herself for this inability to stop crying. Pregnancy hormones didn’t exactly mesh well with huge life drama. She didn’t even know how she had any more tears left at this point, but she did.

When her mom came in from the back porch, she pulled herself together as quickly as she could and asked, “What did Dad say?”

“He wants to talk with you,” her mom replied. “But I told him you’d call him later.”

_Thank God_ , Clarke thought. She was too worked up to talk to him right now.

“He’s not happy with me. Imagine that.” Her mom rolled her eyes and made her way over to the counter, where she picked up one of the now cold sausage links and took one bite out of it. “I saw Octavia was here,” she said.

“Yeah.” At least that was one more uncomfortable conversation down. “She and Aurora know.”

Her mom nodded slowly and decided, “Then I think it’s time I go home and tell my fiancé. Are you gonna be okay for a while?”

“Yeah.” She wasn’t incapable of taking care of herself just because she was pregnant and . . . in crisis. “I think I’m gonna go tell Raven.”

“Are you sure?” her mother asked.

“Yeah. No more secrets.” It was time to rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak, and inform everyone who was close to her that she’d been hiding something for a very long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Raven alternated between sitting down on her couch and listening and then standing up so she could pace around while Clarke revealed everything. She just took it all in and didn’t say anything until Clarke was done talking. Then, she sat back down on the couch, covered her mouth up with her hands, and whispered, “Oh my god,” in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Clarke was expecting the same reaction from Harper, who, if she was home today, was the next stop on the honesty tour.

“Oh my . . . _god_ , Clarke,” Raven gasped, staring at her with a gaping mouth. “I had no idea.”

“Only my parents knew,” Clarke reminded her. Anything else, she would have told Raven. But some things were just too personal even for a best friend.

Raven dragged one hand through her hair, shaking her head in astonishment. “Sorry, I—I don’t really know how to react,” she admitted.

“You can be angry with me. Or disappointed,” Clarke assured her. “It’s fine.”

Raven didn’t deny being either one of those things, but she didn’t get upset, either. “Is Bellamy disappointed?” she asked.

“Bellamy’s furious,” Clarke replied. “And heartbroken. And probably never gonna be able to forgive me. Not that I deserve forgiveness.”

“Bellamy loves you,” Raven said.

“Not right now he doesn’t.” And she couldn’t blame him at all for that.

Raven sighed heavily and kept shaking her head. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Clarke, this is bad,” she said. “Really bad. I’m kinda shocked right now.” Her brow furrowed, and she seemed to be thinking about things, maybe wondering if there were any clues she could have picked up on, any hints or signs. “That’s why you changed so much junior year, though, isn’t it?” she said. “Why you withdrew from things. You quit cheer because . . .”

“There wasn’t much to feel cheerful about,” Clarke filled in. “I wanted out of the high school spotlight. I just wanted to . . . forget. So I threw myself into the academic stuff. Didn’t date. Finished out high school on a studious note instead of a social one.” She just hadn’t wanted to draw attention to herself, but that hadn’t stopped people from talking about her. In fact, her last two years of high school had actually been . . . pretty miserable. And very lonely.

“I always wondered,” Raven said. “But I just figured it was all because you were missing Bellamy. But turns out, you were . . .”

“Missing Bellamy’s baby?” That hurt to say. Bellamy had made a baby. With her. And as much as she _did_ believe in a woman’s right to choose . . . she really had ended up getting rid of it, hadn’t she?

“Oh, my mind is, like, blown right now,” Raven said, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “I should’ve known. I’ve been an awful friend.”

“No, there was no way you could’ve known,” Clarke said. “I had the procedure done before I ever started to show. And my parents and I were really good at not talking about it. Too good.”

“So . . .” Raven gave her a confused look. “So what made you finally decide to tell him then? Was it just too much?”

Clarke looked down at her lap, ashamed that she’d let it get this far, let it get to this point. “He proposed,” she said, her voice cracking on the word. “I had to say no. And then I had to tell him why I said no.”

“Oh god, Clarke.” Raven pressed her whole face into her hands, maybe to conceal the tears in her eyes that Clarke had already noticed. When she lifted her head, they were still there, shining. “What’re you gonna do?”

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I have no--” But before she could finish, into the apartment walked Murphy, a box of pizza in one hand, soda in the other.

“Hey, look who it is!” he exclaimed. “My leading lady.” He set the pizza down on the coffee table, took a gurgling swig of his soda, and babbled excitedly, “Are you seeing the reaction to this trailer? It’s already the fourth most-viewed video I’ve ever put out. And it’s only been out for a day. I’m telling you, people are stoked. It’s gonna be huge.”

When he mentioned that trailer, all she could think about was Bellamy calling her his constant. The perfect words to end the perfect movie trailer about the perfect couple, right?

“What’s wrong?” Murphy asked, alternating questioning looks between her and Raven.

_Poor guy_ , Clarke thought. He had no idea what a shit-storm he’d walked into with this documentary. But he was about to find out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, Bellamy stood out on the beach, looking at the reflection of the moon on the water. He hadn’t intended to stay at the beach house this long, but when he’d found that Clarke wasn’t there, he’d decided to just go stand out there. And think. And remember.

Months ago, he and Clarke had had a conversation right out there on that beach. An intense one. He remembered it vividly, because he’d been trying to convince her to be his girlfriend again, to _let_ him be her boyfriend and _let_ him step in as a father figure for her baby. But she’d been resistant. And now he knew why.

_“For the past five years, I’ve tried to . . . forget. And move on.”_

Those words rang out in his head, louder now than they had been at the time. He knew now what she was referring to, but he hadn’t known then.

_“This isn’t fair to you. I can’t ask you to do this.”_

No wonder she hadn’t thought it was fair.

_“You make one choice, and it can just—it can influence_ everything.”

She hadn’t been talking about his choice to be with her now; she’d been talking about the choice she’d made when she was sixteen. The choice to have an abortion. Maybe even the choice to start sleeping with him in the first place.

_“We can’t just be together the way we used to be. We were just kids, and . . . We were so stupid, Bellamy. We were_ so _stupid.”_

It all felt so obvious now, but it hadn’t been at the time.

_“I don’t deserve this.”_

He kicked at the sand with his shoes, wondering what other things she’d said could have tipped him off. There were probably so many things, things he’d forgotten about or just not been paying close enough attention to. But even if he had been paying attention, he would never have imagined that she was hiding something so big, so damaging.

Staring at the ocean wasn’t helping him clear his head. If anything, it was just making him feel like an emo son of a bitch, so he decided to head back inside and get what he had come for. Some clothes. Shoes. Things that he could take home and put in his high school bedroom.

As he was walking in the back door, Clarke walked in the front. They both stopped when they saw each other, frozen like two deer caught in the headlights. She was the first to say anything when she said, “Hey.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’re here.”

He didn’t want to give her the impression that he was staying, so he said, “I just came to get a few things.” He’d already put a few things out in the car, so he didn’t have to run upstairs and get any more clothes. He was fine.

“Octavia came to see me,” she revealed to him. “It’s good that you told her and your mom. They deserve to know.”

Yeah, they sure as hell did. His mom would have been a grandmother right now if . . . things had gone differently. And Octavia would have had a niece or nephew. The biological kind.

“I told Raven and Murphy and Harper, too,” she said. “So they might call you or try to see you.”

“Yeah, I’m really a sight to see,” he muttered sarcastically. He hadn’t showered in two days, and he was still wearing the same clothes he’d slept in last night.

“Well, you can stay for a while,” she said, “and . . . maybe we could talk.”

“No, I can’t . . . I can’t do that right now,” he said, shooting that idea down right away. Eventually, he’d get to that point, but he was still trying to get a handle on how he was feeling. If they tried to talk right now, it wouldn’t go well.

She frowned sadly. “You can’t talk to me, but you can go talk to my mom?”

“It’s simple with her, okay?” he said, not bothering to point out that he’d fought with her more than he’d actually just talked. “With her, I can just be angry. But with you . . . it’s different.” Part of him just wanted to put his arms around her and hug her and hold her and tell her everything would be alright. But another part could barely even stand to look at her. “And seeing you right now,” he said, “pregnant with someone else’s child . . .” He stared at her stomach for a few seconds, imagining what it would have been like to see her carrying _his_ baby. “That really doesn’t help,” he said, walking past her on his way out the door. He felt like an ass for saying that, though, and when he got in the car, he actually debated going back inside and apologizing for it. Maybe it wouldn’t have even been an apology to her as much as it would have been to Avery. Avery hadn’t done anything wrong. None of this was her fault.


	59. Chapter 59

_Chapter 59_

Since Clarke wasn’t really sleeping, whoever was knocking on the door that morning didn’t really wake her up. She was able to answer the door quickly since she’d been downstairs in the recliner, covered by blankets, lost in a multitude of thoughts brought on by good old insomnia.

When she opened the door, she was glad to that it was Harper, and Harper had a sack in her hand. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Despite everything she had learned about Clarke’s past in the last twenty-four hours, Harper still smiled at her and asked, “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Clarke stepped aside and hastily tried to tidy up the coffee table as Harper entered the house. She’d left last night’s dishes just lying about. “Sorry about the mess,” she apologized.

“It’s fine,” Harper said, shutting the front door. “Did you sleep down here?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because it takes a lot of energy for me to go up and down the stairs these days,” Clarke explained, setting her dinner plate and silverware down in the sink. “Besides, the bed just . . . doesn’t feel the same without Bellamy.”

Harper looked down at her feet and mumbled, “Right.” Her smile expression morphed into a sad one, just for a moment, but in typical Harper McIntyre fashion, she snapped herself out of it quickly. “Well, I brought you something,” she said, handing the sack she’d brought in to Clarke. “Graduation gear. They decided to get us new robes and hats.”

Clarke took a look inside and lifted out a maroon gown. “I totally forgot about this,” she said. Just a week or so ago, she’d tried on her black cap and gown. That probably would have been more slimming than this new color would be.

“Did you hear they’re moving it up a week?” Harper asked.

“They are?” Clarke was so out of the loop. She had checked her school email in days, nor did she care to. “Why?”

“Weather forecast,” Harper replied. “All the professors are doing final exams a week early.”

That seemed a little drastic for a forecast that might not even turn out to be true. “It’s not even hurricane season,” Clarke said.

“No, but it can still get bad. And I’m not complaining. One less week of classes,” Harper said. “And hey, now you can graduate before you have the baby. Weren’t you gonna be cutting it close?”

“Yeah.” Clarke touched her stomach and agreed. “This is better.” She’d been starting to doubt that she’d make it to her graduation ceremony. Some moms could stay active up until the very last week of their pregnancy, but she did not feel like one of those moms. “Well, thanks for bringing me my stuff,” she said.

“Yeah, no problem,” Harper said. “I wanted to check up on you, too, see how you’re doing.”

She wasn’t doing very well, but it was nice of her friend to be concerned. “I’m okay,” she said.

Harper nodded, seeming to accept that, and then told her, “Raven’s probably gonna come by later.”

“That’s sweet,” Clarke said, “but you know, you guys don’t have to be so nice to me.”

Harper made a face. “Clarke, we’re your friends.”

“Yeah, but . . .” That didn’t mean that they couldn’t be pissed at her. “I know what I did was wrong,” she acknowledged. “You don’t have to act like everything’s normal.”

“Well . . .” Harper shrugged. “We’ve all made mistakes.”

“Yeah, but have you ever aborted a baby without telling the father?”

Harper grimaced.

“Didn’t think so,” Clarke said. What was Harper’s biggest mistake, messing up in a dance? It was nice of her to try to empathize, but what she’d done was on another level. “Look, I know you’re more pro-life and you don’t agree with what I did,” Clarke said, “so I know you must be disgusted by me.”

“No.” Harper shook her head. “No, not even. I didn’t even know you back then. And I don’t know what it’s like to be pregnant. So I’m not gonna judge you for having an abortion, Clarke.”

“Then judge me lying to Bellamy,” Clarke told her. “Please.” Still, though, even when she was practically begging for some judgement, she didn’t see any in her friend’s eyes. “You can’t just let me off the hook with this,” she said. “You and Raven . . . you guys have to be upset with me.”

“Is that what you wanna hear?” Harper said. “We are, and we both feel horrible for Bellamy. But we’re not gonna stop being your friends over this. No way.” Reaching out, she placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “This is when you need your friends the most.”

In a way, it was comforting to hear that. But it was also frustrating. Because Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that what she needed and what she deserved were very different things.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy wasn’t sure how he was gonna make it into work tomorrow, how he was going to do his job when all he felt like doing was getting wasted. He had yet to _truly_ drown his sorrows over all the shit he was dealing with. A couple drinks here and there wasn’t getting the job done.

He went back to Eligius Sunday afternoon, not surprised to see that it was mostly older men there. It was the post-church crowd. After they went and worshipped, they came here for good old boy time. Clarke said they usually stayed a while, too.

He had nothing in common with them to converse about, and they took up most of the counter space, so Bellamy sat down in a booth instead. The one he used to come sit in when he wanted an excuse to be there while Clarke was working. He ordered a burger and a drink, and he’d already ordered another drink before his burger arrived.

As he was working on his second bottle, the door chimed, and in walked someone who was definitely not one of the good old boys. Miller waved to all of the men, though, friends of his dad’s, most likely, and made his way straight to Bellamy. “Dude,” he said, sliding into the other side of the booth. “What the fuck’s goin’ on?”

“What do you mean?” Bellamy asked.

“I just ran into Roma, who apparently still hasn’t accepted the fact that I’m gay, because she tried to hit on me,” Miller started in. “Anyway, when she finally figured out it wasn’t gonna work, she started askin’ about you, about what you’re up to. And she starts talkin’ all this shit about Clarke. I mean _ridiculous_ rumors, man.”

A few days ago, Bellamy would have rolled his eyes at that. But not anymore. “What was she saying?”

“Just . . . stuff about high school,” Miller answered vaguely. “About Clarke doing something in high school. Something she’d never do.”

_Like an abortion?_ Bellamy wondered. Was that what Roma was spreading around?

Hesitantly, quietly, Miller asked, “That is just a rumor, isn’t it?”

_Wish it was_ , Bellamy thought. But instead of saying anything, he just took another drink.

Miller gripped the edge of the table and said, “Holy shit.”

“Did she say how she found out?” Bellamy asked him. He kind of wanted to know the source.

“No, she just said she heard it from someone.” Miller still had a look of shock on his face, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You mean to tell me that’s all true? Clarke had a . . .” He trailed off and shook his head, experiencing the same immediate denial Bellamy had felt. “No way. No, she wouldn’t.”

“She did,” Bellamy confirmed. He wasn’t gonna lie to one of his best friends.

“What?” Miller gasped. “What the hell? Was it . . .”

“Mine, yeah,” Bellamy said. Yep, it’d been his baby.

“What the fuck, man?” Miller rubbed his head, looking stressed, even though it wasn’t his own drama. When the door chimed again, he looked that way and said to Bellamy, “Hey, isn’t that . . .”

Bellamy looked over and saw none other than Jake Griffin approaching the bar. He sat down on the end and waved bartender Joe over.

“Her dad,” Bellamy said. From what he gathered, it was a rare thing to see Jake set foot in Arkadia these days, so Bellamy knew he couldn’t pass up the chance to give the guy a piece of his mind. “We’ll talk later,” he told his friend. Bottle in hand, he walked up to the counter and stood next to Jake, who looked surprised to see him.

“Bellamy,” Jake said.

Bellamy didn’t even bother to greet him. He watched as Joe poured him a shot and said, “Drinking. Not a bad idea if I do say so myself.”

“I’m not staying long,” Jake said. He thanked Joe for the shot and quickly downed it.

“Are you on your way outta town or into it?” Bellamy asked him.

“In,” he replied. “I need to see my daughter.”

“Yeah, I saw her last night,” Bellamy said. “She looks guilty. Kinda like you, Jake.”

Jake looked down at his empty shot glass, no longer the strong, confident guy Bellamy usually saw him as. Sitting at that bar, he looked just as pathetic as the rest of them. “I never wanted her to have an abortion,” he said quietly, not that any of the grandpa types around him had good enough hearing to overhear. “Believe it or not, I fought hard for her to have that child. Fought so hard it tore my marriage apart.”

Bellamy gave him a long, hard look and grunted. “So this is your strategy? Play the victim?”

“No.”

“Because you’re not the victim here, Jake. I am,” he growled angrily. “And so is that kid. _My_ kid.” He didn’t have any sympathy for this guy and his broken marriage. So what if fighting about Clarke’s decision had caused him and his horrible wife to get a divorce? They were better off without each other anyway. “How would you feel if Abby had aborted Clarke, huh?” he challenged, just to put things in perspective. “And you never even got to know her or have any input whatsoever.”

“I’d be devastated,” Jake readily admitted.

“And how would you feel if she kept it from you for years? How would you feel if her whole family kept it from you?” He felt like there had been this ongoing effort to keep the wool pulled over his eyes, and he resented them for it so much. “You can’t blame that one all on Abby, can you?”

“No,” Jake said with a sigh. “We all decided together never to tell anyone.”

It sounded like a fucking conspiracy, and maybe it was. They’d _conspired_ against him. “You know, I thought I liked you,” Bellamy snarled. “You were decent to me. You didn’t treat me like shit.”

“That’s because I respect you, Bellamy.”

He laughed angrily at that. “Oh, that’s a good one. You _respect_ me? Yeah, you respect me enough to keep me in the dark.” That wasn’t respect; it was the opposite. “You gave me your blessing to marry your daughter, but you knew about all of this the whole time. Did you know it was gonna come out when it did? Did you know she was gonna turn me down right when I got down on one knee and proposed to her? Did you know it was all gonna blow up?”

“To be honest, Bellamy, I thought we were done with it,” Jake said. “And I was glad. Because when Clarke . . . did what she did . . . it put a strain on our relationship, too, as father and daughter. We’ve been rebuilding it for years. And this year was the first time it felt normal again.”

_There he goes again_ , Bellamy thought, _trying to get sympathy_. Any damage done to his relationship with his daughter was Jake’s own fault, though. He’d chosen to move away. It wasn’t like his divorce had mandated that. “You shouldn’t have told me I could marry her,” he said through clenched teeth. There was no excuse. It didn’t matter if he’d thought it was all over. There was no fucking excuse.

Jake surprised him with what he said next: “But I wanted you to. I wanted you to marry her.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but be confused. Even though he’d gotten the guy’s blessing or permission or whatever they wanted to call it, part of him had assumed that Jake still looked at him and saw the guy from high school who had changed Clarke forever. Especially now that he knew he’d gotten her pregnant.

“She’s my little girl, Bellamy,” Jake said, his voice full of sentimental emotion. “Whatever she’s done, whatever decisions she’s made . . . she’s still my little girl, and I love her. I want her to be happy. And she’s never been happier than when she’s with you, so . . .” He looked down at the empty shot glass again, blinking back tears this time.

_Well, I’ve never been happier than when I was with her_ , he thought. But right now, he wasn’t happy. Right now, he was just miserable.

Two guys from down at the other end of the bar had gotten up and come their way, and they were all smiles as the said, “Jake, good to see you.”

Jake’s tone shifted when he said, “Hey, Howard. Jim.”

“What brings you back to town?”

“Oh, just here for some family business.”

Sensing that their conversation was over, Bellamy grabbed his bottle and headed out. He didn’t even care if he was technically breaking some open container law by walking out of there with a drink in his hand. Although knowing his luck, some cop would spot him and give him a ticket.

He got in his car and managed to get home without incident. Of course, he’d polished off his drink by the time he got there, and he’d already finished everything left in his mom’s fridge. So drowning his sorrows was once again going to be impossible unless he went to the store and bought some booze himself.

He didn’t feel like going anywhere, though, especially not if word had gotten around about what he and Clarke were dealing with now. How Roma knew was a mystery, but he was certain it hadn’t come from his mom or Octavia. It was possible that someone at the hospital had gossiped about it. His argument with Abby had gotten pretty loud, after all.

Bellamy sulked to his bedroom and stood in the doorway, looking inward at the space. It was so . . . high school. It wasn’t him anymore. But luckily his mom hadn’t changed it, otherwise he _really_ wouldn’t feel like he had a home right now.

Although it wouldn’t have been the first time he felt that way.

****

_Even indoors, Orlando was hot. Bellamy felt it the second he stepped off the plane. He definitely wasn’t on the coast anymore._

_That whole airport was Disney-themed. He thought about stopping at some of the stores and picking up something for Octavia, but he thought better of it when he got a look at the price tags. Maybe, though, if he was able to save up some money the next couple of years, he could take his family to Disney World, just for a day or two. They’d never really been able to do the whole family vacation thing before. Of course, they’d be able to afford a lot of vacations if he made it to the NFL._

_There was no one from UCF there to greet him or make a big deal out of his arrival, and he felt dumb for expecting anything of the sort. He was a college athlete, not a celebrity. Hell, he wasn’t even a starter yet. It was back to being a freshman for him, bottom of the totem pole. Except he’d never actually been the bottom of the totem pole in Arkadia. He’d always had . . . notoriety._

_He went and picked up his bags, then proceeded to get overwhelmed as he tried to figure out the cheapest way to get to campus. There were buses and airport shuttles and Ubers and taxis, all things they didn’t have in a small town. He ended up just hopping in a taxi, but trying to tell the driver where to go was easier said than done, because the guy barely spoke any English. It’d been two years since Bellamy had taken a Spanish class, and even then, it wasn’t like he’d actually studied or done well at it. Thankfully, modern technology made everything a little easier, and when Bellamy showed the driver a picture of his assigned dorm on his phone, the driver nodded, said, “Si, si,” and started driving._

_The drive wasn’t exactly a short one. In Arkadia, you could get anywhere in ten minutes, fifteen at the most. But it took about a half an hour to get to campus, and the driver brought him to the wrong dorm, which took up even more time. Finally, they got to the right place, and Bellamy handed over nearly all the cash in his wallet to pay for the ride. He didn’t know what was acceptable to give as a tip, but he did know this driver didn’t deserve a huge one, so he gave him two extra bucks, said, “Gracias,” because despite how bad he’d been at Spanish, even he knew that meant “thank you,” and got his own luggage out of the trunk._

_He recognized this living community from one of the campus tours he’d taken, but there had been so many people there in the fall. Now that it was summer, it was kind of . . . dead. Although there were some especially tan people playing on a sand volleyball court. He ended up having to interrupt their game to ask them where he should go check in, and they directed him to the main office._

_While he waited for his room key, he spotted what looked like a rec center or gym of some sort right across the street. That made sense why a lot of athletes apparently lived in this area then. And he was pretty sure he smelled chlorine from a swimming pool, so he was gonna have to go find that later. It wouldn’t be as fun as swimming in the ocean, though._

_“Alright, here’s your room key, Bellamy,” the woman behind the desk said, handing him an electronic card. “Welcome to UCF.”_

_“Thanks.” He loaded himself up with all his bags and suitcases again and checked the room number on the card. Oh, great. He had to haul this stuff up to the third floor._

_He took a couple of wrong turns, but eventually, he found his dorm room. Most of the rooms were suite style, but he could tell that his was not. Probably because it’d been a last-minute thing, him showing up there that summer. He had to take what he could get._

_When he opened the door, he saw a skinny kid with jet black hair sitting at his desk on his computer, his back to Bellamy. He didn’t turn around or anything._

_“Hey,” Bellamy said, kind of pissed that he was already going to have to deal with a roommate._

_The guy still didn’t turn around, though, and Bellamy understood why when he spotted the headphones in his ears._

_“Hey!” he greeted, louder. That got the other guy’s attention. He turned around but didn’t take out his headphones. His hair fell in front of his eyes, and all Bellamy could think was that he looked like one of those punks from mid-2000s emo bands. Octavia had gone through an emo phase, and this kid, with his eyeliner and piercings looked like he’d fit right in with all the musicians she’d once listened to._

Don’t judge him, _Bellamy told himself. Hell, Jasper was a stereotypical nerd, but he’d still become a good friend. “I’m Bellamy,” he introduced himself. “I’m your new roommate.”_

_His roommate didn’t say hi, didn’t even bother to introduce himself. Instead, he just nodded, turned up the volume on his music, and turned back around to face his computer. He looked like he was on some band’s website._

Well, so much for pleasantries, _Bellamy thought, lugging all his things into the room. The door shut behind him, and he set everything down, grateful to not have to carry it anymore. No need to hit the gym today. He’d already done some lifting._

_Since his roommate clearly had no interest in him, he looked around the space. Very small, although he was used to that with his bedroom back home. The bed looked long enough, but it also looked . . . uncomfortable. Maybe just because it was only mattress right now and didn’t have any pillows or blankets on it. His whole side of the room was blank, empty, vacant. Nothing on the walls, nothing in the closet or on the desk. But his roommate’s side was adorned with posters. Not of emo bands, as it turned out, but heavy metal bands. Like Slipknot._

_Great._

_Sensing that this wasn’t going to be somebody he could just hang out and talk about sports with, Bellamy decided not to make an effort with his roommate, and instead, he sat down on the bed, took out his phone, and thought about calling his mom to let her know he’d gotten there. Or maybe . . . maybe he could call Clarke. Even though she’d told him not to._

_He swiped through the names on his phone, stopping on hers, and he debated whether or not to click on it. He could ask her if she knew anything about Slipknot just so he and his roommate had something to discuss._

Or I could just leave her alone, _he thought. It was what they’d agreed to do, let each other start fresh so they weren’t tied down. She was probably hanging out with Raven right now, or doing something with her family. She didn’t need him bothering her._

_He sighed, set his phone aside, and looked again at his empty side of the room._ Home sweet home, _he thought grumpily. Hopefully it’d be better once he got settled in._

****

Bellamy sat down on the floor, right there in the doorway, leaning back against the frame, almost wishing he had to go to work today. It would’ve been something to do, at least, something to distract himself from how fucked up he felt. But since he didn’t have to work, instead, he sat, feeling pretty alone. And lost.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Thanks for hanging out with me today,” Clarke said as Harper walked out the door.

Turning back around, her friend asked, “Feel any better?”

“A little bit.” She still wasn’t doing backflips or anything, but at least having Harper around had gotten her mind on some other things.

“I meant what I said, Clarke. Raven and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said. “That means a lot.” Lesser friends would have abandoned her right now, left her to fend for herself and sort out this mess she’d created all on her own.

“In fact,” Harper said, her eyes traveling sideways as a car pulled to a stop on the other side of the street, across from hers, “if you want me to stick around a little longer . . .”

Clarke didn’t even need to see those familiar waves of dark hair to know that Finn was paying her a visit. She recognized that car, and the sound of its dilapidated muffler, right away. “What’s he doing here?” she grumbled as he got out.

“I can stay,” Harper offered again.

“No. It’s okay. I can deal with him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Harper had done more than her fair share of friend duty today, so Clarke wanted to let her off the hook. “Thanks.” Besides, when it came to her and Finn, it was probably best if everyone else was out of dodge.

Harper gave her a quick hug, then stepped down off the front steps and pointedly ignored Finn on the way to her car. He did said, “Hey, Harper. You look great,” but her only response was, “You look like an ass.” Clarke had to stifle a laugh.

Once Harper was gone, Finn came up to the front door as if he expected to be let in, but Clarke stood in the doorway stubbornly. “What do you want?” she demanded.

“Well, I heard,” he said, as if that somehow explained what the hell he was doing there.

“Heard what?”

“About you,” he said. “And Bellamy.”

_Me and Bellamy?_ Her stomach tightened with nervousness. “What exactly did you hear?”

He made a face. “Oh, come on, Clarke, everyone’s talking about it. Everybody knows.”

_No_ , she thought, her bottom lip starting to tremble. _Everybody doesn’t know. How could everybody know?_

“Kinda ironic that you wouldn’t even consider an abortion when I suggested it to you,” he said, “even though you’d already had one.”

_Oh my god._ He wasn’t just talking out his ass then. He _did_ know. Somehow, some way, he’d found out. “Who told you?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“Atom.”

“Your—your _roommate_?” she sputtered. How did his roommate know?

“He heard about it from someone else,” Finn said. “You know how small towns are. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

But they weren’t supposed to know _this_. This was so personal, so private.

Finn just wouldn’t let up, though. He had his ammunition, and he was using it. “I just think it’s kinda crappy that you try to make me out to be a deadbeat dad when you haven’t exactly been mother of the year, now have you?”

She was trying, though. She was trying to be a good mom this time around to make up for last time. Didn’t that count for anything?

Feeling mortified, imagining all the gossip that was flying around about her, Clarke went back inside and slammed the door in his face. Her hands shook, and her heart pounded. It wasn’t supposed to have happened this way. No one was ever supposed to know, let alone _everyone_.

Luckily, Finn didn’t stick around. He’d gotten his jabs in and must have been satisfied with that. But Clarke still felt shook after he left. If he and his loser roommate knew, then that meant people from high school knew. Former classmates, teachers . . . whether they’d liked or disliked her, they now all had inside knowledge into just how screwed up she’d been once. She imagined word getting out to Bree, who’d always needlessly been a bitch to her but now finally had a way to claim she was better. She thought about what her ex-boyfriend Wells would say once he found out, because Wells had no flaws, and he’d have a hard time believing he’d ever dated someone who could . . . do this. And then there was someone like Mrs. Sydney, her old principal, who undoubtedly had had plenty of conversations with her staff members back in the day about how that Clarke Griffin girl was going to end up pregnant if she wasn’t careful with Bellamy Blake. Well, she _hadn’t_ been careful, and now everyone knew.

Though she hadn’t been planning on leaving the house that day, Clarke did end up going to her mom’s house shortly after Finn stopped by. It rapidly became apparent that her abortion and subsequent lies were the hot topic all over town. Her phone started to ring incessantly with calls from people who had heard and were concerned about her. Hopefully that meant they were calling Bellamy and checking in on him, too.

Her mother was right outside planting flowers when she got there. She looked so Stepford and wholesome that Clarke almost felt bad about ruining her afternoon. Almost. “Mom!” she said loudly as she got out of the car.

“Clarke? What’re you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Honey, you need to rest,” her mom said, getting to her feet. “You’ve still got two weeks of this pregnancy left.”

“Trust me, I would love to be resting right about now,” she said, “but I can’t, because guess what? _Everybody_ knows.”

Her mother stiffened. “About what?”

“What do you think?” she spat. “I just got a phone call from Lexa. She heard. And Jasper and Maya and Anya, who I don’t even like, and . . . god, even Finn knows!”

Abby hung her head.

“So who told them, huh?” Clarke yelled. “‘cause I sure didn’t.”

“I didn’t, either,” her mom said.

“Well, someone had to.”

“Maybe it was Bellamy,” her mom suggested. “Aren’t he and Jasper friends?”

“Yeah, but--”

“And isn’t he friends with Lexa?”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t let Finn find out.” As far as she knew, the only two people he’d told were his mom and his sister. And sure, Octavia had probably told Lincoln, but Lincoln was, like, the most trustworthy guy on the planet. He wouldn’t tell anyone. That left only one place where the information could have sprung such a leak. “So who’d you tell, Mom?”

“I told Marcus,” she said.

“Who else?” There had to be someone else, because Kane wouldn’t say anything. Her mom didn’t admit to telling more people, but to Clarke, it just seemed obvious. “You told Callie, didn’t you?”

Her mom took off her gardening gloves and dropped them down onto the ground. “Honey, she’s my best friend.”

“No, she’s not! She’s a bitch, Mom!” Clarke groaned in distress, dragging her hands through her hair. “As if it isn’t bad enough that she wants your man, now she wants to humiliate your daughter. You know it was her. You know she told everyone. No one else would’ve.”

“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” her mother apologized tearfully.

“You know what? Now I know why Bellamy got really tired of hearing those words.” In that moment, she wanted her mom to take that sorry and shove it up her ass. She’d had no right to tell Callie Cartwig, a known gossip-monger, something so personal. Now everything they were dealing with was just even worse, because it was out there as public information. Most people wouldn’t act like Finn. They’d be polite enough not to say anything about it. But some people would. Some people reveled in the downfall of others.

She left her mom crying on the front lawn, in no mood to try to console her, and headed back home, feeling like she needed to relax. Her Braxton-Hicks contractions often worsened when she was stressed, and she was _super_ stressed out right now. No need to go into actual labor on top of all of this.

Unfortunately, the stress just kept piling on, because when she pulled up to her house, she saw her one of her dad’s expensive cars there. He was ringing the doorbell, but he spun around when she got out of the car.

“Great,” she muttered. “Yeah. Let’s just get all the parental arguments out of the way in one day.”

“I’m not here to argue,” he said. “I’m here to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m . . . a wreck, Dad,” she said, flapping her arms against her sides. “How else would I be?”

He moved towards her, arms open as if he wanted to hug her. “Come here.”

“No. I can’t hug you right now,” she said, pushing past him so she could get into the house.

“Why not?”

She whirled around in the doorway and said, “Because I took away your grandchild, remember?” During their worst fight about her decision, he’d told her that, if she had an abortion, he’d never be able to forgive her for it. And those words still lingered.

“You’re about to give me another one,” he pointed out.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t make up for it. Ask anyone—literally _anyone_ , because apparently everyone knows—and I’m sure they’d tell you . . . it doesn’t make up for it.” She backed into the house, flinging her purse and keys onto the recliner, and sat down on the arm of the couch, holding one hand to her stomach.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel bad about this,” he said as he came inside. “We all should; we all do. But you’re about to be a mother, and I will not let you beat yourself down over this.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she cried. “Dad, I—I betrayed the one person in the world who means the most to me. I lied to him. He doesn’t trust me. And he has no reason to.” Trust was the foundation of any good relationship, and she and Bellamy had lost that now. All because of her.

“I saw him today,” her father said.

“What?” Right away, she had a million questions, like how had seemed, and had he said anything about her, and did it seem like he was doing okay? But she asked just one. “When?”

“Earlier,” he said. “At the bar. He was pretty upset with me.”

“Well, can you blame him?”

“No,” Jake said. “I know what it’s like to be upset about this.” He gave her a stern look, one that made it clear that he did still harbor some anger about what she’d chosen to do, regardless of how far their relationship had come since then. “He’s hurting,” he said. “He’s lashing out. But once he calms down, you two will work it out.”

“How?” Clarke wondered. “How are we supposed to just work through this? I mean, look at you and Mom. You guys got divorced because of ‘irreconcilable differences.’ Well, what’s more irreconcilable than this?”

“Clarke.” Her dad bent down, put his hands on both her shoulders, and gave her a gentle shake, as if to shake some sense into her. “You and Bellamy are nothing like me and your mom,” he said. “You’re stronger than us. You didn’t communicate with him for five years, but the second he came back to town, you two got right back together. Now why is that?”

“Because . . .” She sniffled and wiped the tears from her nose. “Because we love each other,” she whimpered.

“That’s right. And that kind of love doesn’t just go away,” he said. “It lasts. It overcomes.”

The cramps in her midsection started to subside, and she found herself . . . actually really listening to him. Because of all the conversations she’d expected to have with her dad, this was not one of them. She’d expected him to lecture her, not try to motivate her.

“Now I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy,” he said. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he cares about you.” Glancing down at her stomach, he added, “About both of you. Something tells me he’s not going anywhere this time.”

She took in a shaky breath, torn between believing him and expecting the worst. She wanted to believe him, though. She wanted to believe that she and Bellamy had the type of love that could overcome anything, even something as horrible as this.

It wasn’t until that evening that she finally had some time to herself. Her dad had stayed with her all day, and it’d actually been . . . really nice. He told her about his own process of forgiving her, how it had taken time to move past the disappointment, but how he’d never stopped loving her. She wondered if he was telling her that to draw a comparison with Bellamy. Would it be the same for him? Would he still love her, even if he was working through issues with her?

She shut her phone off while he was there, because dealing with everyone else just felt like a little much. Lexa and Jasper and all those people who were just now finding out . . . she didn’t blame them for calling or texting. They were just trying to be good friends. But time with her dad turned out to be just the thing she needed, because when he left, she felt . . . sort of energized. Still not like she was about to do backflips or anything, but energized enough to turn her phone back on, ignore all the voicemails and unread texts, and call up Bellamy.

It rang four times. With each ring, she became less and less hopeful that he would answer. She wasn’t surprised when it kicked onto voicemail. In fact, she’d been anticipating it.

_“Hey, it’s Bellamy. Leave me a message.”_

A beep signaled that it was time for her to start talking. “Hey, it’s me.” Would he even listen to this? Didn’t matter. She was leaving him this voicemail anyway. “I know you probably don’t wanna hear from me right now, but I just wanted to let you know . . .” She stopped for a second, because Avery started to kick. Wildly. As if she was telling her daddy something, too. “I love you,” she said quietly, _feeling_ the words as she said them. “I’ve always loved you. I always will.” That wasn’t going to change for her, no matter what. And since she knew it wouldn’t change, she felt compelled to add on something he’d once said about her, something that was true for him, too: “You’re my constant.”


	60. Chapter 60

_Chapter 60_

Cleaning the teachers’ study was a hell of a lot better than cleaning classrooms. It wasn’t as much of a mess, and it didn’t smell as bad. Plus, Bellamy found relief in the fact that none of the students could see him back there. Not that he was embarrassed to be a janitor; he just . . . wasn’t exactly proud of it, either.

He was in the midst of cleaning the men’s bathroom back there when someone knocked on the door. “Occupado,” he droned in response.

“Bellamy, it’s Kane.”

He stopped what he was doing, confused, and slowly opened the bathroom door. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Kane said.

“Sorry.” He hadn’t meant to sound rude. “I’m kinda in the middle of something here. This toilet won’t clean itself, you know.” He lifted up the rim and made a face at what he saw. Normally, it wasn’t very bad, but someone must have had stomach issues that day, because . . .

“I just came up to post some flyers about the summer programs we’re offering at the center,” Kane said, holding up a stack of neon-colored papers. “Some of these kids need something to do when school’s out, otherwise they just go get into trouble.”

Bellamy nodded wordlessly, wondering if the football team still partied as much as they used to. Maybe they were partying _too_ much. Might explain why they weren’t any good.

“I met your boss, Steve,” Kane went on. “He seems nice.”

“Nice enough.” Bellamy squirted some toilet cleaner into the bowl, already dreading the thought of scrubbing at it.

“He told me I’d find you back here,” Kane said. “He told me you could take a break. If you want.”

If he took a break, it was going to be hard to keep going. The best way to go about this job was just to work without stopping and get it done as quickly as possible. “I got stuff to do,” he said.

“I understand,” Kane said, “but I’d like to talk to you. Can we?”

Bellamy looked down at the toilet, figuring it had waited all day, so it could wait a little longer. Besides, he actually liked Kane. That guy had always treated him decently.

They ended up going outside, since several teachers were back in the study in line at the copy machine. Outside, they could talk openly, freely, without worrying he was going to overhear them.

“Did you know?” Bellamy asked him outright.

“No,” Kane replied. “Abby told me a couple days ago. I haven’t gotten to talk to Clarke yet. Don’t know what I’d say. Maybe I just won’t say anything.”

Bellamy grunted. “Wish I had that luxury.” He’d done a pretty good job of avoiding Clarke these past few days, with only that one run-in at the beach house. But he knew that, eventually, he was going to have to man up and have a real conversation with her. About all of this.

“I’m not gonna pretend I know what it’s like to be you right now,” Kane said. “I’ve never been lied to by someone I love. But . . . I do know what it’s like to lose a child.”

Bellamy cast him a curious look. “Since when?” Hadn’t Kane been a lifelong bachelor until he’d met Abby?

“I was nineteen. Freshman year of college,” Kane started in. “I met this girl, and it was . . . a whirlwind romance, as they used to call it. But she got pregnant and ended up having an abortion, during a time when there was an even bigger stigma on abortions than there is now.”

Bellamy didn’t exactly feel like doing the math and figuring out when that had been, but it must have been crazy. Probably wasn’t even something they’d told their parents about, because different generations just had very different attitudes about it. “Did she do it behind your back?” he asked Kane. Because that was the real kicker in his situation.

“No, we talked about it,” Kane said. “I would’ve rather she had the child, but her mind was made up. There was nothing I could do to change it.”

Try as he might not to speculate, Bellamy couldn’t help but feel like he would have been able to change Clarke’s mind.

“It’s awful, feeling that helpless,” Kane empathized, “feeling like you can’t change the outcome no matter how hard you try. But we have to remember that we’re not the ones who have to be pregnant. We’ve got it easy.”

“Maybe,” Bellamy said. There were definitely certain things that Clarke had gone through that he was happy to avoid. “But it’s pretty hard, too. Like you said, we don’t have equal input.” It was still such a bitter pill to swallow that someone who was half of him could be destroyed without his knowledge or his consent. “I know I was only eighteen, but . . .” He swallowed hard, looking out towards the football field, where he’d lived out all his glory days. “I could’ve done it. I could’ve been a dad.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Kane said. “I didn’t know you back then, but there are definitely some people who are meant to be fathers. And you’re one of them.”

_Am I?_ he wondered. If it was meant to be, why hadn’t it worked out? Why hadn’t he and Clarke had a baby?

“Don’t forget, Bellamy, you still have a daughter on the way who’s gonna think the world of you,” Kane reminded him, “who’s gonna look at you like you’re her hero and can solve all her problems. She might not have come from you, but she’ll still have plenty of you in her.”

What if she didn’t, though? He’d been able to quiet the fears back when things had been normal and good between him and Clarke, but now that they weren’t . . . what if Avery didn’t think of him as her dad? What if he was always just her mom’s boyfriend and she thought of Finn Collins as her dad? It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but what if his only _real_ shot at being a father had disappeared the exact second his and Clarke’s baby had?

“How am I supposed to just go back to the way things were?” he asked himself as much as he asked Kane. “It’s not the same. It’s never gonna be the same.”

“No, it won’t be,” Kane agreed. “But that’s okay. Things change all the time.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want anything to change. Except Clarke’s last name,” he lamented. That sure as hell had blown up in his face. Now he was stuck walking around with an engagement ring that had burned a whole in his wallet and was a constant reminder of what he’d lost. “Look, I appreciate the pep talk, Kane,” he said, “but I gotta deal with this in my own way.” Part of dealing with it right now was to distract himself with work, and part of his work was cleaning that toilet in the teachers’ study. So he lowered his head and sulked back inside to do his job. His fantastic job.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke wasn’t sure how Raven had talked her into hanging out that day. And not just hanging out at home, either, but actually _going_ out. In public. To the movie theater. Raven could be very persuasive.

“So, what do you wanna see,” her friend asked as they surveyed all the movie posters on display out by the ticket counter. “ _Eternal Love_ or _One and Only_?”

Both of those sounded way too mushy for her to handle right now, so she suggested an alternative. “How about . . . _Monkey Run_?”

“ _Monkey Run_?” Raven echoed. “That’s a choice.”

“Sorry, I just don’t feel like seeing anything romantic,” she said. “Ever again.”

Raven shrugged. “Then _Monkey Run_ it is.” She forked over the money for two tickets and said, “Maybe it’ll be so bad it’s good. Like, um . . . oh, what was that that movie we watched that one time? With that one guy?”

Clarke was only halfway listening, because up by the concession stand, she spotted two girls from high school. She didn’t even know their names, because they’d been freshmen back when she’d been a senior. They’d never talked to her back then, and they weren’t talking to her now. They were just sneaking glances at her and clearing talking _about_ her.

“Oh, I can’t remember it, but I thought it was hilarious,” Raven kept babbling. “Even though it didn’t make any sense. Do you know what one I’m talking about?”

She did— _Road House_ —but she couldn’t stand there and talk about it. Not when those girls were so clearly gossiping about her. They were two of many people in that town who had heard the rumors, rumors that, as long as they hadn’t been exaggerated as they’d gone through the grapevine, were probably true. It was scandalous to them, and therefore, probably very entertaining. “Raven, I can’t be here,” she said, rejecting her movie ticket as her friend tried to hand it to her. She made her was as quickly as she could to the exit and out into the parking lot.

“Wait, wait, wait, what’s wrong?” Raven asked, running after her.

“Did you see the way people were looking at me?”

Raven huffed. “So? Who cares? They don’t even know you.”

“But they know _about_ me,” Clarke said, whirling around. “They know what I did.” That was going to be her reputation now, thanks to her mom’s so-called best friend. It didn’t matter that she’d gone on to graduate salutatorian, or that she was soon going to graduate college with the highest academic distinction, despite being pregnant for her entire senior year. She was always going to be the girl who’d had an abortion from here on out. “I should’ve just stayed home,” she muttered.

“Clarke, I hate to break it to you, but you can’t just be a hermit now that your secret’s out,” Raven informed her. “You’re gonna have a kid who’s gonna wanna go on playdates someday, who’s gonna wanna have sleepovers and birthday parties. You can’t just go into hiding.”

Realistically, Clarke knew Raven was right. But thinking about all that right now sort of just made her stomach hurt. “It’d be nice if I could,” she said. But she’d already tried that once before, and it hadn’t worked then. So it wasn’t like it was gonna work now.

****

_“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”_

_Clarke’s awakening was a rude one when a pillow was thrown at her head. “Raven?” she croaked out sleepily. “What’re you doing here?”_

_“Get up,” her friend said, crossing over to the window to pull open the curtains. “We’re hanging out today.”_

_“We are?” Clarke held her hand up to block the sunlight._

_“Yeah.”_

_“And what’re we doing?”_

_“Whatever we want,” Raven said. “Shopping, swimming, movies . . .”_

_Not one of those things sounded like something Clarke was interested in doing. Her summer vacation had gone the monotonous route ever since Bellamy had left, but she was fine with that. She’d found plenty of time to draw and play her guitar and read. And sleep. Sleep was a big theme. “I kinda just wanna stay in and rest,” she said._

_“You’ve been doing that for the past two weeks. And I’ve let you,” Raven said. She peeled back the covers and declared, “But it’s time to get up, get out, and get to living your life again. Your friends miss you. I miss you.”_

_Clarke felt a sudden surge of guilt deep in her gut. It’d never been her intention to withdraw so much. Sure, this wasn’t at all the summer she’d imagined, but it was still summer, and being cooped up inside the whole time probably was a waste. “Okay,” she said. “Just let me get ready. We’ll go to the beach.”_

_Raven grinned. “Now you’re talking.”_

_Truth be told, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to going back to the place where she and Bellamy had been spending so much time. But if she was going to get up and go out, then she felt like she_ had _to go there. Just to prove to herself that she could, just to prove that she could spend a day with her friends and still have a good time. Even without her ex._

_It didn’t surprise her that a few of the guys joined them. Raven and Zeke were enjoying their last summer together before he went to college, too, and probably wanted to spend the majority of it together. Except the difference was, he’d still be within driving distance, so their relationship didn’t have an expiration date written all over it._

_Miller and Jasper came out to the beach, too. Jasper didn’t look as down in the dumps as he had towards the end of the school year. For most people, summertime was enough to pull them out of their slumps, not put them into a new one._

_The guys threw the football around, even though only two of them had ever been players, and Clarke laid out with Raven underneath the shade of an umbrella, trying to relax. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked out at the ocean, imagining herself and Bellamy naked in that water, arms around each other as they kissed. Sex on the beach came with logistical problems, mostly the salt water and sand in weird places. But she’d really loved doing it with him out there. It’d felt so romantic and personal, like they were the only two people in the world._

What am I gonna do if my parents build that beach house? _she wondered. They’d been talking about it for the past month, but if they wanted to spend time out there as a family, then her mind was going to be so far in the gutter that she wouldn’t even be able to converse._

_“You girls sure you don’t wanna join us?” Zeke asked as he approached them. His shirtless presence was enough to pull Clarke out of her thoughts, because even though he didn’t have that same physique Bellamy had, he still looked pretty damn good and toned. “You could tackle Jasper.”_

_“No thanks,” Raven said, turning over onto her stomach, because she turned every fifteen minutes. “I’d rather just lay here and get some rays. How’s my back look?”_

_Her boyfriend grinned and sat down beside her. “Sexy.”_

_“No, I mean, am I getting burnt?”_

_“I don’t think so.” He put his hand in between her shoulder blades and asked, “You want me to put some more sunscreen on you?”_

_“Yeah, sure.”_

_Zeke squirted some cream into his hand and began smearing it all over Raven’s skin, making it look all sensual when he did so._ They’re so gonna fuck later, _Clarke thought, looking away. She sort of felt like she was intruding on foreplay._

_“What about you, Clarke?” Zeke asked. “You need some more?”_

_“I’m good. I got the strong stuff on,” she said. SPF 80. She wouldn’t settle for any less nowadays. People with her skin tone didn’t tan. They just burned._

_Too bad Bellamy hadn’t been there to help her get all lathered up._

_“That feels good,” Raven murmured, closing her eyes. She looked completely relaxed, like the sunscreen massage from her boyfriend could lull her off to sleep._

_Even though she didn’t want to ruin the moment, Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if Zeke had any news. Like . . . news about what was going on in Florida. Specifically, at UCF. With a backup quarterback. “Hey, Zeke?” she said._

_“Yeah?”_

_She thought about saying ‘never mind’ or asking a completely random and unimportant question instead, but . . . she wanted to know, so she went ahead and inquired, “Have you heard from Bellamy?”_

_“Uh, yeah, I texted him,” Zeke replied. “He said he’s got a roommate. Named Dexter. Hopefully he’s not a serial killer.”_

A roommate, _Clarke thought. Did that mean he was less likely to be bringing girls home then? Or did that not matter? Maybe he was already hooking up with someone else._

_“Other than that . . . I don’t know, I guess he’s been pretty busy with practice,” Zeke said. “I haven’t heard from him much. Have you?”_

_She hadn’t heard from him at all. And that was probably for the best. “No,” she said. “Don’t tell him I asked about him. I was just wondering.”_

_“Yeah,” Zeke said, his casual tone a major assurance to Clarke that he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. He patted Raven’s back, and said, “There you go, babe. I got you covered.”_

_“Thanks.” Raven puckered her lips, and Zeke bent forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he got back up and rejoined the boys for their makeshift football game. Clarke hated feeling envious of them, but dammit, did she ever. Raven and Zeke had been together forever. Or at least it seemed like forever. And it probably would be forever, because Raven only had one more year left of high school. They wouldn’t live in separate worlds for very long._

_Did they have any idea how lucky they were?_

_“I don’t get it, Clarke,” Raven said. “Why not just call him up if you miss him?”_

_“Because, that’s not gonna make me miss him any less.” Starting to feel a slight discomfort in her abdomen, she sat up straighter, clutching her side._

_“What?” Raven asked._

_“I don’t feel so good,” she said._

_“What, like nauseous?”_

_“Kind of. And a little crampy.” She also felt bloated as fuck, which was not exactly an ideal feeling when she was donning a bikini._

_“You’re probably gonna get your period,” Raven predicted._

_“Great.” Clarke sighed, lying down and draping her arm over her eyes. “Just what I need.”_

****

Clarke stepped aside as a car slowly drove through the parking lot. She got out of the way of it and leaned back against the trunk of a black vehicle that wasn’t hers. “I miss him, Raven,” she said sadly. “I miss him so much.” She couldn’t close her eyes without thinking about him, and even when her eyes were open, he pretty much ran on a loop in her mind then, too. “I called him last night,” she said.

Raven’s eyes lit up hopefully.

“No answer.” Lowering her head, she mumbled, “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“No, he does,” Raven insisted. “Just give him time.”

Clarke grunted sadly and said, “Look at me. I don’t have time.” She was so big, due to have that baby in just a couple of weeks now. And when that happened, being a mom had to be her priority. She couldn’t be stuck on her own drama with Bellamy when she had a baby to think about and take care of. She couldn’t be that selfish.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy got done with work in time to get home and have dinner with his mom. A late dinner, of course, because she’d been working, too. But a dinner nonetheless. She’d offered to cook, but hell, that woman was doing so much for him just by letting him stay there while he sorted shit out. So he decided to cook for her. His cooking was little more than macaroni and cheese out of the box, but at least that was so simple that even he couldn’t screw it up. Besides, he had plenty of experience making that for Clarke. Or with her. He was pretty much a mac and cheese expert by now.

He stood at the stove, stirring in the cheese sauce while his mind wandered. All afternoon and evening, Kane’s words had weighed heavily on his mind. Words about Avery and how she’d be his daughter, how there would be some of him in her. He really wanted to believe that. He really did.

The doorbell rang, and his mom said, “I’ll get it” and got up from the living room couch. Bellamy didn’t move a muscle, instead continuing to absentmindedly stir the macaroni.

“Raven, hi.”

He stiffened, not sure as to why the hell Raven would be there. Unless everyone who cared about him had a rotational shift schedule worked out, and now it was her turn to check up on him.

“Hi, Mrs. Blake,” Raven said. “This is my boyfriend, Murphy.”

Murphy was there, too? Bellamy stopped stirring, because . . . dammit, that kid had become one of his closest friends, and he was actually kind of glad he’d stopped by.

“Oh, I’ve heard about Murphy,” his mom said.

“Glowing things, I’m sure,” Murphy joked.

Bellamy moved the pot of macaroni to one of the back burners of the stove and went to the sink to wash his hands. “Is Bellamy home?” he heard Raven ask.

“Yes, he is,” his mom replied. “Bellamy! You have visitors.”

There was no dishtowel out, so he had to wipe his hands on his pants when he was done washing them. He left the kitchen and joined his friends in the living room. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey,” Raven said. She looked at him closely, and Bellamy wondered what she was seeing. A man who looked pathetic, like he’d lost everything? Or just some washed up loser who needed another drink?

“What’s up, man?” Murphy said, holding out his hand. Bellamy clasped it, and they bro-hugged. Very manly.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” his mom said. She picked up her book, her blanket, and went into her bedroom.

Even though they were obviously there to talk about Clarke, Bellamy really wanted to talk about something else. Lately, every conversation he had revolved around the most devastating revelation of his entire life. He needed a break from it, so he attempted some small talk with Raven by asking, “How’s work?”

“Oh, um . . . fine,” she said, seeming surprised by the question. “Same old, same old. Cars need fixing.”

“Yeah.” He could relate. Just today, there had been a toilet that needed fixing, and an air conditioner, and a desk. Apparently people at the school thought that, since he was a janitor, he could also pass as a handyman. But he had no idea what the hell he was doing. He’d managed to fix the toilet and air conditioner, but he’d only ended up doing more damage to the desk. School was probably just gonna have to get a new one.

Since that conversation had clearly stalled, he tried the small-talk thing with Murphy, too. “Hey, it looks like the trailer’s done well. That’s good.” He’d only watched it once, but he checked back in on the comments, likes, and views when he couldn’t sleep. It was getting a good response.

“Yeah.” Murphy looked down at his feet, cringed, and didn’t seem half as excited by his channel’s success as Bellamy had anticipated he’d be. “I’m probably gonna take it down,” he revealed, much to Bellamy’s surprise.

“What? Why?”

“Well, I’m not gonna post the film anymore,” Murphy explained. “You can still see it, if you want to, you and Clarke, but . . . I’m not gonna post it.”

“No, I think you should,” Bellamy told him. “It’s your career we’re talkin’ about here. Besides, you worked hard on it.” He and Clarke both knew what they’d signed onto when they’d agreed to be the subjects of Murphy’s documentary. There was no need for him to suffer, too, because of what was going on between them.

“I’ll think about it,” Murphy decided. “I’ll see what Clarke says.”

Bellamy nodded slowly, wondering if Clarke would feel differently. He supposed he could talk to her about it, make a case for Murphy still being able to release the film. But talking to her about anything right now . . . that didn’t seem so easy.

“We just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Raven said quietly. She looked at him with concern in her eyes, probably because she’d never seen him looking so crappy.

“Well . . . I could lie to you,” he said, “but . . .” What was the point of that? Raven was a genius, and Murphy was a smart guy, too. They’d see straight through him.

“Clarke said she left you a voicemail,” Raven said.

“Yeah. I haven’t listened to it yet.” There it sat on his phone, un-played, and it would quite possibly remain that way.

“Maybe you should,” Raven suggested.

He shook his head stubbornly and muttered, “It’s not gonna change anything.”

Raven and Murphy exchanged a look, and Murphy sighed heavily. “Then maybe these will,” he said, opening up his jacket. He pulled out an envelope and handed it over to Bellamy, and without even looking inside, Bellamy knew what was in there. And he knew that opening that envelope would sting, because it’d be a reminder of a hell of a lot happier time. Still, though, he opened it up, peered inside at the photos, and slowly lifted one out. It was one from the park, where he’d been kneeling down to kiss Clarke’s belly. She was smiling at him, and she looked so beautiful.

_What a chump_ , he thought as he looked at himself. He hadn’t known it at the time, but days after that picture, he’d kneel down again, only this time, he wouldn’t get a smile out of her. He’d get the ultimate rejection, followed by some life-changing news, of course.

It would have been easy to just look at that photo and feel negative things. Disappointment in both her and himself. Sadness. A longing to turn back time and live in that moment forever. But mixed in with all of that negativity was something he couldn’t quite shut off: Love. He still loved Clarke. He loved the Clarke in that photo and the Clarke who was probably holed up in her beach house right now. It would have been easier to just hate her, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he _loved_ her. And that was clearly why these two had come by, to remind him of that.

He and his mom did end up having their macaroni and cheese dinner that night, and she was tired, so she went to bed early. He claimed he was going to do the same, but instead, he grabbed the envelope Murphy had given him and went out. There were options for where he could go. He could always go to the bar, but if what Miller said was true and word had really gotten out about all of this, then that wasn’t where he wanted to be. Drunk people weren’t especially known for their sensitivity and compassion. He figured he could go hang out with Jasper or Miller, or maybe even Lexa. Any of the three of them would be willing to play some video games for a few hours. But what if they were already in the middle of something? Jasper had Maya, and Miller had Bryan or whoever the hell he was dating now, and Lexa had her long-distance girlfriend. He didn’t want to interrupt.

In the end, it was inevitable where he ended up. In fact, even when he’d left the house that night, he’d assumed he would go see Clarke. Because seeing all those pictures from the maternity photo shoot had made him sort of . . . ache. On the inside. He missed her.

The house was dark when he got there, so he assumed she was asleep. He used his key to let himself in quietly and was surprised to see that the downstairs TV was still on, providing the only light. And there was Clarke, asleep in the recliner, an afghan falling from her shoulders.

She must have been tired, because she didn’t stir or seem to hear him. And he didn’t want her to. Sleep was hard for her these days. She was lucky if she got one uninterrupted hour at a time. And she needed to rest. She was more pregnant now than ever before.

_I’ll just leave the pictures and go_ , Bellamy decided, tiptoeing towards the coffee table, sneaking a peek at what she’d been watching. It was some Hallmark movie, but she had the volume on low, like she’d just wanted a little background noise to fall asleep to.

He tried to find a place to set the envelope, but the table was covered with snacks. Boxes of crackers and granola bars and cookies, along with a nearly empty bag of Doritos. It was good to know she still had an appetite. He set the pictures down on the couch instead, and then as quietly as he could, he cleared off the coffee table, bringing everything back into the kitchen. Clarke still didn’t wake up, but she did move around a little, and the afghan fell off her shoulder. If that had happened in bed, and if he’d been lying beside her, he would have reached over and covered her up again. He did that a lot during the night. If she was restless, that meant he had to be restless, too. He woke up a lot and checked on her.

_Who’s checking on you now?_ he wondered, making his way back towards her. Surely Raven and Harper and everyone else were stopping in to see her, too. And she had her mom and dad and Kane. She wasn’t alone. Even though she was alone right now, she wasn’t _really_ alone.

When he grabbed hold of the blanket to pull it back up over her arms, he caught sight of something wedged in between the arm of the recliner and her legs. Her sketchbook, the one he’d gotten her for her birthday. She must have been drawing before she fell asleep. He picked it up and squinted through the darkness, able to see himself in the pencil lines. There were two sketches of him, actually. On one side of the page was a drawing of him from high school. No beard, slightly shorter hair. And then on the other side was a drawing of him now, beard and everything. He was smiling in both drawings. He looked happy, as happy as he had in the pictures from that photo shoot. Happier than he’d been for days now.

He stared at those drawings for a long, long time. God, he wanted to feel that happy again.


	61. Chapter 61

_Chapter 61_

Another morning, another backache. What else was new? Clarke had long ago become used to waking up feeling uncomfortable, but falling asleep upright wasn’t doing her any favors. At this point, even her pregnancy pillow wouldn’t help her, though. She was just so . . . huge. And lonely.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that the same Hallmark movie she’d watched last night was now airing again. It hadn’t been good the first time, so she fully intended to flip the channel. But she got distracted when she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of her sketchbook. It’d been too dark to notice it last night when she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom. But now that it was morning, it drew her attention completely.

Sliding the paper out of her book, her breath caught for a moment when she saw drawings that were not at all her own. In fact, they weren’t drawings so much as they were doodles. But they mimicked the ones she’d done of Bellamy last night. On one half of the page was the high school version of her, cheerleading outfit, hair in a half ponytail. On the other side was her nowadays with her shorter hair and a pregnant belly. And in the bottom right-hand corner, where an artist might normally place their signature or initials, were two words written in all caps, familiar handwriting: _I tried_ , it said.

She smiled to herself. _Bellamy_. He’d been there last night. He’d seen her drawings. And he’d stayed long enough to attempt some of his own.

A knock on the front door disrupted her thoughts. “Clarke? It’s Mom.”

Clarke didn’t bother to get up and get the door. Her mom could let herself in. Besides, she was still looking at Bellamy’s doodles. He had no artistic talent whatsoever, but it was sweet that he’d tried. Dammit, she wished she would have woken up when he’d been there, though. She woke up all the time during the night. Why couldn’t her bladder have timed it right just this once? Then they could have talked. They could have talked for a long time. They really needed to.

The doorknob twisted and turned, and her mom eventually did let herself in. “Hi, honey,” she said. “Did you just wake up?”

Clarke almost felt too dazed to respond. “Yeah,” she said, sitting up straighter. She accidentally knocked the remote control off the arm of the recliner, but she didn’t even care to grab it. Her mom, however, bent down and did that for her.

“Well, I’m sorry to swing by so early,” she said, turning the volume on the TV all the way down. “I have to be at work soon. But I just wanted to let you know . . .” She swallowed hard, paused dramatically, and then revealed, “I ended my friendship with Callie.”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Really?” She didn’t want to be insensitive, but that was music to her ears.

“Yes. I confronted her about . . . everything,” her mom said. “She admitted she told people, even though I asked her not to. She said she only told two people, but I doubt that’s true.” She shook her head in disappointment. “You were right, Clarke. She’s not a nice person. It’s just that . . . I’m not like you. I don’t have friends. I haven’t had friends ever since we moved here.” Sighing deeply, she looked down at the floor and mumbled, “Your grandmother used to tell me I had a prickly disposition and that I’d be lucky to find a man who ever wanted to put up with me.”

Even though Clarke wasn’t about to mourn the loss of Callie from their lives, she couldn’t deny that her heart went out to her mother. Socializing really wasn’t her strong point. Making friends didn’t come easily to her. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she sympathized. “I mean, I really do think you’re better off without Callie Cartwig in your life, but I’m still sorry.”

Her mother blinked back tears, obviously trying to maintain a strong front, and said, “It’s for the best.” Undoubtedly she’d get upset later, though, when she wasn’t over here or at work. Kane would probably console her. “What’s that, sweetie?” she asked, motioning to the paper in Clarke’s hand. “Were you drawing?”

“Oh, yeah,” Clarke said. “Last night.”

“Can I see?”

Reluctantly, Clarke handed over the paper.

Her mom looked it over curiously and remarked, “Oh, that’s . . . very good.”

“I didn’t draw that. Bellamy did,” Clarke informed her.

“Bellamy was here?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I was asleep.” Clarke really wanted the paper back, so she held out her hand, and her mom gave it back to her. “That’s a good sign, though, don’t you think?” she said. “At least he was here.”

“But he didn’t stay,” her mom pointed out.

“No, but . . .” It was a small victory, and she had to take small victories where she could find them. “Come on, Mom, can’t you at least pretend to be happy that my boyfriend might still care about me?”

“Oh, I’m sure he still cares about you,” her mom said, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “And I know you still care about him.”

“I love him,” Clarke said. No matter what happened, she’d never stop loving him. Not ever. But she wondered if, on some level, that was what her mom still wanted, for the feelings to just disappear so that Bellamy could be out of the picture. “You don’t want me to get back together with him, do you?” she asked quietly.

“No, if that’s what you want, then I want that for you,” her mother said. “But I’m . . . wary. This is a lot for any couple to overcome.”

_But we’re not just any couple_ , Clarke thought stubbornly. She and Bellamy had overcome five years apart. They could get past this, too. Couldn’t they? “Dad thinks we can overcome it,” she said.

Her mom nodded silently, a contemplative look on her face, and when she spoke again, it was with a question Clarke didn’t want to hear. “What if you don’t?”

_No, we will_ , she thought, dead-set on that. _We have to._

“I know it’s not fun to think about it,” her mom said, “but I need you to know that, no matter what, you’ll be okay.”

Instead of getting angry that her mom would even put such negative thoughts out there into the universe, Clarke remained calm. She knew that this wasn’t coming from a place of hostility. Her mom just wanted her to be strong on her own and to have faith in herself, which wasn’t a bad thing. “I know,” she said. Regardless of what happened between her and Bellamy now, she did still have things to look forward to. Motherhood, mostly. “But I don’t wanna be alone,” she said, unwilling to entertain the possibility that they wouldn’t be able to get through this. Right now, she needed to believe that they’d get back together somehow. “And I don’t wanna raise Avery alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” her mother assured her. “I’m here. I’ll help you.”

“Look, Mom . . .” Clarke didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but she couldn’t take Bellamy’s place. “Not that I’m not grateful, but . . . it’s not the same.” Bellamy wasn’t just her boyfriend; he was her best friend, her soulmate. He and Avery were the two most important people in the world to her. “I think I’m gonna try to talk to him today,” she decided, feeling a rush of determination. Knowing that he’d been there last night energized her. “It’s time.”

“What’re you gonna say?” her mom asked.

“I don’t know. It’s not the kind of thing I can plan out.” Whatever she said to him had to come from the heart. And it would. Because her heart had burst open a couple nights ago, and she hadn’t bothered to stitch it back together yet.

“Right,” her mom said, standing up. “Well, I should be getting to work.” She glanced into the kitchen, though, and something on the counter caught her eye. “What’s this?” she said, making her way over there.

“What?” Clarke asked, sitting up straighter.

Her mom picked up a large manila envelope, opened it, and peered inside. “Clarke,” she gasped. “These are stunning.” She pulled out one photo, and even from a distance, Clarke recognized it as one of the pictures from the maternity photo shoot. Murphy didn’t have a key to her place, so he couldn’t have been the one to bring those by.

“Bellamy,” she realized quietly as that rush of determination intensified. He hadn’t just shown up to doodle and leave.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were more rooms in Arkadia high school than Bellamy had ever imagined. Back in the day, he used to think that he knew all the best places to sneak away with girls and make out, but now that he was a janitor and had the master key to every nook and cranny of the place, he realized how limited he’d been. There were more hidden spaces to that building than he’d known, and one of his personal favorites was this room tacked on to the library, full of old desktop computers that no one had any use for anymore. They just sat there collecting dust, so it was the perfect space for Bellamy to slip away and do a little . . . drinking. He thought he’d be alone there, but his boss Steve was the kind of guy who was everywhere at once on the job, and he walked in and found him when he wasn’t even halfway finished with his beer.

“Hey, Bellamy, I need your help with--” Steve stopped abruptly when he saw him with a bottle in his hand. “What the hell are you doing?”

Wasn’t it obvious? He was drowning his sorrows. “I was just taking a quick break,” he said.

Steve motioned to the bottle and asked, “What is that?”

“Beer.” It was usually only beer. None of the real hard stuff. He limited himself.

“I know,” Steve said, “but why is it here?”

“Because I’m thirsty,” Bellamy replied.

Steve groaned impatiently. “Would you use your common sense for a minute? You’re in a school. You can’t have that here.”

“I used to have a flask in my locker,” Bellamy pointed out. “They never caught me then; they won’t catch me now.” He wasn’t a kid anymore. He was an adult, and if he wanted to have a drink throughout the day, then he could do it.

“Just go home then,” Steve told him, sounding . . . fed up.

_Shit_ , Bellamy thought, fearing that another firing would be on the horizon if he didn’t pull his shit together. “No, it’s fine,” he said, setting the bottle down at his feet. He stood up and declared, “I’m here to work.”

Steven shook his head decidedly. “Not today you’re not. I’m serious, go home. You’re no use to me when you’re like this.”

When he’d first sat down to drink, Bellamy hadn’t thought about this, about the possibility of losing _another_ job. But he was pretty sure he couldn’t handle the humiliation of that. “Steve, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Look, forget about it. What do you need help with?”

Steve was having none of it, though. He muttered, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and left the room. When Bellamy was alone again, he bent down, picked up his bottle, and drank the rest of it. He told himself it was because he didn’t want some high schooler wandering in there and finding it, but really, it was just because he wanted it. Maybe even needed it.

Having the afternoon off meant that he didn’t really know what to do with himself. So he drove around aimlessly for a while, then stopped and got a few groceries before finally heading home. When he got there, his mom’s vehicle was already in the driveway, but he wasn’t sure why since she usually didn’t get home until later.

“Mom?” he called when he walked inside with a sack of food in his hand.

She sat on the couch and peered over her shoulder at him. “Hi, honey,” she said.

“What’re you doin’ home so early?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He wasn’t about to tell her the truth, that his boss had sent him home for being worthless, so he lied and said, “I got my work done fast.”

“Well, good for you,” she said. “I didn’t get much work done at all. I twisted my ankle this morning. Now it hurts to walk on it.”

Crap, he felt like an idiot for not even noticing that she was sitting with one leg elevated on the coffee table, and she had ice on her ankle. “Are you okay?” he asked her, concerned as he set the sack down on the floor and moved closer to her to get a better look. “You need me to take you to the doctor?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just a little swollen, that’s all. It could be worse.”

Swollen was maybe an understatement. Underneath the ice pack was a swirl of black and blue. “Well, I’ll make dinner tonight,” he offered. Least he could fucking do. “I stopped and picked up some groceries.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling gratefully at him.

“Maybe I could just keep getting groceries for a while,” he said, bringing the sack of food into the kitchen. “That can be how I pay you back for . . . you know, the loan you gave me for that ring.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, Bellamy,” his mom assured him.

“No, I will.” Even though that ring wasn’t on Clarke’s finger, he’d still bought it. Partially with his mom’s money. He owed her, and he wasn’t about to just take her money. “You want anything to eat?” he asked as he quickly began unpacking groceries. He’d kind of forgotten where everything went. His and Clarke’s kitchen was set up differently.

“Not right now,” she said.

“To drink?” he asked.

“Maybe some water.”

He grabbed a glass out of the cupboard, filled it up with some cool water, and then opened up the refrigerator, not for her, but for him. To grab himself a Budweiser can. Not a bottle this time. Just a can.

“There you go,” he said, handing the water to her when he returned to the living room.

“Thanks.” She took a sip, then gave him a look when he popped the tab on his can. A worried look? The same way he’d surveyed her ankle, she was now surveying him.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just . . .” She trailed off, looked down at her lap as though she didn’t want to finish, and when she did, her voice was quiet. But she looked right back up at him. “You’ve been drinking a lot lately.”

_Yeah_ , he thought, not seeing it as a big deal. So what if he had been? “Well, I’ve been upset,” he said. Under normal circumstances, he didn’t drink as often.

“It’s a little much, though,” she said, “don’t you think?”

Was it? Yeah, probably. But in his mind, he could justify it. In his mind, it was no big deal. He’d had his first taste of alcohol back in middle school, at a Halloween party where the parents hadn’t supervised things as closely as they should have. He’d been drinking for half his life, and it’d never caused him any problems before. It’d never been that big of a deal at all.

****

_Bellamy missed the parking lot. Those parties had been lit. This college party, so far, wasn’t living up to the hype. Of course, it was summer, so campus was kind of deserted. But still, he’d expected the kind of drunken antics he’d seen in the movies. He wasn’t gonna get too drunk, of course, because he couldn’t risk getting caught and charged with something and then having his playing time reduced. But he’d enjoy watching other people get wasted._

_A couple of guys from the team dragged him out to a frat party that night. The main activity seemed to be beer pong, which he wasn’t horrible at, but he was better at throwing a football, so he kind of hung back and let his teammates have at it. He filled up a glass from the keg and roamed around the fraternity, interested to see if that was something he’d ever be interested in. Dorm life wasn’t working out very well for him so far. Dexter spent more time listening to screamo rock than he did bothering to get to know him. How had they ever been paired up as roommates?_

_While he was wandering, a girl with curly dark hair approached him and struck up a conversation. It was casual enough. Her name was Sarah . . . or Shawna. He couldn’t quite remember. But it was something that started with an S, and she was a sophomore. She lived in a sorority down the street and was taking summer classes. She was easy to talk to. She was friendly._

_“So how are you enjoying your first college party?” she asked him._

_He wasn’t. Not really. Still just longing for the days of the parking lot. “It’s loud,” he said. Whoever was handling the music was blasting it so loud that he felt like he had to shout just to be heard._

_“Yeah,” she agreed. “You get used to it.”_

_So she went to a lot of parties then. Maybe he’d see her around at a few more. “It’s good, though,” he said. “I don’t really know anyone besides the guys from the team, so it’s good to get out and meet people.”_

_“You don’t seem like you’d have a problem meeting people,” Sarah/Shawna commented._

_“No, not in high school.” Back in Arkadia, he’d known his place, and it’d been a place at the top of the social hierarchy. Here, he thought he would be more outgoing than he actually had been so far. He’d never been shy before, and he wasn’t technically shy now. But in the couple of weeks that he’d been at UCF, he’d spent more time reading than he ever had before. That was his nightly routine now. He sat up in bed and read for an hour. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to seem like an idiot in all these college classes, but . . . it was more than that. Truth was, he sort of felt like he was struggling to find his footing here. Everyone back in Arkadia knew him and looked up to him, for one reason or another. But here, he was just another face in the crowd. And it wasn’t even as crowded as it would be when the fall semester started up._

_“Were you popular?” his female companion asked, keeping the conversation going._

_He decided to answer modestly. “Kind of.”_

_“How popular?” she asked. “Homecoming king or prom king?”_

_“Both.”_

_She smiled. “Nice. I almost got prom queen, but there was just one girl more popular than me. So I ended up being the princess.”_

_Immediately, he tensed. In fact, he nearly dropped the cup in his hand._

_“Is everything okay?” she asked._

_“Yeah,” he said. “I just . . .” That one word,_ princess . . . _it made him think about Clarke, and he’d been trying_ really _hard not to think about her. When he heard a song that made him think of her, he changed it. When he saw someone on TV who looked like her, he went to another channel. He’d resisted the urge to call her or text her on more than one occasion, and he’d managed to stop thinking about her in the shower. But now, she was all over his mind again, every version of her. The cheerleader version, the beach version, and of course, the prom princess version._

Dammit.

_“I better go check on the guys,” he said, motioning to the beer pong table. “Our coach will kill us if we show up to practice hungover tomorrow.”_

_“Oh, okay,” she said, sounding mildly disappointed. “Well, find me again later.”_

_He smiled at her and nodded as he walked away, but he had no intention of doing that, so he didn’t commit to it. Sure, Sarah or Shawna or whatever the hell her name was . . . she was cute. And nice. And if he’d met her a month from now, maybe he would have moved on enough to keep talking to her, to flirt with her, maybe to even kiss her or do more than kissing. But right now, Clarke still felt like his girlfriend, and he had to wait for that feeling to go away before he moved on._

****

Bellamy looked down at the beer in his hand, knowing that it was different for the people around him. The college girls at UCF hadn’t been able to understand why he’d been more interested in drinking by himself than making a move on them. Steve didn’t understand why he needed to ‘take a break’ instead of just powering through his job. Even his mom, knowing everything that was going on in his life, couldn’t help but be concerned about what she was seeing. “Yeah,” he agreed with her. “You’re right, I should . . . I should have some water, too.” He didn’t want her to worry about him, so anything he could do to put her mind at ease, he’d do it.

He headed back into the kitchen, beer in hand, and despite how much he wanted to down it, he poured it down the drain of the sink instead. And then he poured himself a glass of water.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It took Clarke all day to work up the nerve to go see Bellamy. Determined as she was, she was still anxious. Because there were so many things that could go wrong. He could tell her that the only reason he’d brought those pictures by last night was because he didn’t want them anymore. Or he could say that his little doodle had meant nothing and wasn’t something to get sentimental over at all. Or, worse, he could just slam the door in her face and refuse to talk to her. She didn’t feel like he’d do that, though. If he wanted to completely shut her out, he would have had Raven or Murphy deliver the photos, and he wouldn’t have stayed long enough to draw anything.

She drove over to his mom’s house and knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, but no one came to answer. “Aurora?” she called. “Bellamy?” His car wasn’t in the driveway, so he probably wasn’t there. Which was a bummer, because she didn’t feel like they could talk properly if he was out at Eligius or somewhere else.

The lights were on in the living room, but that didn’t mean anyone was home. Feeling defeated, Clarke stepped down off the porch, took her phone out, and called her mother. “Hey, Mom,” she said. “Do you think I could come over for dinner? I really don’t wanna eat alone again tonight.”

“Actually, I’m still at the hospital,” her mom replied. “Double shift.”

“Oh, fun.” Clarke sighed, figuring she could always go eat with Kane. But that was kind of weird. Her friends were always an option, but they probably all had plans.

“I, uh . . . I heard that _someone_ brought his mom in for an ankle injury,” her mother revealed suddenly. “Someone you might wanna see?”

Clarke froze in her tracks, and for a moment. _What the hell?_ Bellamy . . . was there? At the hospital? And her mom was actually cluing her into that fact? What other explanation could there be but a miracle? She had to go there. Talking to him in a public place was still better than not talking to him at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It felt weird for Bellamy to be at the hospital for something so . . . mundane. An ankle injury. Probably a sprain, but maybe a fracture. His mom had really resisted coming in, but she couldn’t put any weight on it at all without nearly bursting into tears. He’d refused to just let her be in pain, so he’d insisted on bringing her in. They had a twenty-four hour emergency room in town for a reason. No need for her to suffer through the whole night.

They were the only ones there, and while she went to have her ankle X-rayed, he sat out in the waiting room and . . . well, waited. Tried not to think about how many hospital visits he’d logged with Clarke. Appointments, check-ups, ultrasounds . . .

The large doors of the emergency room made a loud noise whenever they slid open. Which wasn’t often. Bellamy looked up whenever someone came in, though. It was usually a nurse or doctor, but he thought he was seeing things when Clarke walked in. The wind had blown her hair everywhere, and she was definitely wearing two different shoes but didn’t realize it.

“Oh, my,” the woman at the front desk said. “Is it time?”

Bellamy clung to the arms of his chair. _Is it?_

“No, not yet,” Clarke said. “If it all goes according to plan, I’ve got another week and a half to go.”

The woman smiled. “So close now.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy.”

_A week and a half_ , Bellamy thought. What was that, ten or eleven days? Then she’d be back in that hospital, as a patient this time. And where would he be? Would she even want him back in the delivery room with her anymore?

Clarke glanced into the waiting room and made eye contact with him. She excused herself from the woman at the desk and came in to sit down next to him. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey.” He tried not to look at her, but still, he had to ask, “Are you doin’ alright? You and Avery.”

“Yeah. We’re good.” A few seconds of silence descended upon them, until she said, “I heard you brought your mom in. Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. He could have left it at that, but . . . it felt good to talk to her. About anything. “She hurt her ankle at work, and it just kept getting worse. She was just gonna tough it out, but I made her come in. Better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Did she break it?”

“I don’t know. They’re doing X-rays. Could just be a sprain.” He’d had a few sprains back in the day, and sometimes they took longer to heal than breaks did. It was gonna suck no matter what for her, so he was gonna have to make sure he stepped up and helped her out more.

“Well, I wanted to come check up on her,” Clarke said.

“Yeah, thanks.” He wondered how she’d even heard, but . . . it didn’t really matter. She was there. And he was there. And they were actually talking. Not about anything that mattered, of course, but it was at least a conversation.

She hesitated a moment, then added, “And I wanted to see you, too. Of course.”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying not to put the attention on him. People had been paying enough attention to him all day. His boss, his mom . . .

“You know, Bellamy, we haven’t really gotten to talk since . . .” She trailed off.

“Yeah, I know.” If she was anything like him, though, she hadn’t stopped thinking about it. “But I don’t really think we should talk here.”

“Well, you could’ve woken me up last night,” she pointed out. “We could’ve talked then.”

He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. You looked so peaceful.” If he could have drawn better, he would have drawn what she looked like when she was sleeping.

“I haven’t been,” she admitted. “Not since . . .” Again, she let her sentence fade. “I miss you,” she told him.

Yeah, he knew that. And he missed her, too. But missing someone didn’t just fix everything. “This is really hard for me, Clarke,” he said quietly. “I’m not trying to make things harder, but . . . I can’t shut off what I’m feeling, either.”

She nodded slowly, and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw tears in hers. “Do you hate me?” she asked fearfully.

He looked at her, _really_ looked at her for the first time since she’d walked in those sliding doors. “No,” he said. That wasn’t possible. “But it’s still hard. You were the one person I trusted more than anyone else in the world. I still can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

She swallowed hard and said, “I thought I was doing it _for_ you. I thought it’d screw up your whole life to have a baby. I thought it’d hold you back.”

“Yeah, well, I only made it through one year of college anyway, so it wouldn’t have held me back from anything,” he pointed out. Hindsight and all that. She couldn’t have known that at the time, but it still made the whole situation sting just a little bit more. “Look, I’m not gonna lie to you and say I’m okay with you having an abortion,” he said. That word caused her to shift uncomfortably, but he made sure to keep his voice low so the woman at the desk wouldn’t overhear. “I wish you hadn’t,” he admitted. “I wish I would’ve known so I could try to talk you out of it. But you were pregnant, and you had a choice, and you made it. That’s your right, and even if I don’t agree with it, I can still respect it. Because it’s your body; you’re the one who gets to decide. But that’s not even the biggest issue. Keeping me in the dark about it all this time?” He winced. “That’s what I can’t wrap my mind around. Because I haven’t kept things from you, Clarke. What happened at UCF with that girl at that party . . . that was the biggest regret of my life, and I told you about it. I opened up. But you didn’t open up to me.”

Blinking back tears, she said, “I was scared you’d hate me.”

“Well, I don’t. We already covered that.” So where did that leave them, then? That was what he was struggling with.

“But now you don’t trust me,” she recognized. “And that’s just as bad. Bellamy, I’ve thought a lot about this over the years.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

He wondered how often she’d thought about it, how many times he’d been holding her or kissing with her that she’d thought about what she’d done. “Then tell me about it,” he said, feeling like he needed to know, like he needed to be able to picture it in his mind since he hadn’t been there to go through it with her. “What was it like?”

She bristled a bit. “What?”

“When you went and had it done,” he said. “What was it like?” If he was anyone else, he wouldn’t have asked, but he’d been that baby’s father. He felt like he had the right to know.

“It was . . . awful,” she said. She hesitated a bit, for a few long, drawn-out seconds. Her eyes glazed over with sadness, and he saw a look on her face he’d never seen before when she started to remember. A haunted look. She didn’t make eye contact with him. She just stared ahead at nothing. “It was a gloomy day,” she recalled. “My mom went with me, but my dad didn’t.”

“Where’d you go?” He needed more. He needed to know.

“Baltimore,” she answered. “It was a—a women’s health clinic. There were protestors outside, holding signs. With pictures on them. Pictures of dead babies.” She shifted around uncomfortably, and a few of the tears she was trying so hard to hold back fell onto her cheeks. “I almost changed my mind,” she confessed. “But we got in there, and my mom handled all the paperwork. I couldn’t even hold a pen; my hands were shaking.”

He looked down at her hands and noticed they were shaking even now.

“When we got back to the room, I started to cry,” she went on. “So she held my hand.”

Part of him wanted to reach over right now and do the same.

“It was loud,” she said. “The noise the machine made was loud and . . . I kind of felt this cramping. But it only took about five minutes.”

_Five minutes?_ he thought. He and Clarke had made a whole child together, and it’d only taken five minutes to . . . get rid of it? To get rid of a life forever?

“I remember thinking it should’ve taken longer,” she said. “But after that, they took me to a room to recover for an hour. And there was a painting on the wall of a meadow with lots of flowers, and a farmhouse. I think it was supposed to be . . . calming. But it wasn’t.”

Hearing her recall a minute detail like that . . . it really did make him feel like he was there with her. He could picture it better now, and it actually made him feel . . . guilty. Because he should have been there with her. He should have called her or texted her once he got to UCF. He should have never given her up. If he’d still been her boyfriend instead of going off to chase his futile football dream, then she would have told him.

“How far along were you?” he asked her. In his head, he kept picturing a small bump, but maybe she hadn’t had one.

“About two months,” she said.

Yeah, no bump then. No wonder no one else had known. They wouldn’t have been able to tell.

“It was a little too late to take the . . . abortion pill, though,” she said. “They told me it might not have worked, so I had to do it the other way.”

_The machine way_ , he thought. It was like a vacuum, wasn’t it? It just . . . sucked it out of there?

“A couple days later, school started, and I just acted like . . . like I’d just had a boring summer,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Well, I think a lot of people know now,” he said.

“Yeah. Callie made sure of that.”

He frowned. “You told her?”

“No, but my mom did.”

He grunted, pissed off that _that_ was the source of their information leak.

“It’s okay,” she said, surprisingly calm about the whole thing. “I mean, it’s not _okay_ , but . . . I did it. And I’m not gonna deny it or hide from it anyone anymore. Besides, I really don’t care what anybody else thinks. I just care about what you think.”

“But I don’t know what I think,” he said. “I pictured everything in my mind when you described it just now, and part of me felt . . . sad for you. Like I wanted to be there with you. But then part of me is relieved I wasn’t. And part of me’s still angry. And then . . .” He stopped short of completing his thought, and shook his head. “This is so stupid,” he mumbled. “Part of me just wonders if our baby would’ve had freckles like me.”

Clarke’s mouth opened, her bottom lip quivering, and she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize for that.” He didn’t need to hear those words from her anymore. He’d heard them enough. “ _I’m_ sorry,” he told her. “I’m sorry for saying you killed our kid. I’m a guy. I have no right to judge you for that. You didn’t kill anybody. You made a choice.” He had to think of it like that, to put himself in her shoes and try to empathize. Otherwise, they weren’t going to get anywhere. “It’s the lie, though, Clarke,” he said. “That’s what gets to me.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry for that, too. But I realize how worthless an apology is.”

As tired as he was of hearing her say she was sorry, he understood why she felt the need to say it. “It’s not completely worthless,” he said.

She looked at him with wide eyes, looking a little bit . . . hopeful. He didn’t want to give her false hope, though, or make her believe that everything was just fixed now, so he got up and said, “I’m gonna go check on my mom.” He needed a breather.

“Okay,” she said. “I-I can wait out here.”

“No, you should go home,” he told her.

“But we could still--”

“Clarke.” They couldn’t still do anything. This was all he could handle tonight. “Let’s just leave it.” They’d talked. This wasn’t an argument or a fight of any kind. It was just a conversation. And it eventually had gotten around to the stuff that mattered.

She nodded silently in agreement, and neither one of them said anything else. Personally, he felt talked out, so he headed out of the waiting room and back to the patient rooms to see if her mom was done with her X-ray. He was tired, and more than anything, he wanted to just go home and go to bed. But at least that was better than wanting to go home and drink.


	62. Chapter 62

_Chapter 62_

Clarke’s pace was . . . slow. Snail-like, one could say. Turtle-ish. Just getting from the car to the rec center felt like a marathon, one she had to take step by step. In contrast, Raven was obviously raring to go. She had her yoga mat tucked under her arm and her abs on full display with the sports bra top she was wearing.

“You look so uncomfortable,” she noted as they headed back to the studio.

“I am,” Clarke groaned. “My uterus feels like it weighs twelve pounds.”

“Maybe it does,” Raven speculated.

“No, don’t say that. We don’t joke about that kind of stuff.” The thought of delivering a twelve-pound baby was terrifying. All her ultrasounds seemed to indicate a relatively normal-sized kid, but she still had nightmares about an abnormally large one. “Six or seven pounds,” she said. “That’d be a healthy, manageable baby.”

Raven held the door open for her as she waddled into the yoga studio, and she’d only taken a few steps when Luna flittered towards her and greeted her warmly with a big smile on her face. “Hi, Clarke. Welcome back.”

“Hey,” Clarke said, unable to muster the same enthusiasm. It was prenatal yoga. She was over it at this point.

“Um, I hate to tell you, but I think you’re a little too far along to take part in today’s session,” Luna said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’m just here to watch and get out of the house,” Clarke told her. There was no way her body was going to bend or contort at all anymore. Motioning to Raven, she added, “It was her idea.”

Raven smiled and waved.

“I see,” Luna said. “Well, that’s fine by me.” She looked towards the door, almost as if she expected someone else to walk in. And then, she asked a question that made Clarke’s heart sink. “How’s your boyfriend? Bellamy, right?”

_Is that right?_ Clarke wondered. They may not have gotten engaged, but they hadn’t officially broken up, either. But they weren’t even living together anymore. Or were they? Was this just like a hiatus? She didn’t know how to define what they were anymore.

“He didn’t wanna tag along?” Luna asked.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, Clarke softly answered, “No, he didn’t.” Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but she actually felt pissed at Luna for even asking that. It wasn’t like Bellamy had ever come to yoga class before. That was always her and Raven. He’d gone to Lamaze class with her, to learn everything he could about bringing a child into the world. Because he was her partner. He was gonna be there for her. Or . . . at least that’s what they’d planned on.

“Tell him I said hi,” Luna said. She glided back towards the front of the room, impossibly beautiful as ever, and Clarke felt her anger subside. Luna hadn’t meant to upset her. It’d been an innocent question, one that she hadn’t realized would hit so hard.

“Wow,” Clarke said in surprise. “Someone who actually doesn’t know what’s been going on.”

Raven unfolded her yoga mat and plopped it down on the floor. “She doesn’t strike me as the type who’d be into small town gossip.”

“Still . . . I thought everyone had heard by now.” It was probably silly to think that people were sitting around talking about her all the time, though. Sure, Arkadia was small, but people had larger things in life to worry about. Still, she wanted to know just how far the conversations were reaching, so she asked Raven, “Have you heard people talking about it?”

“No,” Raven said, leaning to the side to stretch out. “But I’m your best friend. And most everyone knows I’m your best friend. It’s not like they’d say anything to me.”

“What about Murphy?” she asked.

Raven made a face. “No, Murphy’s not saying anything.”

“No, I mean has he heard anything?” Clarke clarified. People wouldn’t talk bad about her to Raven, but maybe to him . . .

“Oh.” Raven stood up straight, pulling her arm across her chest to continue stretching. “Yeah,” she said. “A couple of things.”

“True things?” Clarke asked. Raven’s silence was all the answer she needed. “Well . . . better than rumors, I guess,” she decided. At least the truth was something she could own up to. Rumors, on the other hand, would be something she had to combat. “I’m sure it’s all pretty harsh, though, right?” she guessed. After all, people liked to gossip about the scandalous stuff.

“Some of it,” Raven admitted. “But he stands up for you. I mean . . . look, it’s not like everyone here is living in the Dark Ages or anything, but abortion is just . . . it’s one of those things where everyone has their own stance on it, and it’s really hard to get some people to change their minds. And then you throw the Bellamy thing into the mix, and . . . well, you know how people in this town feel about Bellamy. He’s still their star quarterback, their football hero. They love him.”

Clarke looked downward for a moment and mumbled, “He’s easy to love.”

“But people are gonna stop talking about it eventually, though,” Raven assured her. “Probably as soon as you have Avery. Everyone gets distracted by cute babies.”

So all she had to do to get people to stop talking about the baby she’d aborted was to give birth to one? Lovely. But someday years in the future, when Avery was no longer a baby but rather someone old enough to understand, Clarke knew she’d have to sit her down and have a very real conversation with her. About the sibling she’d never know. Because it’d be better if she heard about it from her mom than from anyone else in Arkadia.

Raven walked over to the drinking fountain to fill her water bottle up before the class began in a few minutes, and Clarke waited until she came back to ask her friend, “What’s this been like for you?” She’d spent the better part of the past couple weeks thinking almost entirely about herself, and _her_ relationship with Bellamy. But there were other people in her life, so there were other peopled involved whether they wanted to be or not. “Because you’ve been really good to me, you and Harper both,” she said. “And Murphy. Everyone. But . . . they didn’t know me back then, and you did. You knew me, and you knew what Bellamy and I were like together. So are you disappointed?”

Raven didn’t answer.

“It’s okay if you are,” Clarke said. “You can just tell me.”

Hesitating for a moment, Raven finally answered with a very honest, “I’m still processing, to be honest.”

Clarke nodded, figuring that was what Bellamy was doing, too. Except he had more to process. “That’s fair,” she said. She’d had years to come to terms with her decision, and even now, because she’d kept Bellamy in the dark about it, it wasn’t something she could totally reconcile with her conscience. It probably never would be.

“But I still love you,” Raven made sure to add.

Clarke smiled a bit. “Thanks.” That was the kind of thing she needed to hear right now. But it would have been nicer to have heard it from Bellamy. That was who she _really_ needed to hear it from.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy wasn’t sure why the hell the school’s track was empty when it was fucking track season. They had enough people out to make a team on both the girls and boys sides. But apparently practices either happened in the morning or were optional. Either way, he wasn’t surprised that no one in town seemed to have faith in them making it to state.

Since the track was empty, Bellamy decided to use it for himself, just to have a place to run. Four times around gave him a mile, so it was easy to keep track of how far he’d gone. He set his watch to time himself and then proceeded to get pissed when he didn’t make his intended mile time. So he took off again, feet pounding the track as his heart pumped rapidly in his chest. It was warm out, and it didn’t take much to get him sweating, so he was pretty drenched by the time he finished up his second mile, once again taking longer than he’d wanted to. As he neared the line he’d started at, he slowed his pace, because he wasn’t alone out there anymore. Miller had come to join him.

“Look at us,” his friend said, motioning to the football field the track surrounded. “Let’s do the time warp, huh?”

Bellamy slowed to a stop and put his hands on his hips as he struggled to catch his breath. “Just wanted to go for a run.” He hated that this actually tired him out nowadays. He definitely wasn’t a kid anymore.

“You should’ve called me,” Miller said. “I’m down to work out anytime.”

He wasn’t out there just for the sake of working out, though. In fact, it wasn’t really about that at all. “Thought it might clear my head if I came out here alone,” he said.

“And did it?” Miller asked.

Oh, if only, but there was too much up there to clear. “No,” he answered. It was either this or alcohol, though, and this seemed more productive, wouldn’t worry his mom as much. “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked his friend.

“Oh, I just got out of a meeting with the new athletic director,” Miller replied. “Turns out they need a new assistant football coach to try to turn this dumpster fire of a program around.”

They definitely did, but . . . Bellamy was surprised he hadn’t gotten a phone call about it. “You gonna do it?” he asked.

Miller shrugged. “Maybe. I could use the extra money.”

_So could I_ , Bellamy thought.

“I’m sure they would’ve asked you if . . .”

“If I hadn’t gotten a girl pregnant in high school?” he filled in. “Yeah, the PTA would probably have a field day with that one.” In light of the recent news, parents probably wouldn’t want him coaching their kid.

“I was gonna say if you didn’t have a baby on the way,” Miller said. “They know you’re gonna be busy. Or maybe they’re just holding out to offer you the head coach position someday.”

Bellamy didn’t want to expect too much, so he remained glum and said sarcastically, “Or maybe I’m just doing such a bang-up job as a janitor that they don’t wanna let me go.”

Miller shot him a sympathetic look.

“You should do it,” Bellamy said, quickly trying to deflect the pity. “Take the job, I mean. Team’s crap nowadays. You could help ‘em out.” Maybe if the football team stared winning, there would be a resurgence of some actual school spirit around town.

“I gotta think about it,” Miller said. “Maybe I need to try clear my head, too. You got a few more laps in you?”

Bellamy’s legs felt tired, but hell, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his day. Instead of answering, he just took off, and Miller sprinted after him. As they fell into step beside each other, Miller asked, “What lap is this?”

“Nine.”

“Holy shit, man. How much stuff do you have on your mind?”

“A lot.” There was Clarke and . . . well, Clarke, mostly. And Avery. Lots of Avery, too.

“Well, I can keep up with this pace,” Miller said. “I think. You wanna talk about it?”

Bellamy slowed down just a bit, grumbling, “What’s there to say?” And then the words just started pouring out. “I’m still in love with a girl who betrayed me. I wanna be there for her, but I don’t know how to do that anymore. She’s gonna have a baby in a little over a week, and I was all set to be the father until I found out I fathered someone else. And now I don’t know if I can be the kind of dad Avery needs and deserves. I don’t know if can help give her a happy family. Because this whole thing really fucked me up, you know?”

“It’d fuck anyone up,” Miller said.

But it wasn’t just _anyone_ who was dealing with this. It was him. And he didn’t feel like he was dealing with it very well.

All talked out for the time being, Bellamy picked up speed. Despite how tired he felt, he surged forward, putting some distance between himself and his friend. “Hey, Bellamy, wait!” Miller called after him. “Slow down!”

But he didn’t slow down. He just kept running on his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just getting from the couch to the door was a hell of an effort for Clarke. She felt like she was going in slow motion, so slow, in fact, that she halfway expected whomever was on the other side to be long gone by the time she opened the door. But when she finally did, there was in fact still somebody standing there. Not Bellamy, not the person she wanted to see the most. But not someone like Finn, either.

“Alyssa,” she said, both confused and surprised to see her dad’s girlfriend out on her porch. What was she doing there?

“Hey,” Alyssa greeted. “Sorry to just stop by. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, you’re fine. Come in,” Clarke invited, stepping aside to open the door wider. “I was just being lazy.”

Alyssa came inside, and Clarke noted the lack of makeup, the simple ponytail. When she wasn’t glammed up, she looked a lot more like a regular girl instead of a could-be supermodel. She actually looked prettier with less makeup on. “Sorry to make you get up,” she said.

Clarke shrugged and shut the door. “I’m just gonna go back down again.” She struggled back to the couch, plopped down on the middle cushion, and felt like a whale. Muting the television, she said, “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, you, too.” Alyssa sat down next to her and said, “I really wanted to come with your dad when he visited, but . . . I figured that was more of a family thing.”

“Well . . . you’re part of the family now,” Clarke reminded her. The engagement was coming, surely. And once that happened, it probably wouldn’t take her dad long to put together a wedding. With all his money, he could probably make things happen really fast.

_Two weddings_ , Clarke thought. Her mom and Kane, and her dad and Alyssa. She’d probably be a bridesmaid at both. And that was really gonna be something, wasn’t it? Standing up at that alter, watching them get married while thinking about how she’d turned down Bellamy’s proposal.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing with . . . everything going on,” Alyssa said, approaching the obvious topic of conversation slowly and delicately, as if she’d rehearsed it.

Clarke nodded slowly and admitted, “It’s been tough.” Understatement, but . . . she and Alyssa were still getting to know each other. She wasn’t sure how deeply she wanted to dive into her feelings with her.

“I’ll bet,” Alyssa said. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got a good support system with your friends, but I just wanted to let you know . . . if you need anything, anyone to talk to . . . I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said. Although she wasn’t sure she’d ever take her up on the offer, it was nice to know it existed.

“And you don’t have to feel like you can’t talk to me about anything baby-related just because I had a miscarriage. I’m here for you.”

Truth be told, that _was_ part of the reason she felt so reluctant to say much to Alyssa, though. It felt wrong to talk about how she’d _chosen_ to abort a baby when Alyssa’s had been taken from her without her consent. “That means a lot,” she said, thinking about how much she’d misjudged this woman at first. She wasn’t just some gold-digging bimbo. She wasn’t that at all, actually. She’d been nothing but nice, even when Clarke hadn’t been so nice to her.

“So how did you find out the first time?” Alyssa asked, angling her body towards her.

“Oh, I . . . I just started having symptoms, I guess,” Clarke recalled. “I couldn’t ignore it.”

“It’s scary,” Alyssa said. “How’d you feel?”

Even now, years later, she still remembered the speculation, which had quickly turned to worry, which had then gone on to turn into panic. And even fear. The fear of telling people. The fear of it actually being true.

****

_Clarke used her fork to push food around her plate, trying to make it look like she’d eaten more than she actually had. It probably would have tasted good—best restaurant in town and all—if she wasn’t feeling slightly queasy._

_“Well, this was nice,” her mother proclaimed. “We should have more family nights like this.”_

_“We should,” her father agreed. “We will.” He glanced at Clarke, as if waiting for her to agree, but when she didn’t, he seemed to notice how much food was left on her plate. “How was the spaghetti, Clarke?” he asked. “You didn’t eat much.”_

_She’d managed one slice of garlic bread and about half the spaghetti before her stomach had told her to stop. “I’m not really hungry,” she mumbled, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Because it wasn’t a big deal. She’d been battling a stomach bug or something lately._

_“Well, we can probably get a box to take it home,” her dad said, motioning the waiter over._

_“Yeah,” she agreed, setting her fork down. Maybe she’d be hungrier tomorrow._

_Her parents did most of the talking on the short drive home, which was fine. She didn’t have much to add to the conversation and tuned out of it for the most part. While they discussed work or politics or something she had very little interest in, she sat in the backseat and looked out the window. They drove past Bellamy’s house. But obviously Bellamy wasn’t there._

_When they got home and walked inside, her stomach started to revolt. She tried to disguise it as best she could, but she felt like she was about to get majorly sick, so she needed to get to a toilet soon. Trying to hold it all in, she handed the box of leftovers to her mom and said, “Will you put this in the fridge for me? I have to go to the bathroom.”_

_“Sure,” her mom said._

_She moved quickly through the living room, waiting until she heard her mom and dad start talking again to clutch one hand to her stomach and pick up the pace even more. By the time she got to the stairs, she was nearly running, and by the time she got to her bathroom, she’d clamped one hand over her mouth, just in case. She’d just barely gotten down on her knees and lifted up the toilet seat when she lurched forward and threw up. It was disgusting and almost painful in the way her whole body shuddered and broke out in a sudden sweat. She thought that might be it, but then another wave hit, and she threw up some more. Tears seeped out the corners of her eyes, because it was so uncomfortable, but there was no controlling it. She really hoped her parents couldn’t hear her._

_Once she’d finally stopped and managed to catch her breath and calm her body down a bit, she flushed the toilet, sat down in front of it, and just focused on breathing, trying to pull one steady breath in right after another. Except they weren’t steady, because she wasn’t calm. Not really. She’d vomited a couple days ago, too, before she’d even eaten anything. And that wasn’t normal._

_She definitely still felt nauseous, but at least she felt better. Physically, at least. Emotionally . . . that was a whole different story._

_She had to lie to her mom and dad—just a little white lie—and tell them she had a stomach ache that night in order to get out of watching a movie with them. Her mom told her to take some Pepto-Bismol, but the last thing she wanted to do was put even more things into her stomach, so she downplayed how crappy she was feeling and said just needed to get comfy in bed and go to sleep. As far as her parents knew, it was just a stomach ache, no reason to be concerned, so they told her to get some sleep and assured her she’d feel better in the morning. But she highly doubted that._

_That night, she lay in bed, wide awake, trying to resist the urge to look some things up on her phone. It was probably a really bad idea. When she’d been little, she’d liked to pretend she was a doctor like her mom, so whenever she’d had a sore throat or stuffy nose or even just a bug bite on her arm, she’d gotten online to try to diagnose herself. And that had usually caused her to feel scared, because everything online made it seem like she was dying. So she’d learned to stop doing that a long time ago and just go directly to her mom if she was feeling under the weather. But . . . what if it was something she couldn’t go to her mom about this time?_

_She sat up in bed and switched from her phone to her laptop, going straight to Google. She typed in_ ‘symptoms nausea’ _and of course pregnancy was one of the first things that came up. But there were other things, too, like food poisoning and the stomach flu. There were plenty of other mundane things it could be._

_Except nausea wasn’t her only symptom, was it? She didn’t have to add_ ‘missed period’ _into her Google search to know what kind of results that would bring up._

You’re just late, _she reminded herself. Just like she’d been reminding herself for the past four days. Girls were late all the time. It didn’t necessarily mean that she was . . ._

_She made the mistake of venturing to a website that listed all the early signs and symptoms of pregnancy, mostly because she was hoping to see all sorts of symptoms she_ didn’t _have. Except she_ had _felt tired lately, and she_ had _dealt with a couple of headaches. And there were other things that fit with how she was feeling, too._

You’re not pregnant, _she told herself, but she got up out of bed anyway, turned on her bedside lamp, and walked over to the full-length mirror next to her closet, just to study her reflection. She turned to the side, inspecting her belly, trying to be honest with herself about whether or not it looked . . . bigger. It didn’t. Physically, she didn’t look any different than she usually did. She didn’t_ look _pregnant, so . . . maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was stressing and worrying about nothing._

_But what if she wasn’t? What if the nausea wasn’t nothing? What if her late period wasn’t just late, but absent altogether? After all, even though she was on the pill, that wasn’t one-hundred percent effective, and the last night she and Bellamy had been together, they hadn’t bothered to use a condom._

You’re not pregnant, _she told herself again, resting her trembling hands on her flat stomach. She kept consciously trying to push that thought through her head, trying like hell to buy into it. Because she had to. Bellamy was gone, off living a whole new life without her. She couldn’t be carrying his baby._

****

“I was panicked,” Clarke recalled. “But in a quiet way.”

Alyssa nodded sympathetically, as if she’d felt the same. “Did you take a home test?” she asked.

“Yeah.” That was another moment she’d never forget, seeing the result appear on the little window, confirmation that her life had changed forever. “I went to Polis just to buy it,” she said. “Couldn’t have anyone at the pharmacy here in town recognize me.”

“And did you take it alone?”

The corners of her mouth drooped downward, and she nodded sadly. There had been a split second when she’d been reading the instructions and feeling overwhelmed by them, despite how simple they were, that she’d thought about calling Bellamy to tell him what was going on, then staying on the phone with him while she took the test and found out the result. But she’d chosen differently. “Afterward, I didn’t tell my parents for a week,” she said, remembering how quick they’d been to assume she was just having another down week because she was missing Bellamy. “I was too scared.”

“At least you told them, though,” Alyssa said. “I never did.”

The conversation had pushed Clarke so far down memory lane that she almost didn’t catch that last part. “You mean you . . .?” She trailed off, giving her father’s girlfriend a curious look.

Alyssa nodded. “I was fifteen, end of my freshman year of high school. There was this guy who was a senior, and I thought he was so cute.” She rolled her eyes. “Turned out to be a real jerk, though.”

_I can relate_ , Clarke thought, not sure why she’d ever settled for a relationship with a guy like Finn when she’d known all along what it was like to be with Bellamy.

“When I told him I was pregnant, he told me to take care of it,” Alyssa said with a sad shrug. “So I did. Never told my mom anything. Or my grandma, or anyone else who could’ve helped me make my decision or been there to support me.”

Clarke couldn’t imagine never telling her parents, just going through with an abortion all on her own. Most states didn’t even allow it, because it was a major medical procedure. So either Alyssa had grown up in one of those states, or she’d gone somewhere pretty damn shady to have it done. Either way, it sounded awful. “I had no idea,” Clarke said, shocked to realize they had something so personal in common.

“Nobody does,” Alyssa said. “To this day, your dad’s the only person I’ve ever told.”

Clarke’s eyes widened as she envisioned all the ways that conversation may have gone. “How’d he react?”

“Oh, he’s always been understanding,” Alyssa replied. “Or at least he’s tried to be.”

“That’s good,” Clarke said. “He was really disappointed in me for going through with it. But I guess he didn’t even know you back then, so . . . he can’t really be disappointed in you.” Part of her wondered, though, even as their relationship strengthened again, if her father would always look at her differently in light of what she’d done.

“Your dad loves you, Clarke,” Alyssa assured her. “And you did the right thing by telling him and your mom when you found out. I wish I’d told someone.” Her eyes teared up, but she blinked them back quickly.

“You didn’t have to tell me,” Clarke said. Although now that she had, it made a lot more sense why she’d come here instead of just picking up the phone.

“I know. But I just thought you might wanna talk to someone who can empathize. A lot.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I deserve sympathy,” Clarke argued. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Alyssa insisted. “You were just a kid. You were sixteen.”

“And look at me now. Sixteen versus twenty-two. Is it really that much of a difference?”

“Yeah,” Alyssa answered without hesitation. “Listen, it’s good that you’re having this baby now, but you’re not some awful person just for having an abortion back in high school.”

“But I was almost seventeen,” Clarke continued to protest. “I was gonna be a junior. I could’ve handled it. Or at the very least, I could’ve told Bellamy.”

Alyssa didn’t dispute that last part. And how could she? There was no way to justify keeping it a secret from him. “How’s he doing?” she asked.

Clarke shook her head somberly. “Not so good.” Their conversation at the hospital had been . . . a start. But it felt like a slow start. And what if they just stalled out from there?

“That’s the part I _can’t_ empathize with,” Alyssa said. “The guy who got me pregnant . . . he wasn’t a good guy. I didn’t owe anything to him. But Bellamy . . .” She let her sentence fade.

“Bellamy’s a great guy,” Clarke filled in. “Always has been. And I’m the girl who broke his heart.”

“But broken hearts don’t always stay broken forever,” Alyssa pointed out. “Look at your mom and dad.”

Clarke made a face, not exactly comforted by that reference. “My mom and dad got a divorce.”

“Okay, maybe not the best comparison,” Alyssa acknowledged. “I just meant . . . your mom found someone, and your dad found me, so . . .”

Clarke’s stomach clenched. Because all that made her do was think about Bellamy finding someone else someday.

“But just think about everything you and Bellamy have already overcome,” Alyssa said. “You guys were apart for . . . how many years again?”

“Five.” She’d had half a decade to try to forget what she’d done.

“Five years, and you still found your way back together. Like a fairytale,” Alyssa said, smiling encouragingly.

Was it a fairytale, though? Could any story like theirs truly be a fairytale? She wasn’t really a princess. Princesses didn’t abort babies.

“If that’s not meant to be,” Alyssa said, “then I don’t know what is.”

It was nice to hear that, especially from someone who wasn’t one of her best friends. Because people like Raven and Harper were practically required to be encouraging. It was their job to try to keep her spirits up. But Alyssa was further removed from the whole situation, and she really seemed to believe what she was saying. Clarke wanted to believe her, too, but it felt risky. After all, there was a fine line between being hopeful and getting her hopes up.


	63. Chapter 63

_Chapter 63_

Bellamy stayed in bed longer than was necessary Saturday morning. He kept trying to fall back asleep, but it never really worked, and after about forty-five minutes of just lying there, thinking about things, he finally decided to drag his ass out to the bathroom so he could start the day.

When he emerged from the bathroom and headed into the kitchen, he found that his sister was there, helping herself to some breakfast in the form of soggy cereal. “Ew, put a shirt on,” she told him.

“You’re the only girl who’s ever said that to me,” he responded as he opened up the refrigerator.

“Cocky much?” she teased.

“It is what it is.” He grabbed a half-empty carton of orange juice and drank straight from it. “What’re you doing here?” he asked her.

“Lincoln’s brother’s visiting today,” she said, leaning back against the counter as she continued to scoop cereal out of her bowl. “They need their bro-time. So I figured I’d come visit my big bro.”

“So you’re here to annoy me,” he concluded.

She huffed in mock outrage. “Since when have I annoyed you?”

“Since birth.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” she deadpanned. She brought her cereal bowl up to her lips and slurped whatever was left of it, then set it down in the sink. “How’s Mom’s ankle?” she asked.

“Better,” he said, putting the orange juice back in the refrigerator. (Nobody drank it but him, so it was fine.) “She probably shouldn’t have gone to work, but . . . you know Mom.”

“Yeah.” Octavia followed him into the living room and sat down with him on the couch. “Well, just us then. What do you wanna do today?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she pressed, and he could tell by her tone that she was hinting at something, something that became a lot more obvious when she added, “Because, you know, there’s this graduation happening today that we might wanna go to.”

Yeah, he hadn’t forgotten about that. In fact, it’d been one of the things on his mind that had prevented him from falling back asleep. But no matter how much he thought about it, he kept coming to the same conclusion: “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

She pouted. “Why not?”

“Because . . . it’s supposed to be a good day for Clarke,” he attempted to explain.

“She’ll feel pretty good if you show up there.”

Maybe. But maybe not. He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to risk it. “We haven’t had the chance to smooth things over yet,” he said. “And that’s not something she should have to deal with today.”

“So you’re just gonna skip out on your own girlfriend’s college graduation?” she said. “After she sat there and watched you graduate high school. You should be there for her.”

A couple weeks ago, he’d planned to be. But things were different now, and he didn’t want to make things awkward or uncomfortable for her. And he didn’t exactly want that for himself, either. “Her parents are gonna be there,” he said. His last conversations with both Abby and Jake hadn’t exactly been pleasant. “I can’t . . .” He rubbed his forehead, feeling the dull ache of anxiety right behind his skull. “I can’t deal with all that right now. I’ll just fuck things up if I . . .” He trailed off, frustrated with himself for being such a . . . a liability on a day like this. That was really what he felt like. He felt like, if he showed up, he’d just hinder her ability to enjoy the day and celebrate a pretty big accomplishment.

“But Bellamy,” Octavia said, “what about next weekend when . . .”

“O, I just . . . I gotta get through this weekend first,” he said. One day at a time. But he knew damn well what next weekend was supposed to be. He’d been looking forward to it for months.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke rode with her mother and Kane to the auditorium where graduation was being held. It was right there on campus, which meant parking was a nightmare. Luckily, Kane dropped her and her mom off, so she didn’t have to waddle there from blocks away. He found a parking spot and rejoined them at the front entrance, and they all walked in together. Most of the people mulling about weren’t actually graduates, but friends and family of. Everyone was dressed up, and expressions ranged from a mix of happy-to-be-there to dreading-a-boring-commencement.

“Is your father here yet?” her mom asked.

“Yeah,” Clarke said. She scanned the rows of seats, looking for the section where he’d texted her he was at. She spotted him and Alyssa and pointed them out for her mom. “He’s over there.”

“Oh, with his girlfriend,” her mom said. “She looks young enough to be graduating today.”

Clarke felt compelled to . . . defend Alyssa a bit, not that her mom was attacking. She was just being salty. “She’s actually really nice,” Clarke informed her. Talking with her the other day had been . . . unexpectedly necessary.

“It was good of them to come,” Kane said. “Who else is here?”

“Um, Raven’s around here somewhere,” Clarke said, scanning the crowd. “With Murphy, I think. You guys could probably go sit next to them.”

“Where are you supposed to go?” her mom asked her.

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” She saw a few students in maroon caps and gowns scurrying in the opposite direction of the auditorium seats, so she’d probably end up where she needed to if she just followed them.

“Do you want me to go with you?” her mom asked.

“I’m good. Just settle in,” she said, handing off her purse to her mom so she didn’t have to bother to keep track of that. “It’s not gonna be a quick ceremony.”

“I’ll let you know what section we end up in,” her mom said as Kane practically dragged her away. “And look for us when you walk up to get your diploma. I wanna get a good picture.”

Clarke nodded mutely and waited until those two were on their way before she headed off in the same direction she’d seen the other graduates going. It didn’t take her long to bump into a familiar face.

“Hey!” Harper exclaimed as they rounded a corner and nearly collided.

“Hey. Do you know where we’re supposed to be?” Clarke asked her.

“Yeah, it’s just around the corner. I was looking for you.”

“I’m slow-moving,” Clarke groaned. “And really uncomfortable.” She saw an open bench, so she seized her opportunity and sat down. “I don’t know how I’m gonna sit there for an hour and a half.”

“Oh, god,” Harper said, taking a seat beside her. “You think that’s really how long it’ll take?”

“That’s how long Raven’s graduation took last year, remember?”

“God, just give us our diplomas and let us go already,” Harper groaned.

“Seriously.” Clarke winced a bit as her stomach cramped up. Happened all the time these days.

“You okay?” Harper asked.

“Yeah.” Sitting through a college graduation was torturous enough under normal circumstances, but sitting through one when she was this far along in her pregnancy just sucked even more. “Do we get to sit next to each other?” she wondered.

“No. We have to sit by department, and then alphabetically within the department,” Harper informed her. “I’m gonna be way on the other side of the aisle.”

“Great.” That meant she wasn’t even going to be able to chat with one of her best friends to pass the time. She’d actually have to pretend to listen to whatever speakers were up at the podium. “So is Monty here?” she asked.

“Yep,” Harper chirped. “Is Bellamy?” Clarke must have looked like a kicked puppy when Harper asked that, because Harper sort of grimaced and then apologized. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“No, it’s okay,” Clarke assured her. It was a valid question, totally made sense for her to wonder about it. “I didn’t expect him to be here,” she said. “I hurt him really bad, Harper. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to forgive me.”

“Oh, he will,” Harper insisted. “He loves you.”

“Yeah, but he hates what I did to him. _I_ hate what I did to him.” Her eyes started to feel watery, and she had to blink back the tears. But a few spilled over despite her best efforts to keep them in. “God, leave it to me to make even graduation day sad,” she said, wiping them away. She tried her best to make light of it by adding, “I won’t cry so much once I have the baby, I promise. It’s just . . . stupid hormones.”

“Or it’s just that you’re going through a lot,” Harper said. “This would be hard even on someone who wasn’t pregnant.”

It would be, but . . . Clarke still didn’t feel like she deserved the sympathy. “It’s my own fault,” she said. Harper opened her mouth as if she wanted to protest that, but Clarke desperately did not want to ruin her friend’s graduation day. So with a great deal of effort, she got up and said, “Come on, let’s go get where we need to be.” They had a commencement to take part in, one that was set to start in about twenty minutes. For a few hours, she could shelve her sadness and just go through the motions.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy tried his best to just . . . ignore Octavia. It sounded bad, but even though he loved his little sister, he wasn’t in the mood to have her hanging around all day, finding unique and creative ways to mention graduation in every single conversation they had. It didn’t matter what they were talking about, she found a way to bring it back to that. Finally, he got fed up with it and sought an escape from her in the shower. He stayed in there longer than was necessary, mostly because when he got out of there, he wanted to be able to use the excuse of, “Oh, graduation’s already started. Too late to show up now.”

The water had started to cool off a while ago, to the point where it was beginning to get uncomfortable. But still, he stayed in there, all those thoughts that had kept him awake that morning churning around even more in his mind now that he’d been awake for a while. All thoughts of Clarke, of course. Memories. Good ones. Like that moment that’d started it all: her walking into the locker room, surprising him with her brazen request to sleep with her. Looking back, it felt pretty surreal that it’d led to so much.

Once the floodgates of memories opened, they came at him like a barrage, not so much in chronological order, but more all over the place. He remembered seeing her walk into that bar a couple months ago, shorter hair than he’d been used to seeing on her, but the same smile. He remembered dancing with her at the prom—his princess—and taking pictures with her not all that long ago out on the beach. Little things, too, like walking down the school hallways with her, holding her hand, and reaching over to touch her in the middle of the night. And bigger things, of course, like being there with her to see the first image of Avery on an ultrasound. And making love to her in a hotel room on their last night of an abbreviated summer. Of course.

He slammed his fist against the wall of the shower, wishing he had a better handle on things in his life right now. But he never had, had he? Once football had fallen by the wayside, he’d never really had a purpose, going from job to job, location to location, just wandering aimlessly through his own life. Until . . . until he’d come back to Arkadia and started up things with the love of his life again. Until he’d decided to become a father to a child that wasn’t even his. Then he’d had some purpose. Now, he felt like he was back to having nothing.

It was possible that Octavia was right, that going to that graduation today would have been a good idea. As much as he’d talked himself out of it, he knew he might be making a mistake. But . . . graduation had already started. Too late to show up now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. It was painstaking. Mostly because Clarke was in actual pain. It was an especially achy day she was experiencing, so standing in line waiting for her department’s turn to walk out in the processional felt like it took forever. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t walk very fast, so she felt like she was holding up everyone behind her.

By the time she got to her seat, she was actually out of breath, so she sat down and didn’t plan on getting back up until she had to. But one of the first things the dean of students did was invite all the distinguished graduates, those who had been given academic medals to wear around their necks, to stand and be recognized. Clarke had one for maintaining a 4.0 GPA all throughout college, but as everyone else around her stood, she failed at doing the same. It just took too much effort in that moment to push her very round self up to her feet, so even though a couple people around her offered to help, she just waved it off and decided it was fine to stay seated. No need to draw attention to herself and be that pregnant girl who couldn’t stand on her own.

Clarke hadn’t bothered to grab a program, so she had no idea how many speakers were set to come up to the microphone, but she was anticipating a lot. She didn’t know any of them, nor did she _really_ care about what they were saying. The opening speaker talked about the history of Arkadia State College, and the next one shared her own story about earning her undergraduate degree there before moving on to, of all things, med school. Clarke made sure to avoid all eye contact with her mom, who had snagged the perfect seat in the auditorium next to Raven and Murphy and would surely get all the pictures she wanted.

There were a couple of songs, which almost put Clarke to sleep—in addition to being achy, she was also tired as fuck—and then yet _another_ speaker. This one seemed to be leading to the distribution of the diplomas, though, so at least they were moving along. She was the dean of something or another, and Clarke was all set to tune her out, until the words just started . . . resonating.

“Commencement is a day of becoming,” the speaker proclaimed. “You become someone. Now of course, all of you already are someone. But this is the day when your identity expands, and you become someone new.”

As if in response to that, Clarke felt a ring of pain circle around her stomach and back.

“No longer will you be an undergraduate, but a graduate,” the speaker continued. “I look out at all of you today and see teachers, scientists, and technicians. Artists, musicians, researchers, and developers . . . the list goes on and on.”

_Mothers?_ Clarke wondered. Surely she wasn’t the only person in attendance today who was one of those. There were hundreds upon hundreds of students graduating. She couldn’t possibly have been the only one whose life had . . . sort of veered off course.

“Today is your day to evolve, to grow, to _become_ ,” the speaker said. “To become who you were always meant to be.”

Clarke touched her stomach, letting that sink in. She wasn’t meant to be a doctor, and only time would tell if she was meant to be an artist or a singer. But none of that was as important as what else she was becoming. None of it ever had been.

****

_Sitting on the side of the bathtub, Clarke tried to stop fidgeting with her fingers and tapping her legs nervously. But if she stopped doing those things, then she just ended up staring at that flimsy little strip on the counter. The one she’d turned upside down after she’d gone ahead and peed on it._

_No one was home. Just her and this potentially life-altering test. For the past couple of days, every time she’d felt the urge to go to the bathroom, she’d hoped and prayed to pull down her underwear and see some blood in there. Or to feel some period cramps. Anything to put her mind at ease. But none of that had ever happened, and things were to the point where she couldn’t ignore them anymore. She had to know, for the sake of her own sanity, what was going on in her own body._

_How long had it been? Clarke checked her phone and saw that the five required minutes had passed. But she was going to wait six, just to make sure the test result had enough time to develop. Of course, as she was looking at the time on her phone, it changed to 3:27, which . . . was six minutes. And she didn’t feel ready to look yet, so she decided to wait for seven._

It’s gonna be okay, _she told herself. If the test was positive, she could handle it. And if it was negative, then no one even had to know this had ever even been a concern. One thing was for sure, though: No matter how this turned out, she needed to be more careful in the future. The pill was just not the best option these days. There were alternatives like the implant and the shot, and those were supposedly more reliable._

_When that seventh minute passed, she forced herself to get up and walk over to the sink. She’d waited long enough. Except it still took more courage to turn that test around then she actually felt like she possessed, so she went ahead and paced around a bit, trying to steady her breathing and calm herself down. It really was all gonna be okay. She just had to keep thinking that._

_Her stomach gurgled, almost as if to signal her body’s impatience, so she stopped pacing, stood at the sink, and reached down with both hands to grab the test. She clamped it tightly, counting down in her head starting from ten._

Ten, nine, eight . . .

_Bellamy was a good guy. He wouldn’t leave her to do this alone._

Seven, six, five . . .

_But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He’d be throwing away his entire future just for her._

Four, three . . .

_It was gonna be such a relief if she turned that test over and saw a negative result. Then she’d never even have to tell him about any of this. Or her parents. She could just forget it ever happened._

Two . . .

_She slowed down her counting right at the end._

One . . .

_She squeezed her eyes shut as she flipped over the test and clasped the palm of one hand down over the results window. Gradually, she moved it aside, and then, holding her breath, she opened her eyes and peered down._

_Two pink lines. That meant . . ._

Oh, god.

_She was pregnant._

_Dumbfounded, she just stood there for what felt like a long time, staring at that test, double-checking the little key next to the results window to make sure she was reading it right. It said right there that two lines meant positive and one meant negative. And there were obviously two lines. But still . . . one was a little darker than the other, so did that mean something?_

_Frantically, she set the test down and pulled the instructions back out of the box. There had to be something in there about a false positive, right? A flawed result? She skimmed the microscopic text, devastated to find something about how the shade of the lines was irrelevant. One line could be paler than the other and still be the same type of line. So there were still two of them. Which meant . . ._

_She crumpled up the instructions and shoved them back in the box, feeling irrationally angry at that test in that moment. She wished she could break it in half or flush it down the toilet or something. Because it was such an impersonal thing, didn’t take into account who was taking the test at all. It just showed these two pink lines, and some women were probably really excited to see them, but Clarke felt . . . she felt terrified._

_Despite her best efforts to tell herself that everything was going to be okay, suddenly everything felt like it was_ not _going to be okay. She felt like the world had either dropped out from underneath her or was closing in on her, or maybe both at once. She turned around, her back completely to the test, and wrapped her arms around her stomach, struggling not to cry. Her mouth quivered, though, and her eyes started to sting, and eventually, she couldn’t keep her feelings in. She burst out into tears, the kind that made her whole body shake and crumple forward._

_She’d tried to tell herself that she could handle this, but had she ever really believed it? Because she didn’t believe it now. It didn’t matter that she had two parents who could help her out, parents who had stable jobs and a nice house for her to live in. It didn’t matter that she was a good student and could probably graduate a year early if she put her mind to it. It didn’t even matter that the baby’s father was a really good guy, because this was too much right now. She_ couldn’t _handle it. And she felt like the biggest idiot in the world for letting it happen._

_Fears flooded her mind so fast that she couldn’t distinguish one from the other. Fears about how her parents would react, about what this would do to Bellamy’s college plans and his future in football, and even stupid stuff like what people in school would say. And what was she supposed to do? They didn’t make cheerleading skirts for pregnant girls, and teen mothers usually were too busy caring for their child to find any time to study for the ACT test. There were so many statistics she’d seen online these past few days about how this kind of thing just screwed up people’s lives._

_Somehow, she managed to get her sobbing under control, but only because she felt like she had to get rid of the evidence of all of this before her mom and dad came home from work. She couldn’t have one of them finding this test or even the box or the instructions. She couldn’t have them find out that way. So she stuffed the test into the box, closed it up, and contemplated where would be the best option to throw it away. Maybe she could shove it down into the bottom of their kitchen trash can and then take the trash outside. They’d never find it then._

_She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed the box both at the same time, wishing she could muster up at least a little bit of joy. Because even though this wasn’t what she’d wanted or ever pictured for herself, it was still . . . her baby. And she felt awful for not being the least bit happy about it. How could she be, though? She wasn’t exactly a kid herself anymore, but she wasn’t an adult yet, either. She was sixteen years old. She wasn’t ready to be a mom._

****

As the speaker kept going on and on about this idea of becoming, Clarke shifted around in her seat, struggling to ease the pain radiating around her midsection. The pain in her back just wasn’t letting up, and the cramps in her stomach actually felt like they were extending down into her thighs. Which was weird.

Thankfully, there were no more speakers after that. The dean of students once again returned to the microphone, but this time it was to start handing out the diplomas. They started over on the other side of the aisle with the College of Education. Then came Harper’s section with the College of Fine Arts. Harper was so excited that she nearly tripped on her way down the steps, but in typical dancer fashion, she recovered gracefully and waved at the crowd as they laughed at her. Clarke couldn’t even fully appreciate the comedy of the moment, though, because . . . everything just _hurt_.

She desperately wanted them to pick up the pace and start moving things along, because the longer she sat there, the more she started to fear that these were not just the Braxton Hicks contractions she’d become accustomed to. Those usually didn’t last as long, and this felt more . . . intense.

Finally, at long last, it was time for the students of the College of Arts and Sciences to get their diplomas. It was the largest group, so there was still some waiting, but Clarke was at least up towards the beginning of the alphabet. There were only two rows in front of her. But in a way, that was concerning, because she felt like she knew what was happening, or at least _about_ to happen, and she didn’t want it to happen right when she stood up. She felt like, as long as she just kept sitting and didn’t move, she could keep everything . . . inside. But sitting was eventually no longer a possibility. Once it was her row’s turn to stand up and shuffle towards the stage, she had no choice. She clenched everything down there as tightly as she could and groaned as she got to her feet. She kept one hand wrapped around her stomach and slowly made her way forward, taking, for lack of a better term, baby steps.

_Not yet_ , she thought to herself, hoping Avery could somehow pick up on telepathy. _Just a little bit longer_. She was definitely on her way to becoming someone, but she had to become a graduate first. The only college left after this one was the College of Architecture, and there were only about a dozen students in that one. Once they were done, then they could all do the thing where they switched their tassels from one side to the other, and then maybe she and her family could grab a few quick pictures outside before she clued them in as to what was happening.

Or maybe not, because when she was only a few feet away form that stage, she felt a faint trickle between her legs.

_No, no, no_ , she protested internally. _Just wait_. She was probably seconds away from walking up on that stage now. All she needed was a few more seconds.

The stupid guy in front of her of course had to take eighty-four years to do some stupid poses while his family whooped and hollered at the top of their lungs for him. He did this dumb sideways peace sign with one hand and then a fist pump with the other, and for some reason, people laughed at him, so that just encouraged him to ham it up even more. Clarke wanted to shout at him to hurry the hell up so they could call her name, because she didn’t have any fucking time to spare.

At last, he stepped down off the stage, and it was finally her turn. “Clarke Griffin,” the dean announced, “graduating with high honors.”

Nervously, she smiled and practically tip-toed forward as her family and friends cheered for her. It was mostly Raven that she heard, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that her parents were both snapping pictures. When they took a closer look at them, they’d probably notice her cringing as she received her diploma.

“Congratulations,” the dean said, shaking her hand.

She couldn’t even say thanks in response, but she was pretty sure that if she tried to speak, it’d just come out in the form of a whimper. So walking with her legs close together, she hobbled to the edge of the stage, but before she could carefully step down any of the stairs . . . she felt it. A gush. A gush of water. She’d read all about how it was a gush for some women and never more than just a trickle for others, but . . . this was enough to make her gasp.

She froze, dropping her diploma, and grabbed her stomach with both hands. Her mouth dropped open, and there she stood in front of her entire graduating class, officially entering labor.

It took people a moment to figure out what was going on, but once they did, their mouths dropped open, too, and some of them started whispering to each other.

“Oh,” the dean said. “We might need, um . . .”

_Oh, god, is there water everywhere?_ Clarke thought. She wasn’t about to bother looking down, not that it would do her any good anyway, because her stomach was too rounded to see anything. But she was wearing a dress underneath her graduation robe, and she had a feeling there was . . . fluid on the stage. _Oh, god._

“Let’s help her sit down,” the dean said, “or . . .”

A few students came up to her, holding out their hands to help her down off the stage, and though she took them, she didn’t intend to sit back down. No, her college graduation was officially over.

Glancing up to where her mom had been sitting, she saw that her parents, her future step-parents, and her friends were already out of their seats and headed towards the nearest exit. Murphy was walking backward and had his phone out, so that was lovely. He’d probably recorded the whole thing. Great footage for his blog.

When she got out of that auditorium and was heading out to the parking lot with her mom’s arms around her shoulders, Clarke couldn’t help but complain, “That’s so embarrassing.”

“No, it’s fine,” Raven assured her. “You can’t control when you go into labor.”

“Yeah, I was bored as fuck,” Murphy said. “This livened things up a bit.”

“Now all my life, I’m gonna be known as that girl who went into labor at graduation,” Clarke grumbled.

“I think that’s kind of cool,” Harper chirped, and Clarke had to do a bit of a double-take, because she’d been so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t even noticed that both Harper and Monty had left early, too.

“You could’ve stayed,” Clarke told her. She’d probably wanted to do the tassel thing, too.

“Are you crazy?’ Harper said. “This is way more exciting.”

Clarke grimaced. Yeah, that was one word for it. Terrifying was another, but . . .

“Don’t worry, Clarke,” her mother said as they neared her car, “we’re gonna get you to the hospital, and everything’s gonna be smooth sailing.”

Clarke let out a shaky breath, trying to remember everything she’d learned in Lamaze class about how to make this as easy an experience as possible. “I have a—a bag packed at home,” she stammered. “I need that.”

“I can swing by and get that for you,” her father offered.

“Thanks.” Bellamy had put everything in there that she’d needed, and . . . he did all that for her. “I’m not gonna have the baby in the car, right?” she asked her mom, suddenly fearing that she might have one of those super quick labors. It would be just her luck if they had to pull over on the side of the road and deliver the baby right there.

“No. You’ve got plenty of time,” her mom assured her. “Just stay calm. Remember, you’re going through a normal, natural process. And I’m right here with you.”

“Right,” Clarke said, trying to take a steadying breath again. Even if they did end up on the side of the road, her mom was a freaking doctor. There was no better person to be going through all of this with.

Except for maybe . . .

“Yeah, we’re all right here,” Raven reminded her, opening up the car door for her.

“Okay.” Clarke let her mom help her into the back seat, and the weirdest thought about feeling bad for possibly leaking water and other fluids onto the nice leather seats crossed her mind.

“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” her father said as he and Alyssa scampered towards their car. Harper and Monty did the same. Her mom took off after her dad, though, saying something Clarke couldn’t understand.

“Wait a minute, Clarke,” Raven said, grabbing hold of the door before Clarke could try to close it. “Should I call Bellamy?”

For a second, everything just stopped. The discomfort, the weird thoughts, the worries, and even Clarke’s ability to breathe. “I don’t . . . I don’t know,” she answered unsurely. What if he wasn’t even home? What if he’d gone out of town for the weekend or something?

“Well, do you _want_ me to call him?” Raven re-phrased.

Of course she _wanted_ her to. Bellamy was her partner in this. He was the one who’d gone to those Lamaze classes with her, and for the vast majority of this pregnancy, he was the one she’d pictured by her side when Avery came into the world. If things had gone differently, he would have been at that graduation today. And knowing him, he probably would have vaulted down onto the stage or something dramatic like that, swooped her up in his arms, and carried her right out of there.

“He’s not . . .” She shook her head tearfully. “He hasn’t forgiven me.” How was she supposed to ask him to be there after everything she’d put him through? She didn’t have the right to be so selfish. “No, don’t . . . don’t call him,” she said. “He doesn’t have to come. Not after what I did to him.”

Raven looked . . . like she didn’t entirely love that answer. “Are you sure?” she pressed.

Clarke looked up at her sadly, shook her head, and reached out to grab the door handle and pull it shut. No, of course she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything, except for the fact that this baby was officially on its way.


	64. Chapter 64

_Chapter 64_

Bellamy was thankful when Octavia fell asleep on the couch. Because that meant he finally had a reprieve from her not-so-subtle comments about graduation. Not that it mattered much now. If everything had run according to schedule, it was probably wrapping up right about now.

Bellamy sat on the farthest right cushion of the couch, occasionally enduring a kick from his sister as she moved around. He had the remote control in one hand and sort of wished he had a drink in the other. As he was in the midst of channel surfing, his phone rang. Octavia jolted and declared, “I’m awake,” when she heard that.

“Yeah, you are,” he muttered sarcastically. He handed her the remote and got up, heading into the kitchen to grab his phone off the table. Raven was calling, so he answered with a simple, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh, thank God you picked up,” she said in a rush of breath. “Thank God.”

Immediately, his whole body tensed in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is Clarke okay?” Octavia was clearly listening in, because when she heard him ask that, she turned the volume on the TV all the way down.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Raven answered. “She’s um . . . well, she’s in labor, actually.”

In _labor?_ Already? “What?” he spat. It definitely wasn’t unheard of for a baby to come a week early, but . . . he’d just always had next weekend in his mind as _the_ weekend.

“Yeah, her water broke right there at graduation, right on stage,” Raven revealed to him. “We’re at the hospital now. They just took her back to a room.”

_Holy shit_ , he thought, wondering how fast this was all happening. In his head, he was already picturing her screaming and pushing, but chances were, that’d come later.

“Listen, I don’t know if it’s my place to be calling you or what,” Raven said, “but . . . I just felt like you should know. It’s happening, Bellamy. She’s having the baby.”

It was happening. And he wasn’t there. Because he hadn’t taken Octavia’s advice and gone to that graduation. Now she was in the hospital without him, and . . . what was he supposed to do? He’d assumed he’d have another week to get himself ready for this. “Thanks,” he said to Raven, ending the call abruptly. He pocketed his phone and just stood there, letting his mind spin.

“What was that about?” Octavia asked him.

He couldn’t even give her an answer.

“Bellamy?” his sister questioned. “Is everything okay?”

No, it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay because he wasn’t by her side right now. He’d promised he would be, and he _wanted_ to be, and he wasn’t there.

Moving swiftly, he swiped his keys off the table and darted for the door.

“Bellamy!” Octavia called after him as he ran out. But he didn’t even slow down. She could come with him, but she had to hurry. Because _he_ had to hurry. If Clarke had that baby and he wasn’t there to be a part of it, he’d never forgive himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The hospital bed was so freaking uncomfortable that Clarke decided to try standing up and walking around. The aches from the graduation ceremony had dulled a bit, but she still felt them, and she’d definitely had a few contractions. Nothing too major yet, thankfully, but it would only be a matter of time.

While her mom was busy chatting to one of the nurses (probably double-checking that Dr. Jackson was on his way), Clarke allowed Raven and, by extension, Murphy, to come back to her room. Just to talk to her, keep her calm, that sort of thing. As long as she was conversing with people, then she didn’t start dwelling on the fact that she was going to have to push an entire baby out of her vagina soon.

“Hey, listen to this one,” Murphy said as he scrolled through Instagram posts on his phone. “‘Most entertaining graduation I’ve ever been to.’ And someone else underneath goes, ‘Yeah, but imagine if she had the kid right there.’” He chuckled.

“Great,” Clarke said. “Thanks for sharing those, Murphy.”

He shrugged. “I think it’s cool. You’re a meme.”

“Having my water break all over the stage was _not_ cool,” she said, sitting down on the birthing ball in the corner just to test it out. “At least, it wasn’t too noticeable, though, right? Just like a small amount?”

Raven and Murphy exchanged a look. “Yeah,” he said unconvincingly.

“Totally,” Raven agreed. “I could barely even see it.”

“You guys are lying.” Clarke groaned. “Oh god, now I’m just picturing somebody with a mop, cleaning it all up.” Why did everything in her life have to be so damn dramatic?

“It’s fine, Clarke,” Raven said. “It really did make the whole ceremony more interesting.”

If that was her entire contribution to her graduating class, then so be it. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. “You know what? Screw it. I’m done feeling embarrassed,” she decided, rolling back and forth on the ball. “At this point, I don’t care how gross things get. You know, when some women have a baby, they have a bowel movement at the same time. I don’t even care if that happens.”

Raven just forced a smile and nodded, but Murphy made a face of disgust and shuddered. “Sickening,” he declared.

“Shut up, Murphy,” she snapped.

“Maybe he should _not_ be allowed back in the delivery room,” Raven suggested.

“Yeah, once things start to progress, there’s gonna be, like, a VIP list,” she said. For now, it was okay for her friends to come back and wish her well, but there was going to come a point where she could only tolerate a select few people, and Murphy wasn’t one of them.

Her mom came back into the room and echoed, “A list, huh? Am I on it?”

“Well, obviously,” Clarke said. What kind of girl didn’t want support from her mom on the day she gave birth?

Abby smiled at her, then looked at Murphy and Raven and asked, “Can I have a minute with my daughter?”

“Sure,” Raven said. “We’ll just go hang out in the waiting room.”

“I’ll find some more comments,” Murphy said, shaking his phone at her excitedly.

“You do that,” Clarke told him. Once she got to the point where she was able to laugh at her unlucky timing, she’d probably enjoy those comments, too.

When it was just the two of them, Clarke reached out her hand, and her mom helped pull her up off the birthing ball. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“Fine. Better,” Clarke replied. “The contractions are in the going phase of coming and going, so that’s good. I’m not sure about this whole standing and walking around thing, though. I worry the baby’s just gonna fall out.”

Her mom smirked. “Oh, if only it were that easy.”

“Yeah.” They didn’t call it _labor_ for nothing, though, did they?

“I brought you a snack,” her mom said, holding up a couple of granola bars. “Although I’m not sure if you’re hungry.”

“Not right now,” Clarke said, sort of repulsed by the thought of eating. “Thanks, though.” She made her way back over to the bed and sat down, shutting her eyes as the cramping around her midsection intensified again. It didn’t last longer than about twenty seconds, though, so it wasn’t too bad. Yet.

“Your dad will be here any minute with your bag,” her mom said. “The hospital’s got your birth plan, and Dr. Jackson’s on his way. You’re all set.”

“Yeah.” Clarke put her legs up on the bed and leaned back against the pillows, still not exactly comfortable. But this was probably the best she was gonna get for now.

Her mom looked down at her adoringly and said, “Honey, I’m so proud of you.”

_Proud?_ Clarke thought, wrestling with the word. Did she really garner pride anymore? “Really?” she asked skeptically. “Even after . . . everything?”

Her mother looked her right in the eye and said it again. “I’m so proud.”

Clarke inhaled shakily, relieved to hear that, even though she wasn’t sure she’d earned it. It was comforting, though, that feeling of love and support. Especially since there had been a time six years ago when her mom hadn’t been proud of her at all.

****

_Clarke was getting really good at being invisible. She’d barely left the house for a week, and nobody really seemed to notice. Raven was all wrapped up in her boyfriend, because he was moving into his dorm room in a few days. And her parents were busy with work, like always. Her dad had just arrived home yesterday from a job that had required him to be gone for five days, and her mom had spent about the same amount of time pulling double-shifts at the hospital, because they were very understaffed right now. With everyone doing their own thing, it made it really easy for her to just spend time by herself. She never really did anything productive, though. She didn’t work on the new cheers she was supposed to be practicing, nor did she do any of the summer reading she’d set out for herself. She didn’t pull out her guitar once, and even when she did try to sit down and draw something, she usually ended up just doodling pointless, meaningless lines on the paper. Her creativity just felt zapped. Her appetite, on the other hand . . . that was starting to increase. And sooner or later, her parents were going to pick up on it. Sooner or later, one of them would hear her vomiting and put two and two together._

_It’d been a full seven days since she’d taken the pregnancy test, and keeping it to herself was becoming exhausting. The longer she went without telling someone, the more she worried about doing it. She knew she had to tell somebody, and it seemed only natural to tell her mom first. Even though, in some ways, she was the hardest person to tell._

_Clarke crept downstairs that night and found her mom sitting on the couch, yawning as she peered down at the computer on her lap. She looked like she was reading something, maybe some medical journal. Although Clarke had caught her reading an article about the Kardashians once, which her mother still denied to this day._

I don’t wanna upset her, _she thought fearfully. But this kind of news . . . it_ was _upsetting. Maybe it wouldn’t have been if she’d just been a little bit older. But as it was right now, she was basically a prime candidate for some stupid MTV reality show._ 16 and Pregnant _or_ Teen Mom _or something. Except those girls had sympathetic editing and a snappy soundtrack to cover all their dramatic moments. Real life wasn’t like that._

_“Hey, Mom?” Clarke squeaked out nervously._

_Her mom glanced up momentarily and said, “Oh, hi, honey. Aren’t you and Raven going out tonight?”_

_“No, I . . . I decided to stay home,” she said. What excuse had she given Raven? Or had she even bothered with one this time?_

_“Well, I’ve got a little research I need to do for one of my cases,” her mom said, eyes once again flittering back to the screen in front of her, “but once I’m done with that, maybe we can pop in a movie. Some feel-good mother/daughter thing.”_

_No movie in the world was lighthearted enough or sappy enough to make Clarke feel good about anything right now. She felt like she was stuck in a rut, just a gigantic rut of stress and sadness, and she wasn’t getting out of it anytime soon. “Mom, I need to talk to you,” she announced quietly._

_At first, her mother didn’t seem to hear her. Her brows furrowed as she read something on her computer, then she glanced up and asked, “What’s that?”_

She has no idea, _Clarke thought. Either she’d done a good job of hiding it, or her mom just hadn’t noticed, because there wasn’t a hint of concern in her voice or one line of worry on her face. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said as tears stung her eyes._

_Finally, her mom seemed to fully be paying attention. She set her computer aside and asked, “What’s wrong?”_

_With no other way to say it than to just say it, Clarke took a deep breath and let the words out as she exhaled. “I’m pregnant.” It didn’t feel freeing to confess, didn’t feel like a burden had been lifted for her shoulders. It felt horrible._

_“You’re . . .” Her mom’s face barely moved, and she just stared at her silently for a few seconds, mouth halfway open as if she was trying to say something. “What makes you think that?” she asked, almost calmly. As if she thought this was a joke Clarke was playing._

_“I’ve been getting sick,” she answered. “And I’m late.”_

_“Well, how late?” her mother asked. “Because at your age, Clarke, with all the hormonal changes . . .”_

_“Mom, I took a test,” she blurted. As tempting as it was to play the denial game all over again, she knew with certainty that she was pregnant. And now her mom knew, too._

_Abby’s whole facial expression just changed, and a look of devastation swept over her. “Oh my god,” she said in a low voice, leaning forward and not looking Clarke in the eye as she clasped her hands over her mouth. She shook her head, as if she either couldn’t or didn’t want to believe it, and then asked, “Are you sure it was positive? Did you do it right?”_

_Clarke’s lips trembled, and she nodded tearfully. She’d done everything right._

_“Oh my god, Clarke,” her mother said again, sounding like she was about to have a panic attack._

_“I’m sorry,” she apologized meekly. She felt like such a disappointment. This wasn’t what any mother wanted to hear from her sixteen year-old daughter._

_“Is it Bellamy’s?” her mom asked._

_Again, Clarke nodded. It actually kind of stung that her mom would even ask that, because it wasn’t like she was sleeping with anyone else already._

_“Of course it is,” her mom grumbled. She got up, walked over to the sliding glass door, and put her hand on the handle as if she were going to open it and go outside. But she didn’t. Instead, she just stood there, looking out back at their pool and shaking her head. “No, no, no . . .” she said on repeat. “This can’t be happening. How did this--” She whirled around, glaring at Clarke in disbelief now. “How did this happen? You told me you were being safe, and we got you on the pill.”_

_“I know.” It’d caught her off-guard, too, though perhaps it shouldn’t have._

_“So was that all a lie?” her mom yelled._

_“No, I was . . . we were safe,” she insisted. But that was a half-truth at best, which felt as bad as a lie, so she added on, “Sometimes,” for the sake of honesty._

_“Sometimes?” her mom spat._

_“I just figured the pill would . . . work.” She felt so stupid now, looking back._

_“No, Clarke!” her mom shouted. “Accidents happen, which is why I specifically told you to make sure you always used condoms, too! Why would you not do that? Why would you not listen to me?”_

_“I’m sorry!” Clarke yelled back as the tears began falling rapidly down her cheeks. “I made a mistake.”_

_“You’re damn right you did!” her mom hissed. “This is different than just going out and getting drunk or skipping school, Clarke. You’re_ pregnant. _Do you have any idea what that means for your future?”_

_“Yes, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past week now!”_

_“Week?” her mom resounded. “You’ve known for a week, and you’re just now telling me?”_

_God, she felt like she couldn’t say anything right, like no matter what she said right now, her mom was going to be angry about it. “I was scared,” she said._

_“Scared of what?”_

_“Of you reacting like this.” And this was just one parent, too. She still had to tell her dad, and he was going to be so disappointed in her, too. “Mom . . .” she choked out, feeling like she couldn’t breathe because she was starting to cry so hard. “I need you.” The waterworks burst, and she cried as hard as she’d let herself cry when she saw those two pink lines. She didn’t hold anything in; she couldn’t._

_She must have still been angry, but her mom finally softened a bit and came towards her. “Shh,” she whispered, hugging Clarke. “It’s okay. We’ll deal with this.” She held her tightly and stroked her hair and promised, “Everything’s gonna be alright.”_

_Would it, though? Was that even possible? As Clarke stood there with her mom, sobbing “I’m so sorry” against her shoulder, she really doubted it._

****

Clarke felt . . . pretty damn touched by her mom’s unconditional love in that moment. Things hadn’t always been smooth sailing between them, sure, but here they were, still a family.

“So I hope you don’t mind,” her mom said, “but I sneaked a peek at your birth plan.”

_Of course you did_ , Clarke thought, not at all surprised. She couldn’t even be upset about it, because she’d expected as much.

“You did a good job,” her mom said. “It’s good that you thought about all those things in advance.”

“It’ll probably go right out the window now,” Clarke mumbled. A lot of the things in her birth plan involved . . . someone else.

“And it’s okay if it does,” her mom assured her. “Now . . . I don’t know if you’ve given any thought about who you want with you during the delivery, now that . . .” She trailed off, but it didn’t take a genius to understand what she was getting at. “I mean, I could be back here with you,” she offered, smiling hopefully. “I’d love to see my granddaughter come into the world.”

Clarke had sort of anticipated this request, so she’d thought about it beforehand and already weighed the pros and cons of it. “Look, Mom, don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . no,” she said bluntly. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do, but . . . you’re not just my mom, you’re a doctor.”

“Exactly,” her mother said. “Best of both worlds.”

Yeah, it sounded great in theory, but in reality, Clarke had a feeling it wouldn’t go so well. “I feel like it’d get too chaotic with Dr. Jackson and the nurses _and_ you all telling me what to do.”

“No, I won’t say anything.”

Clarke gave her a look. “You’re you, Mom. Of course you’ll say something.” Her gut feeling was that her mom did not need to be back in the room with her when the baby was born, and she had to stick with that. “I just think it’s for the best if it’s just me and my medical team.”

Her mother frowned. “But you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

She sure didn’t want to, but she was lacking alternatives. “Then maybe . . . maybe Raven can be with me,” she thought out loud.

When a familiar, low, comforting voice said, “Or I can,” Clarke nearly jumped right out of the bed. Her head shot to the door as Bellamy— _Bellamy_ —walked in. He met her eyes, and the look on her face made her feel breathless. “If that’s what you still want,” he said.

What was going on? How did he know to be here? Was he even . . . real? “Bellamy?” she whispered, wondering if she should pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

He smiled at her softly and came towards the bed. “Hey, Princess.”

She stared at him in utter disbelief. She definitely wasn’t imagining things. But it still felt like a dream.

“I’ll give you two some time,” her mom said, slipping away. Clarke was barely even aware that she left the room, because all she could see was Bellamy, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heart nearly beating right out of her chest. For a moment, it was as if every ache and pain and fear and worry just vanished, because Bellamy was there. He was _there_.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked him.

“Well, I didn’t take those Lamaze classes for nothing,” he joked, cracking a grin.

She laughed a little, still stunned to see him. “Who told you?”

“Raven,” he answered. “She called me right after you got here.”

_Oh, thank you, Raven_ , she thought, making a mental note to give her friend the biggest hug in the world for this. This was exactly what she’d needed, and Raven had seen right through her when she’d told her not to call him. She loved having a best friend who knew her so well. Now, thanks to her, her _other_ best friend was by her side.

Clarke felt like she was seeing Bellamy again for the first time in years, even though it’d only been a few days. She felt as energized and excited as she had the night she’d walked into Eligius and reunited with him. But words weren’t going to be enough to adequately convey how she was feeling, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed and managed to get up.

“You don’t have to stand,” he said, grabbing her arm to help her up.

“No, I wanna . . .” She gazed up at him for a few seconds, getting lost in his deep brown eyes, and then just melted into his arms, hugging him, holding him close as close as the bump in between them would allow, inhaling the scent of him. His strong arms wound around her tightly, making her feel safe and secure. Like everything was gonna be alright.

“You’re really here?” she whispered, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her cheek.

His hands rubbed up and down her back. “Yeah.”

_Oh, thank God_ , she thought, relief washing over her. She needed this. She needed _him_. “I—I told Raven not to call you,” she stammered, leaning back just slightly so she could look up at him, “but—but it wasn’t ‘cause I was trying to keep you out of this or anything. I promise. I just thought . . . I didn’t know if you’d wanna . . .”

“Hey, listen.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and gazed at her with such affection and intensity that she felt warmed and comforted to her core. “There’s nowhere else I wanna be.”

She smiled tearfully, enjoying the feeling of having to hold back happy tears instead of sad ones. “I don’t think I could do this without you,” she admitted, already feeling ten times more at ease now that she knew she’d have her person and her partner and the love of her life with her through this whole process. This was what she’d wanted but what she hadn’t allowed herself to fully hope for.

“You could,” he assured her, keeping his hands on her hips, keeping her close to him. “But you don’t have to.”

Her heart sort of . . . fluttered. As if it skipped a beat. She wasn’t alone. He was here. And they were still doing this together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy didn’t want to leave Clarke’s side. Now that he was there, he just wanted to stay with her the whole time. But he understood that he was sort of the liaison between her and all the people in the waiting room. They were going to have to rely on him for updates, because Clarke obviously wasn’t going to be leaving that room. She said she was okay with visitors, but not for very long periods of time.

When Octavia went in there, Bellamy left, just for a few minutes. His stomach was in knots, so he didn’t bother stopping at the vending machine and grabbing a snack. Nope, he probably wouldn’t eat anything until after the baby was born. He headed straight out to the waiting room, happy to see that so many people were there. They were surrounded by love and support today, and that was a good feeling.

“There he is. Big Papa,” Murphy said with a smirk.

“Yeah, better late than never.” He still felt bad that he hadn’t been there for her at graduation—Octavia had been right in trying to persuade him to go. But at least he was here now. He looked at Raven and said, “Thanks for calling me.”

“Of course.” She got up out of her chair and came towards him to give him a hug. “I knew you couldn’t miss this,” she said.

“Nope.” Being here today to see Avery come into the world was the most important thing he’d ever done in his life. He was her father, after all, the only one she had.

Of course, he wasn’t the only father there. Jake stared at him intently, and he recalled their last conversation. A not so pleasant one where he’d been drinking a little too much to remember everything he’d said. He didn’t regret expressing his anger, because he felt like that had been warranted. But he did want to move forward now. “Hey, Jake,” he said.

Much to his relief, Jake smiled at him. “Hey, Bellamy,” he said, standing up. “I’m glad you’re here.” He held out Clarke’s hospital bag, and Bellamy took it from him. He let out a heavy breath, one he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, and said, “Me, too.” This was where he was meant to be.

Alyssa and Kane were both there, as well as Monty and Harper. Abby was noticeably absent, though, so he wondered what that was about. Had she gone to her office to lament the fact that he was back in the picture?

“Any update?” Harper asked him. One of her feet was tapping, and she kept wringing her hands together, either out of excitement or nervousness.

“No, she’s still in the early stages. It’ll be a while,” he answered. He _really_ hoped, for Clarke’s sake, that she didn’t have one of those labors that lasted more than a day, but he knew it was a possibility. And if that was the case, he wouldn’t be getting a wink of sleep, and that was fine. “You guys can probably go home for a couple hours if you want,” he said. No need for their friends to just sit there and wait.

Raven shook her head stubbornly. “Nope. No way.”

“Yeah, this is our home until Avery’s born,” Harper agreed.

Murphy whipped out his phone and said, “You want me to film anything?”

Bellamy chuckled and shook his head. “No, I think Clarke would kill you,” he said. “But, uh . . . thanks, you guys. For being here.” It meant a lot, more than he could properly express in the moment, because he just wanted to get back to the girl he loved. “I’m just gonna go . . .”

“Yes, go,” Raven said, giving him a gentle shove. “Be with her.”

_Be with her_ , he thought, smiling a bit. Yeah, he was gonna be with her. No matter what. The past didn’t matter as much as the present did. Or the future.

On his way back to Clarke’s room, he encountered Abby in the hallway. They both stopped walking for a few seconds when they saw each other, and he could tell by the look on her face that she’d been crying.

“Listen, Abby,” he said as she came towards him, “I know you probably--”

When she was right in front of him, she shocked the hell out of him by throwing her arms around him and hugging him. Tightly. And there was no anger or disappointment in it. If anything, it felt more like . . . gratitude. Like she was grateful that he was there.

He hugged her back unsurely, because hugging was just something they didn’t do. Something they’d never done. But for the first time ever, he felt like Abby Griffin actually liked and approved of him and wanted him around. He’d already gotten Jake’s blessing, but this . . . this silent hug felt like hers.

As nice as it was to have these moments with Clarke’s parents and with their friends, it was a lot nicer to walk back into that room to be with her. It seemed like it was pretty bad timing, though, because Clarke was grimacing and clutching her stomach with both hands. Not yelling, but she was obviously in pain.

“Oh, thank God you’re back,” Octavia said. “She’s having a contraction, and I don’t know what to do.”

He rushed to her side, willing to offer up his hand if she needed something to squeeze the life out of, but she loosened up, breathed a sigh of relief, and said, “It’s okay. It’s done now.” She took a moment to catch her breath, then groaned, “God, those really suck.”

“You alright?” he asked her, stroking her hair.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just part of the process.” She managed a small smile, but she looked tired already. He really hoped she could find some way to rest during all of this.

“I think this is my cue to leave,” Octavia said. “But Mom’s on her way,” she told Bellamy.

“Good.” He needed her there more than anyone else. Because if he started to get freaked out about anything, she’d be the one to calm him down.

“Good luck with everything, Clarke,” Octavia said. “You got this.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said.

“And you got this, too, Bell,” Octavia told him, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze on her way out.

_Damn, I got a good family_ , he thought, watching his sister leave the room. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have the most money or the nicest house or even a dad. They were close. And he was sure as hell going to do everything he could to make sure Avery grew up with as much love as he had. Or even more.

“Look what your dad brought,” he said to Clarke, holding up her hospital bag.

“Good,” she said. “Although I forgot, what’s even all in there?”

“Clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste,” he said, setting it down next to the bed. “Your sketchbook.”

“Socks?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah.” He’d put a couple different pairs of socks in there.

“Oh, thank God,” she said. “My feet are cold.”

“Well, we can fix that.” He unzipped the bag and reached around inside, grabbing onto the first pair of socks he felt. They were pink and fuzzy, and Clarke usually didn’t wear them, but they were definitely warm, so she didn’t protest as he went down to the foot of the bed and put them on her feet for her.

“I didn’t expect to be doing this today,” she said. “One of the speakers at graduation was talking about becoming. You know, like, becoming who we’re meant to be and stuff. That feels relevant.”

He pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down, reaching out to take one of her hands in his. “Sorry I wasn’t there,” he apologized. “I feel horrible. I’ve _been_ horrible.”

“No, I get it, though,” she said. “I mean . . . there’s still a lot we need to talk about.”

There was, but they could do that later. “We don’t have to talk about it right now,” he told her.

“No, we do, though,” she insisted. “We should. Before labor gets too intense.”

He really was willing to put some things on the backburner for now, if it meant making things easier on her. But she seemed like this was what she wanted, and he knew there were things he could say that would help her feel better. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll start then.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, then looked her right in the eye and said, “I forgive you.”

Tears immediately sprung up, and she had to blink them back. “Bellamy, you don’t have to--”

“No, hear me out,” he said. “I forgive you for what happened. I was never gonna _not_ forgive you.” Maybe Avery’s decision to arrive a week early had sped up the process, but he wasn’t complaining. It felt good to not be wallowing in anger anymore. “And I know that doesn’t mean we’ve solved all our problems. I know there’s stuff we’re still gonna have to deal with and issues we’re still gonna have to work past,” he acknowledged. “But I forgive you, Clarke. Because I still wanna be with you. I don’t think I’ve ever really wanted to be with anyone else.”

Her lower lip trembled, and she failed at her attempt to keep her tears at bay.

“Listen, I need you to know that I’m not just here today because of Avery,” he told her. “You guys are _both_ my family. I’m not just here because I love her; I’m here because I love _you_. And nothing’s ever gonna change that.” He still had every intention of getting married to her, whenever she was ready. If that was a year from now, he could wait. If that was tomorrow, then he wouldn’t hesitate.

“Nothing?” she echoed. “Not even . . . what I kept from you?”

“No.” He knew they could overcome it. There wasn’t any other alternative.

“But what if I can’t forgive myself?” she whimpered. “I mean, here I am, getting ready to bring someone else into the world, and part of me feels like I should’ve done that already. Like I should’ve just had our baby.”

He would have loved that, to be honest. Despite how young they’d both been, he would have loved getting to raise a child he’d helped create, to be the kind of dad he’d never had. But this didn’t feel any less special or important to him. “Avery _is_ our baby,” he reminded her.

She choked on a happy sob.

“Look, Clarke . . . what happened isn’t something either one of us will ever just forget or get over,” he said. “It’s gonna stick with us for the rest of our lives. But today’s not about that. Today’s a good day.” He glanced at the clock, noting the time. They were definitely into the afternoon hours now. “And if she’s born before midnight,” he said, “it’ll be the happiest day of our lives.”

She laughed a little and said, “It will be, won’t it?”

“Yeah.” And if she was born after midnight, then tomorrow would be. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really excited to meet her,” he said. He’d done so much talking to her, reading to her, feeling her kick. But he was ready to get to hold her.

“She’s gonna love you,” Clarke said. Her hand tightened on his, and with conviction, she said, “I love you.”

Of course he’d known that, but it felt good to hear it. And she deserved to hear it from him. “I love you, too,” he said. In that moment, despite _everything_ , he felt more in love with her than he ever had before.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then kept his face near hers as her eyes fluttered shut. Tears still seeped from them, but they were the happy kind. He kept holding her hand as he watched her fall asleep, knowing that rest would be fleeting for her and non-existent for him. But that was fine. She was the one who had to do all the hard work today. All he had to do was be there for her, support her, and love her. And those were really easy things for him to do.


	65. Chapter 65

_Chapter 65_

Clarke remembered learning about the stages of labor, and how the first stage was split up into phases. She knew she was in the early phase and likely would be for a while, because her contractions still felt like bad menstrual cramps. They didn’t last long, only about thirty or forty seconds, and she was able to rest in between them. She knew she had to rest while she could, because once she got into the next phase, there would be no possibility of sleep.

There seemed to be different people in her room whenever she woke up, although Bellamy, of course, was the constant. First it was him and her dad. She wondered what they were saying, but their conversation stopped short when she started moaning and groaning about her contraction. She felt like she’d only gone back to sleep for a few minutes, though she had no real concept of time, when she awoke again. This time, Bellamy was standing in the doorway, talking to Raven. But he rushed right back to her bedside when she called out for him. His poor hand was probably going to be bruised by the time the delivery was over. Even these minor contractions caused her to grip it pretty hard.

Since the only sleep she was getting was a light sleep, just barely skimming the surface of actual rest, it didn’t even take a contraction to wake her up the next time. She heard Bellamy talking to his mom, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that Aurora had joined them in the room. She had a teddy bear in her hand that looked like it had come from the hospital’s gift shop.

“Aurora?” Clarke said, relieved to see her. She hadn’t really gotten to talk to her since . . . well, since everything had come to light.

“Oh, Clarke, we didn’t mean to wake you,” Aurora said apologetically.

“You didn’t,” Clarke assured her. She really was just resting her eyes more than anything else.

“Another contraction?” Bellamy asked, sitting down in the chair next to her bed, holding out his hand.

“Not this time,” she said, though she took his hand anyway, just because it was nice to have that contact. “But how far apart have they been?”

“About twenty-five minutes,” he told her.

Twenty-five minutes? That meant this early phase was still _very_ early. “This is taking forever,” she complained.

“It can take a while,” Aurora said, peering down at her. “But it looks like you’re doing what you need to do, trying to relax.”

“Yeah.” _Trying_ was the key word there, because it was so hard to relax knowing what was coming. But she kept trying to remind herself that women had been doing this since the dawn of time, even back when there were no hospitals or drugs or anything to help ease the process. Her mom had gone through this. Hell, Aurora had gone through it twice, both times without a hand like Bellamy’s to hold.

Looking up at the woman who already felt like her mother-in-law, Clarke felt a stab of guilt for lying to her, too, for keeping something so huge so secret from her. “Aurora, I’m so sorry,” she apologized shakily. “I didn’t mean to rob you of a grandchild.”

Aurora didn’t try to tell her that it was all okay, which was actually kind of nice. Because Clarke didn’t want to be excused of her secrecy; she wanted to be forgiven for it. “Well, now you’re giving me one,” Aurora said, smiling softly. “And it was your choice to make. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“But I feel bad,” she said. So, yes, she was going to apologize, because she felt like that was all she could say, even though it wasn’t enough.

“Clarke.” Bellamy rubbed her hand and reminded her, “You don’t have to worry about that today, remember?”

“I know,” she said. “I know, but . . . I just feel really emotional.” Tears stung her eyes, and she felt like, any second, they’d just start pouring out.

Aurora must have sensed that they needed some privacy, because she said, “I’ll leave you two alone,” and set the teddy bear down on top of Clarke’s hospital bag as she left the room.

Clarke hadn’t even realized she’d started crying until she felt Bellamy’s hands on her face, wiping away her tears. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he soothed her. “You’re okay.”

She was, and she knew she was, but still . . . she just kept crying. It wasn’t even that she was sad. She just felt . . . worked up.

“You want me to hold you?” he offered.

Nodding quickly, she scooted over a bit to allow him a little space on the small hospital bed. He curled up next to her, put his arms around her, and she snuggled in as close to him as she could get. She clutched at his shirt and used it to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “This is a lot,” she said. “I thought I knew what this was gonna be like, but . . . it’s so much.”

“You’re doin’ great,” he assured her, stroking her hair.

Was she? She didn’t feel like she was doing a horrible job so far, and she’d heard that it was very common for women in delivery to have many hormone fluctuations on the big day. But she’d also watched some vlogs of young women who were, like, impossibly beautiful throughout the whole process with their perfect makeup and big, bright smiles, and she definitely didn’t feel like one of them right now. “I’ve barely even started,” she said. “It’s gonna get so much harder. I might need some drugs.”

“That’s okay,” Bellamy said.

“No, but I don’t want any,” she said, whimpering. “I wanna try to . . . be strong.” If she could give birth the natural way, then that was definitely preferable. She hated the thought of being all drugged up when her daughter came into the world.

“You are strong,” Bellamy assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of his hands, the thrum of his heartbeat, and everything else that managed to calm her down and get the tears to stop flowing. “You make me feel stronger,” she said, closing her eyes, hoping to fall asleep using him as her pillow. Even if it was just for a few minutes, it’d make her feel better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dilation wasn’t a speedy process. Ten hours in, Clarke found out she was still only at three centimeters. That wasn’t even enough to move onto the next phase yet.

The contractions had begun coming more frequently, and they were gradually getting stronger. Bellamy timed them all for her since she was unable to focus on anything other than her increasing discomfort and pain.

It wasn’t unmanageable yet, but it was to the point where sleep had become virtually impossible. So she had to start doing other activities just to try to get her mind on other things. Since she had her sketchbook, she tried to do a quick drawing. It was supposed to be a dog, but it ended up looking more like a giraffe. Not her best work. They did end up putting on some music—she’d actually put together a pregnancy playlist a while back, but no song was really enough to hold her attention. So Bellamy ended up doing a lot of talking. He told her a lot of stories about his childhood, and she learned things about him that she hadn’t known. Like apparently the first football he’d ever gotten had been a Christmas present from his grandfather. And he’d gone through a phase in elementary school where he’d been convinced that, if he acted like a bear, he’d actually turn into a bear. And he recounted his memories of the day Octavia had been born, of seeing her for the first time and holding her as a little boy himself. His face took on a different expression when he told those stories, the stories of feeding her a bottle for the first time, and getting up in the middle of the night to check on her because he wanted his mom to be able to sleep.

He was going to be a _great_ father.

Bellamy’s stories must have been the thing to get her through that early phase of labor, because just when Clarke thought it was never going to end, one of the nurses came back into the room and peeked under the blanket to check her progress. “Alright, Clarke, looks like you’re four centimeters dilated,” she announced. “That means you’re in the active labor phase now.”

“How long will that last?” Clarke asked. Sure, she’d done her research, but she couldn’t remember off the top of her head.

“Typically three to six hours,” the nurse replied.

“Typically?”

“Well, every woman’s different.”

“Meaning it could last longer,” Clarke interpreted. “I’m not having this baby before midnight.”

“No, it’s already after midnight,” Bellamy informed her.

“Is it really?” Here she’d thought it was barely 9:00.

“Yeah.”

She groaned, pressing her head back into the pillow, and apologized to him, “Sorry this is taking so long.”

He laughed a little and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Realistically, she knew there was nothing she could do to speed it up, but still . . . she thought of her family and friends sitting out there in the waiting room and actually felt bad for keeping them waiting.

“Your contractions are going to start lasting longer, probably closer to the minute mark,” the nurse informed her. “And you won’t have as much time to rest in between.”

“Oh, goodie.” That sure sounded like something to look forward to.

“We can get Dr. Jackson in here to talk about pain management if you want,” the nurse offered.

It was tempting, definitely, but Clarke still wanted to see how long she could hold out. “I think I’m . . . I’m managing,” she decided. Once the pain started to become unbearable, then she’d probably cave.

“Okay,” the nurse said. “You just let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said, waiting until she’d left the room to start whining again. “Oh, Bellamy . . . I’m getting impatient.”

“I know,” he said, yawning. “But we knew it was gonna take a while.”

Hopefully her body—and her baby—picked up the pace, though, because she did not want to be one of those poor women who ended up in labor for over a full twenty-four hours. And she didn’t want to get to the point where she had to have a C-section, either. “Can I have some more water?” she asked him. All of these contractions had her sweating and feeling so thirsty.

“Sure.” He handed her her glass, and she drank greedily, even though she knew she was going to have to get up and pee in about ten minutes.

“Am I doin’ alright, by the way?” he asked her. “I mean, I know this isn’t really about me, but . . . do you feel like I’m here for you?”

“Oh, god, yes,” she said, handing him back the glass so he could set it on her bedside table. “I’d be a wreck without you.” She really couldn’t imagine going through all of this with just her mother in the room. Even Raven . . . as much as she loved her friend, she wouldn’t have known what to do, and she wouldn’t have been able to calm her down as well.

“What else can I do?” Bellamy asked. “You want a massage or anything?”

“I think . . .” She shifted uncomfortably, wincing as her back muscles started to pull and strain. “I need to get up and walk around.”

“Okay.” He helped her to her feet, and she felt a little unsteady, so held onto his arm and took a few steps. “You wanna go get a snack?” he asked. “Or . . .”

“No, just in here,” she said. “Just walk with me.” The change in position came highly recommended. She’d read up about a lot of moms who had said that moving around during delivery was the only time when they could find any relief or comfort. But she wasn’t completely sold on it herself. Her whole midsection still hurt, and she sensed another contraction was going to kick in soon. Timing-wise, she was due for one.

“What’re we gonna do about her middle name?” Bellamy asked her as they slowly padded around the room. “I don’t think we ever decided that.”

They hadn’t, which felt kind of silly given how prepared they’d tried to be for everything. But in a way, she liked the spontaneity of it. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Do you trust me on it?”

Without hesitation, he answered, “Yeah.”

“Good.” She smiled a bit and said, “I’m glad you trust me.” Because that was something she was prepared to earn back. Before she could offer up any hints as to what name she had in mind, her stomach muscles started tightening and contorting, and she hunched forward. “Oh, Bellamy . . .”

“It’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re okay.” He started to sway back and forth with her gently. They’d learned about this in one of their classes, the so-called slow-dance position where she could just lean against him and use him as her pillar while he rubbed her back. “I’m right here,” he whispered quietly in her ear. “I got you.”

He did, didn’t he? He totally had her.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he said. “I’m so proud of you. You got this.”

Hearing his voice made it easier to try to block out the pain, so she said, “Keep talking to me,” and continued to sway with him.

“You’re so strong,” he said. “You’re so strong right now. You’re amazing, Clarke. I’m so in love with you.”

“Oh, that helps,” she said. Yeah, there was no way Raven or her mom could have been there for her like this. Bellamy was the only one who could . . . well, he was just the only one.

“That’s better?” he asked.

“Yeah. So much.” Even as the contraction subsided, she still stood there with him, wrapped in his arms with her face resting on his shoulder. “You just have to talk me through all of them, okay?” she said.

“Okay. I’ll try not to repeat myself.”

“No, I don’t care.” Even if he said the same thing over and over again, it’d be fine. “It just helps hearing your voice. And being able to hold onto you. I missed this.”

His hands continued to smooth up and down her back, easing some of the tension there. There was just a warmth in his touch that she couldn’t otherwise feel, a reassurance.

As the active phase of labor continued, they tried a lot more massaging, in various positions, too. Clarke placed a pillow down on the floor, got down on her knees, and leaned over the chair that he sat in, and he did his best to massage out some of the pain in her lower back. It never completely went away, of course, but when she focused on the feeling of that along with her own breathing, she was able to stay relatively calm, even if the contraction was a bad one. Bellamy did a good job of checking with her and making sure that every touch was what she wanted and he was not pressing too hard or hurting her. He was so patient with her and accommodating, exactly the way a birth partner was supposed to be. She felt like she couldn’t have a better man—a better _person_ —by her side.

Even as she became more dilated, she still opted to decline pain relief, at least the drug-related kind. So one of the nurses suggested they try a warm bath instead, which was supposed to help ease her muscle tension and relax her. Clarke was down to try anything, so she agreed to it, and the nurses drew a bath for her right there in the room. It was one of those birthing pools that she’d seen on YouTube, and she had to admit, it felt pretty damn good to soak in there. 

“How do you feel?” the nurse asked her.

She smiled dazedly and replied, “Weightless.” The water made her feel like she could float.

“Good,” the nurse said as she squeezed out a sponge, trickling warm water onto Clarke’s shoulders and arms.

“Maybe you should just have the baby in here,” Bellamy suggested.

“Maybe the next one,” she said. Water births were definitely becoming more popular, but for this first baby, she just wanted something more traditional. She couldn’t help but get freaked out when she pictured her little baby being born in the water. “Tell me the truth,” she said, reaching out to graze her fingers against his arm. “How gross do I look right now?”

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Yeah, right.” It was a good thing Murphy wasn’t filming this, because she felt like she looked a mess. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not,” he insisted, smoothing her damp hair back from her forehead.

Honestly, at this point, she didn’t even really care what she looked like, not when her body was doing something it had never done before.

The sudden urge to use the bathroom made itself known, and Clarke struggled to sit up straighter. “Oh, I have to pee,” she announced. “Bellamy, help me up.”

“Careful,” he said. He grabbed one arm to help her up, and the nurse grabbed the other. The second she was out of that water, she groaned and lamented, “Oh, I don’t feel weightless anymore.” She was back to feeling like a bloated elephant, but she had to remind herself that that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The more discomfort and pain she felt, the closer she was to bringing Avery into the world.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sunrise happened. Still no baby. But the good news was that Clarke finally entered the last phase of the first stage of delivery. Dr. Jackson said it was called the transition phase. At eight centimeters dilated, she was officially transitioning into having the baby.

The transition phase wasn’t fun. She started having a lot of hot flashes, and Bellamy kept having to press a cold washcloth to her head and her neck. It was rarely ever just the two of them anymore. Nurses kept rotating in and out of the room, checking up on her, coaching her through her increasing discomfort, and of course monitoring how things were looking between her legs. The progress was still slow, but at least she felt like she was nearing the home stretch. She kept telling herself that she only had to deal with this for a few more hours. Hopefully.

When the nurses finally left her alone for a moment, she told Bellamy to bring her mom into the room. She needed advice, and she needed it now.

“Hi, honey,” her mom said when she walked in. She looked quite tired herself, and her hair was falling out of its ponytail. “How are you doing?”

“Not good,” Clarke admitted. The pain was pretty relentless at this point. It didn’t matter whether she lay on her back, her side, or got up and moved around; it didn’t let up.

“No, she’s doin’ great,” Bellamy said.

“But I don’t feel good.” She grimaced, shifting around uncomfortably in the bed. “It hurts.”

“I know,” her mom sympathized.

“My last contraction was . . . how long was it?” she asked Bellamy.

“Eighty-five seconds,” he replied.

“Eighty-five seconds.” It’d felt more like eighty-five years. “And I’m only having, like, two minutes in between. They said this part can take two hours.”

“It can,” her mom said. “But it’s still the shortest part of labor. Remember that.”

As much as she kept trying to tell herself that, she sort of felt like her perception of time was skewed, because she just couldn’t get relief for any substantial amount of time whatsoever.

“We’re just gonna keep breathing, alright?” Bellamy said, cupping her cheek. “We’ll get through this together.”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “You don’t actually have to push the baby out. You just have to stand there.” Immediately after she said that, she regretted it. “I mean . . . I’m sorry.” He wasn’t just standing. He was doing a lot for her. “I don’t mean to get snippy.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her.

Was it? She sort of felt like she had a free pass on account of going through the most physically demanding experience of her life and all. Bellamy had prepared for this, too. He definitely knew not to hold it against her.

“Looks like he’s taking good care of you, Clarke,” her mom noted.

“He is.” Her eyes closed, because they felt so heavy and she felt so tired, and a few tears seeped out the sides. She wasn’t even experiencing a contraction in that moment, and it still hurt. She felt so much pressure down in her pelvic area, like a bowling ball was going to come out.

“Do you want me to stay back here, too?” her mom offered.

“No,” she said. “No offense. I just wanted to see if you think I should get an epidural.” She was _really_ close to asking for one.

“Well, that’s up to you, sweetie,” her mom said.

That didn’t help. “But I don’t know,” she whined. “Doesn’t it slow down labor?”

“It can,” her mom said.

Desperately, she looked to Bellamy. “And we’ve already been here for . . . how long?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“We’ve been here a long time,” she said. “But this sucks.” Was it worth it to have the epidural now when she was getting close to being able to push? It almost seemed like a better idea to just power through at this point.

“How dilated are you?” her mother asked.

“Eight centimeters.” She shot Bellamy a look and asked, “Do you know what that means? It means I’m dilated enough for a baseball.”

“Wow,” he said, his eyes widening momentarily.

“Or maybe it’s a doughnut.” She couldn’t quite remember, but she had a little chart on her phone.

“You still have time to see how you’re doing as things progress,” her mom said. “You don’t have to make any decision on pain relief yet, okay?”

What if she ran out of time, though? What if she reached a point where she couldn’t bear the pain anymore and then it was too late to get drugged up? “Okay,” she whimpered. “I’ll just wait.” As if her body wanted to taunt her for that choice, everything tightened up again, and another contraction gripped down on her. She cried and turned towards Bellamy, and he reached around to rub her back for her. But even that wasn’t helping very much anymore.

Eventually, the contractions started coming so frequently that she just felt like they were overlapping, no time to catch her breath in between. Bellamy tried his best to keep doing the breathing exercises with her, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to take part. She felt so achy that she didn’t even remember what it felt like to feel normal. Even her butt and her legs and her arms were hurting. She was pretty sure the only thing keeping her going was adrenaline. The adrenaline of getting to nine centimeters dilated. Of knowing that, once she got to ten, she could start pushing, and then this could all finally be _done_.

Pain relief definitely was no longer an option when she felt the undeniable need to push. One of the nurses was back there, checking her vitals, but Clarke turned to Bellamy instead of her and said, “Get Dr. Jackson.”

“You think it’s time?” he asked.

She nodded frantically. “Yeah.”

“He’ll be here any minute,” the nurse said, pressing a button on the side of Clarke’s bed. “You think you’re ready?”

“I know I am,” Clarke said. She probably hadn’t been ready when her water had broken at graduation. She hadn’t even been ready when she’d arrived at the hospital. But she’d been ready ever since Bellamy had shown up and told her he forgave her. Now, finally, her body was ready, too.

When Dr. Jackson came into the room, he showed no signs of being tired. In fact, he was all smiles when he said, “Alright, let’s see how we’re doing here.” He peered underneath the covers and said, “Okay, Clarke, looks like you’re at ten centimeters. You’re officially in the second stage of labor now, and you’re doing great.”

All she could do was moan in response, especially when one of the nurses tapped Bellamy’s shoulder and motioned him to follow her to the other side of the room.

“I’m gonna have you work your way towards pushing,” Dr. Jackson said. “How’s your pain?”

“It’s bad,” she said, only somewhat ware of all the activity that had begun happening around her room. All the nurses were in there, and they were setting up things, things she couldn’t even identify. She looked around frantically for her boyfriend, but it seemed like there were so many people in there all of a sudden.

“I don’t think we have time for an epidural,” Dr. Jackson said.

“That’s okay, I just wanna do this,” she said. “Bellamy?”

“I’m right here, Clarke.” One of the nurses was having him wash his hands.

“I need you,” she said.

“I’m right here,” he said once again, returning to her side.

It was crazy how hours upon hours had all amounted to this. More than that, even. Months and months. She’d been carrying this baby around for almost nine whole months. And now everything was happening so fast. She didn’t know how her legs ended up spread and lifted up, whether it was something she’d done instinctively or the nurses who had positioned her that way. This was how it was going to happen, her in a semi-seated position with some pillows propped behind her back, bearing down with every ounce of strength she had left and then some, while Bellamy stood at her side, holding her hand and probably losing circulation in his.

“Okay, Clarke, it looks like your baby’s just starting to crown,” Dr. Jackson said. “But I’m not gonna have you start to push yet.”

“Why not?” she barked. Wasn’t this the time to start pushing?

“Because the baby’s still retracting after your contractions,” he explained.

“What?” What did that even mean? She couldn’t think right now.

“It’s like two steps forward, one step back,” he said in simple terms. “You’re getting very close, though.”

“I just wanna push,” she growled impatiently.

“We have to take this slowly, otherwise you could tear,” Dr. Jackson told her. “I want you to breathe and blow through the urge to push, because your contractions are naturally going to move your baby forward. Alright?”

_No_ , she protested internally. It wasn’t alright, because this had already gone on too long. It was time to just get the baby out. But still, she tried to follow her doctor’s instructions, because she knew he knew what he was doing. She breathed in as deeply as she could and blew it out audibly instead of pushing. But the pressure down there was so intense that it made it difficult to resist.

“What’s it look like?” she asked Bellamy.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes.” They had a little covering up so she couldn’t see, probably because they didn’t want her getting freaked out.

Bellamy peeked down lower, made a face, and shook his head. “You don’t wanna know.”

No, she really didn’t.

“Good job, Clarke. You’re doing great,” Dr. Jackson said. “Keep breathing. We’re gonna let your body take charge here. It knows exactly what it needs to do.”

_Does it?_ she couldn’t help but wonder as she breathed out forcefully again. How could it? She’d never done this part before.

****

_Clarke crept out of her bedroom, afraid of what she was going to hear her parents saying. They’d told her to go upstairs and let them have a talk, but judging by the sheer volume of their conversation, it was more of an argument. With her bedroom door closed, she hadn’t been able to make out exactly what they were saying. But when she crouched down in the upstairs hallway, she was able to make out every single word._

_“How could we let this happen?” her father boomed._

_“We didn’t_ let _anything happen,” her mom said. “We tried to—to educate her and--”_

_“Well, we should’ve tried harder,” her dad cut in. “We should’ve never gotten her on the pill.”_

_“Then she just would’ve gotten pregnant sooner.”_

_“Or she wouldn’t have had sex at all!”_

_Clarke flinched. Her dad sounded . . . so angry. She’d never heard him that angry before._

_“She started having sex before I got her on the pill, Jake,” her mom pointed out. “Don’t make this out to be my fault.”_

_“I’m not.”_

_“Well, that’s what it feels like!”_

_Clarke winced. Why were they yelling at each other like this?_

_“But you know what?” her mom blared. “If you weren’t away for work so much, I wouldn’t have to be a single parent half the time.”_

_“So now it’s my fault?”_

_“No, it’s . . .” Her mom paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she wasn’t as loud. But she still sounded angry. “It’s nobody’s fault. Except maybe Bellamy Blake’s.” She sounded like she was seething as she said his name. “I knew we couldn’t trust him. He saw a naïve, young girl who was willing to do anything with him, and he didn’t hesitate.”_

No, _Clarke thought adamantly, ready to head down there and defend him if she had to. But fortunately, her dad was more reasonable and didn’t seem dead-set on vilifying the baby’s father. “Don’t say that,” he said._

_“Why not? It’s the truth.”_

_It was so far from the truth, though. Maybe things between her and Bellamy had started as a casual hook-up, but it’d become so much more than that._

_“I don’t think he’s a bad guy, Abby,” Clarke’s father said, and that gave her a semblance of hope. “He didn’t take advantage of her. They were in a serious relationship.”_

_“How serious could it have been?” her mom shrieked. “He up and left to go throw a ball around in college! He doesn’t love her, not enough to stay with her.”_

_Clarke’s heart . . . sort of sank when she heard that._

_“Well, I don’t know,” her father said. “But I do feel like he’ll help her with this child.”_

_“And is that the_ best _case scenario?”_

_Clarke’s heart sank a little further. Because she’d been wondering the same thing._

_“Probably,” her dad said. “Otherwise she ends up being a single mom.”_

_“Oh, god.” Her mother’s voice was tearful when she lamented, “This can’t be happening.”_

_“It is.”_

_“No, this—this_ can’t _be happening, Jake!” she yelled. “She’s too young! She’s—she’s not ready for this.”_

_Clarke wrapped one arm around her stomach._

_“She’s gonna have to get ready,” her dad said._

_“No, this—this isn’t what her life’s supposed to be like!” her mom stammered, crying. “This isn’t who she’s supposed to become!”_

_Clarke started to cry along with her, silently so they wouldn’t hear her and know she was listening in._

_“She’s_ not _ready, Jake,” her mom insisted, sounding increasingly hysterical. “She’s not ready to be a mom!”_

****

“Ahhh!” Clarke screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as she pushed with all her might.

“There you go, Clarke,” Dr. Jackson said. “Keep pushing.”

She pushed as long and as hard as she could, but eventually, she just had to stop and catch her breath. “I can’t do this,” she cried.

Dr. Jackson and the nurses might have assured her otherwise, but it was Bellamy’s voice that she heard. “Yes, you can.”

She shook her head fearfully. “No, I can’t.” It hurt so much, and it was taking so much out of her, maybe more than she had to give.

“Yes, you can, Clarke,” he repeated. “This is our daughter. You’re gonna bring her into the world. Happiest day of our lives, remember?”

She wanted to feel happy. But she was too busy feeling overwhelmed.

“You can do this,” he said again. “I’m right here, okay? You got this. I’m right here with you.”

She looked up at him, gasping for air, and she saw such unwavering faith and belief in his eyes that she felt a sudden wave of resurgence. She was doing this no matter how painful it was.

“Your baby’s crowning, Clarke,” Dr. Jackson said. “A few more good pushes, and her head will be out. You push whenever you feel the urge.”

She squeezed Bellamy’s hand again, feeling as if some of his strength was flowing into her. Again, she bore down, and again she screamed, because screaming just felt natural. She felt the baby—it really did feel like the biggest bowel movement of her life, like she was tearing open or being set on fire. She’d never felt anything so intense before.

All sounds and instructions started to fade, except for Bellamy’s words of encouragement. She zoned in so much on pushing that she couldn’t even really make out what he was saying, but she still heard him, and she still felt him, and that was enough to make her feel strong again.

“Go catch her,” she managed to tell him. “Go catch her. Please.” She knew she could do this. It was more important for Avery to feel his hands than it was for her to.

Bellamy went down to the foot of the bed, standing near the doctor, and before Clarke squeezed her eyes shut again, she noticed his widen in awe. “Ahhh!” She pushed as hard as she could, pushed right through the pain as the baby finally started to come out. She felt an immediate sense of relief as the head came out, and everything after that felt so much easier. The rest of the body was nothing in comparison and came out so quickly. When she no longer had to push, she just slumped back against the pillows, drenched with sweat and feeling completely spent.

And then she heard the baby crying.

Looking down, she watched as Bellamy lifted this beautiful, tiny little person in his big hands. She was still covered in blood and goo, but she was so beautiful. And he had in fact caught her. The first touch that little girl was feeling was her father’s.

Clarke burst into happy tears.

“It’s a girl!” one of the nurses exclaimed.

Bellamy looked a bit stupefied and started crying as he held her. But he could only hold her for a moment before passing her off to the nurses. They started wiping and cleaning her off right there over the hospital bed.

“I wanna see her,” Clarke said. Since she could still hear her crying, every instinct she had was telling her to hold her.

The cleaning was quick, and Clarke watched as the doctors handed the naked baby back to Bellamy. They stayed at his side as he came towards Clarke, and they helped him position the baby on her chest. One of the nurses untied her gown so they could pull it down and she and the baby could have skin to skin contact. She sobbed, so overcome with emotion as she held and gazed down at her baby. Her eyes were shut, and her face was red. But she was so perfect. She had such little hands and fingers.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, look at you,” she said through her tears. This was her daughter. _Their_ daughter.

Bellamy leaned down next to the bed, his face close to both of theirs, tears streaming down his cheeks.

When the baby’s crying began to subside, Clarke collected herself enough to smile at her and say, “Welcome to the word, Avery Octavia Blake.” She glanced away from the little girl only long enough to gauge Bellamy’s reaction, and it was immediate. He started to cry harder, because he hadn’t been expecting his last name. But it just felt right.

“Look at your daddy,” Clarke said to their little girl when her eyes slowly began to open.

“Hey,” Bellamy said, smiling at her. “Oh my god.”

He was the first thing she was seeing in this world, wasn’t he? Clarke’s heart warmed at the thought.

The nurses kept cleaning Avery off, even as she lay on Clarke’s chest. Clarke was eager to try to feed her, but she didn’t even realize she was still connected to the umbilical cord until Dr. Jackson asked Bellamy, “Do you wanna cut the cord?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” Bellamy said.

They had to turn Avery onto her back, and they clamped what looked like very large twist-ties down around the cord. When Bellamy had a hold of the scissors, he looked a little unsure of what to do with them. “Right there?” he asked, positioning the blades before slicing.

“Yep, go ahead and just press down,” Dr. Jackson said. He did, but apparently not hard enough. “One more time.”

This time, the cord cut through, and all the nurses clapped. Bellamy covered his face with one hand and just started crying again. And that was a pretty beautiful thing to see, too.

“Look at her, Bellamy,” Clarke urged him. “Look, she’s so perfect.”

He sniffed, wiped the tears off his face, and gazed down at her in amazement. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed.

It was nice to see him as overcome with emotion as she was. Not that she’d ever doubted he would be. This really was the happiest day and the best moment of both their lives. “You’re a dad,” she told him, sure that he’d be a good one. The _best_ one. He already looked like he was so in love with her.

“And you’re a mom,” he said, stroking her hair. He kissed her temple, and she felt his lips trembling against her skin.

_I’m a mom_ , she thought, letting that fully sink in. She wasn’t just pregnant anymore. She actually had a baby that she could adore and touch and cradle. She’d brought someone into the world, and it was the greatest thing she’d ever done. Nothing else even came close.

_I’m a mom_ , she thought again, smiling down at her baby, a baby she had loved even before seeing her and loved even more now. Yeah. This was definitely who she was meant to become.


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, you guys. As always. That last chapter was a pretty special one to write. And a challenge. Writing a realistic childbirth scene while also trying to convey the emotion and beauty of the moment . . . it wasn't something I had ever done before, so it was really cool to write something like that for the first time.

_Chapter 66_

Before he could leave the room—not that he _wanted_ to leave, but he did feel the need to touch base with everyone out in the waiting room—Bellamy had to have a wristband put on. Clarke got one, too, as did Avery, except hers was on her ankle. They all said the same thing: _Blake, Baby girl, Avery_ , as well as the date, doctor’s name, and some identification numbers of some sort.

Bellamy walked out into the waiting room proudly wearing that wristband, beaming as he looked down at the name a few times. _Blake_. Avery was a _Blake_.

There were more people there than he remembered. Lexa and Miller and some other people had shown up. Some people were walking around, some were stretching in their seats, and some were taking to each other or watching TV. But when he showed up, they all stood, stared at him with wide, expectant eyes, and looked as if they were holding their breath.

“She had the baby,” he announced.

It was a whole mixture of sounds after that, some delighted gasps, some cheers, and of course some happy crying. People started hugging each other and hugging him, and it was a lot going on. But it was all good. All _so_ good. He hugged his mom and Octavia the longest, naturally, and was surprised that Octavia was actually one of the people who was crying. She didn’t shed many tears.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Thanks.” He felt himself grinning from ear to ear, because he was just so damn happy.

“Are they doing okay?” Clarke’s mom asked.

“Yeah, they’re good,” he assured her. “She did so good. She . . . she didn’t even have an epidural. She just . . .” He felt tears sting his eyes as he thought about how hard that had been, how much Clarke had just had to go through, and he was so proud of her. “And Avery’s beautiful,” he said, his voice wavering with emotion. “I mean, when you guys see her . . .”

“When can we?” Octavia asked eagerly.

“Not yet, honey,” his mother told her.

“Yeah, we’re still kinda . . . there’s a lot goin’ on,” he said, “but I just wanted to let you guys know.” Right now, the priorities were getting Avery to feed for the first time and then getting her through her first exams and check-ups.

“Well, just go back there,” Raven urged him. “Don’t worry about us.”

“Yeah, go be with her,” Murphy agreed.

“Okay.” He was glad they didn’t expect much more out of him right now, because he didn’t want to leave his girls for too long. “Thanks, guys,” he said before he headed back down the hall to Clarke’s room, feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible to have all of them there, to feel support from so many people.

When he got back to the room, he saw that Clarke was holding Avery to her breast, and one of the nurses, the designated lactation consultant, was working with her to get the baby feeding while the other one checked her vitals. “There you go,” the lactation nurse said softly. “That’s a good latch.”

Clarke smiled down at Avery in awe, then glanced up at him and said, “Bellamy, come look. I’m actually doing this.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen a woman breastfeed before. If it had been anyone but Clarke, he would have tried to be polite and look away. “Wow,” he said, making his way towards the bed. It was pretty amazing seeing her doing that and making it look so natural. It _was_ natural, he supposed, but for her to be doing it for the first time . . . she didn’t seem hesitant or unsure at all.

“Now you won’t actually produce any milk for another day or two,” the nurse told her.

“Why not?” Clarke asked.

“Because your body needs to trigger the hormones that tell it to make milk,” the nurse explained. “That’s what’s happening right now. But don’t worry, you’re still nourishing her. What she’s getting right now is called colostrum. It’s sort of the step before breastmilk.”

_Crazy_ , Bellamy thought. Clarke could _nourish_ another human being. Moms were . . . fucking awesome, honestly.

“Well, as long as that’s normal,” Clarke said.

“It is,” the nurse assured her.

As Avery continued to suckle away—another thing that amazed Bellamy, because she wasn’t even an hour old, yet she still had this incredible instinct—Clarke asked, “So she’s gonna need to do this every couple hours?”

“Most likely,” the nurse said.

Clarke wasn’t going to be getting much uninterrupted sleep then. Bellamy worried about that a bit, but she didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. “Isn’t this surreal, Bellamy?” she said, beaming a smile at him.

“Yeah.” It felt like a very vivid dream in some ways, but when he touched Avery’s soft little head, he knew it was real. “I love you,” he said, not just to Clarke, not just to Avery, but to both of them.

“I love you, too,” Clarke said.

He leaned in and kissed her, just a quick kiss, but it felt pretty meaningful in its own way.

“So did you tell everyone?” she asked him.

“Yeah. They were really happy,” he said. “Lexa’s here now, too. And Miller and Jasper and Lincoln. Everyone.”

“That’s nice,” Clarke said. “But I don’t think I’m ready for them all to come back here yet.”

“No, me, neither.” He wasn’t going to rush through these moments with Clarke and . . . well, with his family. They needed a little bit of time that was just for them.

“Plus, I still have to deliver the placenta.” Clarke made a face of disgust.

“Oh, no, you already did that,” the other nurse in the room informed her.

“I did?”

“Yep. You were just so wrapped up in your new baby that you didn’t even notice.”

Clarke laughed a little. “Works for me.”

Bellamy was relieved for her, because he just wanted her to be able to relax now. She deserved that much.

“Look at her,” he said when Avery tried to grab onto one of his massive fingers. “She’s already trying to grab onto things.”

“She’s amazing,” Clarke said. “Look how tiny her hands are. Granted, yours are really big.”

“She’s just tiny all over,” he said. Little head, little hands, little feet. “How much does she weigh?” he asked the nurses.

“Seven pounds, two ounces,” one of them replied.

“So I just lost seven pounds, two ounces,” Clarke declared.

“Oh, more than that,” the lactation consultant informed her. “You lost blood, fluids, amniotic fluid. Most moms lose around twelve pounds.”

“That’s fantastic,” Clarke said excitedly. “Oh, this was all worth it. All the hormones and mood swings and even all the pain . . . I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

_Me, neither_ , Bellamy thought. Not that he’d had to go through anywhere near as much as she had to get to this point.

Avery made a little gurgling sound, stopped suckling, and Clarke said, “Oh, I think she’s done.”

“You can go ahead and wipe her mouth off,” the lactation nurse said, handing Clarke a towel so she could do so. “There you go. Good job.”

Clarke kept Avery close to her chest—skin to skin contact promoting that bonding and everything—and asked, “What happens next?”

“Well, now she gets all her traditional newborn care,” the nurse said.

“Like shots and stuff?”

The nurse nodded. “There are a couple of shots. They usually don’t like those very much. And we’ll give her a full medical exam, and then she’ll get a nice sponge bath once she can maintain her temperature.”

“Where does that happen?” Clarke asked.

“We can do that all here in this room if that’s what you prefer, or we can take her to the nursery.”

Clarke looked at Bellamy and asked, “What do you think?”

“It’s up to you,” he said. He was fine with whatever she preferred right now.

She thought about it for a moment, then said, “I don’t wanna sound like a bad mom, but . . . I’m so tired.”

“Of course you are,” the nurse said. “Think of everything you’ve just gone through.”

“Sending her to the nursery doesn’t make you a bad mom at all, if that’s what you choose,” the other nurse added. “You need time to recover on your own, too.”

Clarke still looked a bit torn over the decision and reluctant to even let go of Avery, so Bellamy put his hand on her shoulder and reassured her, “It’s okay.” She didn’t have to feel bad about feeling tired.

“Okay,” she echoed, blinking back tears. “Can he go with her?” she asked shakily.

“Absolutely.”

“Will you do that?” she asked him.

“Yeah.” Hell, he _wanted_ to go with her, just to see everything that was going on, ask questions if he had them.

“Just go be with her then,” Clarke said, carefully handing Avery over to him. “I just have to rest for a minute. But don’t leave her.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he promised, holding the tiny little blanket-swaddled girl close to his chest. He wanted to try some skin to skin contact later, too. He’d heard about dads who took their shirts off when holding babies because it promoted bonding with them, too. And since he wasn’t actually _biologically_ bonded with her . . . yeah, he wanted to do that.

“Okay,” Clarke said, her sleepy eyes never leaving Avery as he carried her towards the door.

It was the lactation nurse that came to the door with him and said, “She says, ‘I’ll see you soon, Mommy.’”

“See you soon,” Clarke said, her eyes starting to fall closed despite how hard she appeared to be trying to keep them open.

“Follow me,” the nurse said as she opened the door. Bellamy headed out into the hall with her, where some sort of transporter crib was waiting for her. “You can put her right in here,” she said.

He didn’t really want to let go of her, either, but he figured he’d just do whatever the hospital staffers told him to do. They were pros at this; he was the newbie.

“And off we go,” the nurse said after he set her down.

The nursery wasn’t far away, but Bellamy did have to put on some scrubs and wash his hands thoroughly before he could enter. Which made sense. That required him to take his eyes off of Avery for a couple of minutes, though, which he felt bad about. When he got in the nursery, he saw a couple of other babies, two of whom were sleeping, and one that was being bottle-fed by a nurse. But Avery had both a new nurse and a doctor—not Dr. Jackson but an older man, a pediatrician—with her. He approached her little table to see that they had un-swaddled her and placed a little metallic-looking heart on her stomach.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“A thermometer,” the nurse said. “Cute, isn’t it? We’re constantly monitoring her temperature, and she’s laying on a warmer. Right now, her body’s taking heat away from her feet and hands to supply warm blood to her heart, her lungs, her brain, all that good stuff.”

He couldn’t even wrap his mind around all the things that were happening with her right now. How did someone go from being inside a womb to being pushed through a birthing canal to existing in the outside world in such a short amount of time? (Well, it probably hadn’t felt short to Clarke, but . . .)

“And what about this thing?” he asked, pointing to what remained of the umbilical cord. “It’ll fall off on its own, right?”

“Yes.”

It was a little bit strange to see a stump coming from a baby’s bellybutton, not the kind of thing people actually pictured when they pictured newborns. “Sorry, I have a lot of questions,” he said.

“That’s fine,” the nurse said. “We have a lot of answers.”

The doctor tapped the machine displaying Avery’s temperature and said, “Even though she’s only at ninety-seven right now, it’s nothing to be concerned about. We should start to see that go up soon. And I’ll be examining her while it does.”

Bellamy nodded, but when the doctor took out a needle, he stiffened in alarm. “Wait, what’s that?”

“We have to draw her blood to check her glucose level,” the doctor explained. “Among other things. A blood test is the best indicator of a baby’s overall health.”

_Blood test?_ he thought. _Already?_ But she wasn’t even an hour old yet. More like forty-five minutes. And she already had to have her blood drawn? “Okay,” he said. Even though he didn’t like the thought of it, he knew it had to be done. God forbid, if something was wrong with her, something that they couldn’t see and Bellamy couldn’t even pronounce, they needed to find out.

The doctor poked the bottom of Avery’s foot to draw blood, which caused her to cry out. “I know, that doesn’t feel good, does it?” he said.

_Sorry, Princess_ , Bellamy thought, wishing he could make it painless for her.

“It can be hard to see your baby get poked like that,” the nurse said, “but just remember, it’s all for her own good.”

He nodded, knowing there were reasons—and maybe even laws, in some instances—for them doing whatever it was they did. Avery was in good hands. And when this exam was done, she could be back in his hands again.

“Now I’m gonna do a full body exam,” the nurse said, “just to make sure nothing’s broken or functioning improperly.” She started to feel Avery all over, pressing down in some spots, and doing things like circling her legs out from her hips. She must have been checking to see if everything was aligned properly or something. She looked perfect to Bellamy, so he hoped nothing was wrong. He held his breath through what felt like the entire physical exam, but the nurse talked him through it and explained things like how all the creases on her skin were equal, which apparently was a good thing, and how her hips checked out as aligned, and how it was normal for her to be a little swollen.

“Her feet are really . . . wrinkled,” he commented, wondering if that was normal, too. “And dry.” He hadn’t pictured that when he pictured a newborn, either, because people always talked about how soft the skin of babies was.

“That’s the sign of a full-term infant,” the nurse said.

“Well, almost full-term.” She’d still surprised them by coming a little bit early. But he didn’t mind. May 9 was the perfect day to be Avery’s birthday.

From what Bellamy observed, the nurse was the one who did most of the work, but the doctor remained to give some more shots. He gave her a vitamin K shot in her thigh, which apparently all babies got, but Avery cried upon getting pricked with that one, too, but at least it was quick and didn’t seem to hurt for too long. There was also a Hepatitis B shot, which Bellamy had to grant them permission to give her. He had to look away for that one, because he just hated having to stand there and watch her cry and not be able to do anything about it.

Thankfully, once the shots were done, it was onto something less painful: eye drops. Luckily, Avery had her eyes open, so that went smoothly enough.

“She’s really lookin’ around a lot,” Bellamy noted. He hadn’t imagined that she would be so alert right away.

“Yeah, she wants to see the world for the first time,” the nurse said.

He wondered what the world looked like to her. Or did it look like anything? “Can she?” he asked. Puppies and kittens were basically born blind and deaf, so were babies different?

“It’s blurry for her right now,” the nurse said, “but yes, she can see you.”

_She can see me?_ He let that sink in as he looked down at her and smiled. She stopped squirming and making noises and instead just looked right back at him through puffy eyes. He wondered if she knew him, if she knew that he was the same guy who’d talked to her while she was in her mother’s stomach.

Once Avery’s temperature was up to ninety-eight degrees and the pediatrician had already left, the nurse sat her up and said, “Okay, you’re warm enough for your little bath now. Yes, you are. You’re gonna be so clean when you go back to your mommy.” She proceeded to wipe her off with a warm washcloth, which Avery didn’t seem to particularly enjoy, but Bellamy kind of got a kick out of it. His mom had told him that he never really liked getting baths when he was little, either.

“Are you two wanting her to stay in the room with you or stay here in the nursery?” the nurse asked once she was done with the bath and had begun to put a diaper on Avery.

“Uh, in the room, I think,” he said, slightly distracted as he tried to pay attention to the diapering process. Yeah, he was gonna need some help on that before he left the hospital, because everything he’d learned about it in Lamaze had left his head. “I mean, it’s really up to Clarke. I know she’s tired.”

“As are you, I’m sure,” the nurse said.

“Nah, I’m alright.” He’d probably crash out at some point, but not yet. “I just wanna watch her.” He stared down at the little girl, still in awe, pretty sure that he’d never stop being in awe of her. Avery Blake was . . . pretty special.

Once the baby’s temperature reached that perfect 98.6, she was swaddled in two blankets, and the nurse put a little pink knit cap on her to help keep her warm. Everything had checked out as normal, so that meant the exam was over, and Bellamy was able to take her back to the hospital room. The nurse accompanied him and held open the door as he pushed the transport crib inside. Clarke must not have been sleeping very deeply, or maybe she just sensed that her newborn daughter was near, because she opened her eyes and asked, “Is she done?”

“Yeah. They said everything looks good.” He pushed the crib close to her bed and asked her, “Did you get a little sleep?”

“A little,” she said.

He wanted her to get some more, especially since Avery was going to need to be fed again in a couple more hours. But he could read the look on Clarke’s weary face clearly: She wanted to hold her again. He picked her up out of the crib an handed her over. As much as he wanted to be greedy and hold her himself, there would be plenty of time for that while Clarke was sleeping.

“I can’t believe she’s finally here,” Clarke said. “It’s her birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Avery,” he said, stroking her little cheek with his index finger.

“Yeah, happy birthday,” Clarke said, resting her head back against the pillow. “I wish I had more energy.”

“You deserve to rest,” he said. He could stay awake, no problem.

“Mmm,” Clarke moaned, her eyes momentarily falling shut. It looked to take a great deal of what little energy she had just to open them again. “Maybe you should hold her,” she suggested. “Here.”

He took the baby back from her, surprised how natural this all felt for him, too. Had he ever even held a baby before, besides Octavia? He couldn’t remember.

“I like her middle name,” he said. His sister would like it, too.

“I knew you would.” She managed a sleepy smile.

“And her last name,” he added. “I wasn’t sure . . . well, you know.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I probably should’ve asked if that was okay.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. “Hearing you say her name like that was . . .” He swallowed hard, feeling like he could get emotional just thinking about it again, because it really made him feel . . . proud wasn’t even a strong enough word. Morel like honored. “It means a lot,” he said, unable to say more without crying.

“Good,” she said, closing her eyes again. “I can’t stay awake, Bellamy,” she said, all of her words blending together.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Sleep while you can. I got her.”

“You got her,” Clarke breathed out as sleep took hold of her. She’d probably be drifting in and out of it a lot, and she was going to be on whatever Avery wanted her feeding schedule to be. Maybe once she slept for a couple of hours, though, she’d feel up to having some people come into the room. Her parents, at the very least. Hopefully his mom and Octavia, too.

There he sat next to her hospital bed, with a baby in his arms, one who had fallen asleep just like her mother had. And despite how tired he actually was, too, he’d never felt more awake in his entire life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke knew she was going to have to sleep whenever Avery slept. And that was how it was going to be for months, unless she got lucky and somehow had a baby who could sleep through the night. It made her feel better to know that Bellamy was staying awake and watching over her, even though he had to be exhausted, too.

She woke up instinctively—and was proud of herself for that—when she heard Avery just beginning to cry. Figuring she needed to be fed again, she tried it on her own this time without the help of the nurse. And it actually worked. At first, Avery didn’t have a good latch, so she stayed calm, started over, and that time, it worked. It wasn’t Avery’s fault, either. She was a natural, but Clarke was kind of the one who was fumbling.

Bellamy reminded her to drink some water while she was feeding, because he didn’t want her getting dehydrated. Unfortunately, that only made it so she had to go to the bathroom. Which was an experience. It involved two nurses helping her stand and walk in there, warning her that there would be a lot of blood and other fluids. She chose not to look, because just feeling it was enough. They gave her sanitary supplies, of course, but overall, it was just really gross.

Since she was definitely still recovering, she didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about not allowing visitors in to see the baby until she was ready for them; so she fell back asleep after Avery’s second feeding, dozed for a while, and awoke again when she heard a gurgle. False alarm, though. Avery wasn’t getting fussy or needing to be fed again. She was just making sounds here and there while Bellamy carried her around the room.

“Hey,” he said when she saw she was awake again.

“Hey.” She looked to the window, unable to tell if it was sunny or not outside since the curtains were pulled. “What time is it?” she asked him.

“6:00,” he replied.

“At night?”

“Yeah.” He sat down in the chair next to her hospital bed, and she noticed that Avery was trying to keep her eyes open, trying to pay attention and look at the world around her. But it’d been a big, tiring day for her, too, and her little eyes were closing once again.

“I told Raven and Murphy and everyone to just go home for the night,” Bellamy revealed. “But they’re gonna come back tomorrow. Everyone, all our friends.”

“Good.” That took a little pressure off tonight. Besides, they’d all been hanging out there long enough. Over twenty-four hours. They were pretty damn good friends. “Are my parents still here?” she asked, having a harder time picturing them leaving without seeing the baby first.

“Yeah,” he said, “just them and Alyssa and Kane, and my mom and Octavia.”

So the family members then. Not that Raven and Murphy and all those guys weren’t family, but . . . a different kind of family. “They probably wanna see her,” she said.

“I think so. You feel up to it?” he asked.

Now was probably about as good of a time as any, with Avery snoozing and her not feeling the urge to pee. “Yeah.”

“Alright.” He carefully handed Avery over to her, setting her on her chest, and said, “I’ll go get ‘em.”

“Not everyone at once, okay?” She didn’t want things to get too chaotic.

“Okay,” he agreed as he left the room. He must have been so ready to sleep, but he still had this bounce in his step. Adrenaline or something.

“You hear that?” she said to Avery, gently patting her back. “You’re about to meet your grandparents.” She was really curious how her mom and dad would react to her, just given . . . everything. Given the fact that they’d almost been grandparents once before. “They’re gonna love you,” she said, “just like Daddy and I do.” There might have been a time when they didn’t love the idea of her being a mom, but now, things were different.

****

_Clarke smelled breakfast before she even left her bedroom. Various aromas drifted upstairs and floated underneath the crack in her door. When she ventured downstairs, she saw that her mom had prepared an abundance of pancakes, eggs, and hash browns. None of that really sounded appetizing, though. Her stomach felt a bit too precarious to shovel down any of that, but she didn’t want to be rude and turn it down. So she took a seat at the table and allowed her mom to set plate after plate of food in front of her, even though a simple banana would have sufficed._

_“Mom, I don’t need so much breakfast,” she said._

_“Sure you do,” her mother said. She didn’t crack a smile or even look Clarke in the eye, and her voice was sort of a grumble when she added, “You’re eating for two now.”_

_Clarke looked down at her stomach, wondering when that would start to become obvious. So far, she didn’t_ look _pregnant. But what if she started to show soon? Then everyone would know. And she’d have to tell Bellamy._

_“Did Dad already leave for the day?” she asked as her mother wiped off the mess she’d made on the kitchen counter._

_“No,” her mom replied. “He’s in his study.”_

_Clarke glanced that way, noting the closed double doors. She usually tried not to bother him when he was working in there, but . . . it didn’t seem likely that he was getting any work done. “I should go talk to him,” she decided, standing up from the table._

_“No,” he mother said sharply. “I think . . . I think he’d just like a little time alone right now.”_

_Clarke frowned. What did that mean? He didn’t want to talk to her? He didn’t even want to see her?_

_“He’s still figuring out how to handle everything,” her mom said. “We both are.”_

_Slowly, sadly, Clarke sat back down._ So am I, _she thought. Her mind was still racing with worry, too, even though she’d had a few more days to think about this. She could give her dad space for now, but eventually, she was going to need his advice. And his support. “I didn’t do this on purpose, you know,” she said weakly. “It was an accident.”_

_Her mom turned around, back towards her, shoulders tense, and pressed her hands onto the kitchen counter. “I know,” she said, sounding a little . . . angry. Or maybe just stressed. It was hard to tell the difference. “I’ve seen accidents like this happen before,” she said. “And I’ve seen what happens to girls who . . . grow up too fast.”_

_Clarke could only imagine what fears were running through her head. If it was anything like the things she’d seen in movies, then yeah, it was scary stuff. But she wasn’t going to drop out of school or get hooked on drugs or anything else extreme like that. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” she said._

_“Oh, nothing?” Her mom spun around, a challenging look on her face. “You think_ nothing _will change?”_

_“Well . . . no.” She wasn’t that naïve._

_“You have no idea how hard this is gonna be for you, Clarke, even with your father and me helping out,” her mother warned her. “Instead of going out with your friends, you’ll be at home with your baby. Instead of going to school, you’ll be going to doctor’s appointments. I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up having to take online classes instead of . . .”_

_Clarke tensed._ Instead of what? _she thought._ Going to high school? _No, things wouldn’t change that drastically. Would they?_

_“And what about college?” her mom asked. “Have you even though about that?”_

_She really hadn’t, because right now, that just seemed so far away, something to worry about when she got closer to it. “I’m just taking it one day at a time,” she said. That felt like the only way she could manage right now, the only way she could avoid a complete emotional breakdown._

_“Fine, you do that,” her mom muttered, turning back around to continue cleaning up the kitchen. “I’ll think about the future.”_

_Clarke opened up her mouth to say something, to try to stick up for herself, in a way, but no words came out. Because she feared her mom was right. She wasn’t thinking about the future. Not really. Because the future scared her._

****

Clarke’s mom was the first visitor to come into the hospital room when Bellamy opened up the door for them. Her dad was right behind her, and the minute they saw Avery, they both got teary-eyed. Alyssa and Kane came in with them, both of them hanging back a bit.

“Oh . . . Clarke,” her mom gasped quietly, coming towards the bed. She bent down close to Avery, clasped one hand over her mouth as if to keep from crying too loudly, and instead just let a few happy tears fall. “Look at her,” she said. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed. “She’s a little sleepy right now.”

“I bet you both are,” her father said.

“Kinda.” Part of her had a little bit of an adrenaline rush going on, though, too. As tired as she was, she also felt this rush of energy when she was awake and holding her baby in her arms. After such a long time waiting around, she was sure her parents wanted to feel that rush, too, so she offered, “Here, you wanna hold her?”

“Oh, yes,” her mother answered eagerly. Clarke handed her over, making sure her mom was cradling her neck and head and everything, even though the woman was a doctor and knew way more about handling babies than either she or Bellamy did. “Hi, sweetie,” she cooed. “You’re so precious.”

So _precious_ , Clarke thought. Maybe she was biased, but Avery was the cutest little baby she’d ever seen.

“So everything went well?” her dad asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “It was endless, but . . . Bellamy got me through it.” She smiled at her boyfriend, so grateful that he’d shown up, because there was no one else in the world she could have gone through this with.

“I didn’t do much,” he said modestly.

“Yes, you did.” She doubted he even understood the strength he’d given her, how just hearing him say that she was doing great and having his hand to hold onto had gotten her through the most demanding experience of her life.

Kane walked to the other side of her bed, told her, “We’re all very proud of you,” and bent down to give her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Thanks,” she said. It meant a lot that he was there, because even though he wasn’t technically her stepfather yet, he already felt like one. It was nice to know that, even though her dad lived in Baltimore, Avery would always have one of her grandpas very close by.

“Congratulations, Clarke,” Alyssa said, standing at the foot of the bed. “I hope it’s okay I came back here.”

“Of course.” Despite their shaky start, Clarke’s opinion of her dad’s girlfriend had really changed, especially with the bonding they’d done a couple days ago. “You’re kind of a grandma now, you know,” she pointed out.

Bellamy made a face. “Oh, that’s weird.”

Alyssa laughed a little. “I’ll take it.”

It wasn’t surprising that everyone wanted to hold the baby, or that everyone wanted pictures taken of them holding the baby. Gradually, Avery did start to wake up and get fussy, perhaps because she was seeing all sorts of new faces for the first time, or maybe because she was hungry again. That was everyone’s unofficial cue to leave so Clarke could try to feed her again, but she asked her mom to stay behind and help her out with that. Just to make sure she was doing it right. And she was. So once Avery was latched back on, her mom left the room, and Bellamy left again, too, this time to go get his mom and sister.

“We got this,” Clarke said to her daughter as she suckled away. They were already finding their rhythm, making a pretty good team.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back in waiting room, Bellamy saw some things he’d never seen before or thought he’d never see again: His mom and Abby hugging. A big, long embrace. Abby and Jake actually hugging again for the first time in years. Abby hugging Alyssa. Basically, Abby hugging everyone. She wasn’t the most tactile or affectionate person, but her granddaughter’s birth seemed to have brought out a softer side of her.

Clearly she didn’t want to leave, but Kane talked her into it. He practically had to drag her out the door, but he managed it. Alyssa didn’t have to drag Jake, but Jake did make sure to let Bellamy know that they were staying in a hotel that was only three minutes away, and to call if they needed anything.

Once it was just his mom and his sister left, he felt . . . really relaxed. Because with Abby and Jake, he knew there were still conversations he needed to have with them someday, issues they’d all have to work through. But he was issue-free with his family, and he was so excited for them to see . . . his daughter. Because that was what Avery was to him.

“Thanks for waiting,” he said as he led them down the hall. “Clarke just didn’t want too many people back there at once.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” his mom said. “I understand.”

“I’m so ready,” Octavia, doing a little skip of excitement. “I get to meet my niece.”

“You’re gonna like her,” he told her.

“You think she’ll like me?”

“Ah, she’ll tolerate you,” he joked, “like the rest of us do.”

She whacked his arm playfully, and he just smirked.

When they got to the room, he first checked with Clarke to make sure it was okay to come in. When he got the all-clear, he said, mostly to Octavia, “Okay, don’t be too loud now. She just woke up.”

“Who?” Octavia asked. “Clarke or Avery?”

“Both of ‘em.” He opened the door, almost grandly gesturing inside, and said, “Come on in.”

Almost immediately, Octavia ignored his request to not be too loud, because she squealed—the highest-pitched sound he’d ever heard her make—and went scampering towards Clarke and the baby. “Oh my god, she’s so small!” she exclaimed.

“She’s normal-sized,” Clarke assured her.

“But she still looks so small. And cute. Like abnormally cute,” Octavia babbled. “I have to be honest, I don’t think most babies are cute. I think they’re kinda weird-looking. I mean, _I_ was cute, of course, but . . .”

“Do you wanna hold her?” Clarke cut in.

Octavia’s whole face lit up. “Yes!”

Since Bellamy was pretty sure his little sister had even less experience with babies than he did, he made sure to keep a careful eye on her, to make sure she was holding Avery the right way and not letting her head dangle or anything.

“Aww . . .” Octavia cooed. “She’s looking right at me.”

“Probably thinks you look pretty funny,” Bellamy joked.

“Or . . .” Clarke said. “Maybe she wants to see the person she’s named after.”

Octavia was so absorbed in the baby that she didn’t even catch onto that at first. “Yeah,” she said. Bellamy’s mom heard it, though, because she gave him a curious look. Finally, the words seemed to resonate with Octavia, too, because she looked at Clarke confusedly and asked, “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Her name,” Clarke said. “It’s Avery Octavia Blake.”

Octavia’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Are you serious?” she said in disbelief. “Oh my god, that totally makes up for not being her godmother.” She smiled from ear to ear and looked down at Avery again. “Hey, baby girl,” she said. “You have a really awesome name. And a really awesome aunt.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile. It was kind of cool to see that his sister actually did like kids, because someday, she’d probably have a couple of her own.

“Blake, huh?” his mother said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t about to burst Octavia’s bubble or anything, but Avery’s last name was even more awesome than her middle one.

“Come here,” his mom said, opening her arms and pulling him into a hug. Her body shook gently as he hugged her and she cried a bit. But they were a different kind of happy tears than the kind Abby had shed. Because she knew how much it meant to him for Avery to have his last name. He didn’t have to say anything, because she was his mom, and she just knew.

Just as he’d expected, there were a lot more pictures taken as both Avery’s grandmother and her aunt alternated holding her. Clarke, although she insisted she looked awful—she didn’t—agreed to be in some of the pictures, only to help commemorate this huge day in all their lives. His mom took a lot, some on her phone, some on his, of the three of them, with Avery in her mother’s arms and him kneeling down next to the hospital bed. Tired as he was, he couldn’t stop smiling, because he was so damn happy. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy before. He was a dad now, and that was the best feeling in the world.


	67. Chapter 67

_Chapter 67_

Diaper-changing was . . . daunting. Even though they’d practiced in Lamaze class and had asked a nurse to help them the first couple times, when it was time to do it on their own, Bellamy couldn’t help but feel like he and Clarke were in over their heads. What if they screwed it up somehow? What if they forgot something?

Clarke, it seemed, was less intimidated by him. “Okay, we can do this,” she said as they stood together at the changing table, looking down at Avery, who was busier looking towards the window than at either of them. “Just like we practiced, just like the nurse showed us,” she said. “Hands washed?”

“Hands washed,” he confirmed.

“Okay, then.” Clarke was the one to make the first move, unhooking Avery’s diaper at the sides. “Diaper off,” she declared. “Oh, look, I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“I’m sure it’ll get worse,” he predicted, lifting up Avery’s legs so Clarke could pull the diaper out from underneath her. For now, there still wasn’t much that their little girl was digesting.

“Did you know they need diaper changes, like, ten times a day?” Clarke said as she disposed of the old one quickly.

“So, what, that’s seventy diaper changes a week?” he calculated. “Right? I’m too tired. I can’t do math.”

“Right,” she confirmed. “But we can do this.” She took one of the wipes and wiped off Avery’s bottom in the exact same way the nurse had, front to back because going in the other direction ran the risk of infection. “So much easier than a boy,” she mumbled. “At least with a little girl, you don’t have to worry about dodging streams of pee.”

“True,” he said. Oh, in some ways, having a girl was going to be a lot more difficult, though. Like when she got her first period someday or wanted to go on her first date. Or when she inevitably made him watch Disney Princess movies every single night. There was a reason why lots of dads knew all the songs in _Frozen_. He’d be damned if he let her prefer that movie over _The Little Mermaid_ , though. Princess Ariel was fucking iconic.

“See, we’re good at this,” Clarke said, handing him the brand new diaper so he could be the one to put it on.

“We’re not bad,” he agreed, getting over his fear of the whole process as he stuck it together on the sides. He made sure not to cover up the umbilical cord stump, even though it looked weird. “We’ll have to make a competition out of it or something,” he proposed, “see who becomes the fastest diaper-changer.”

That got a laugh out of her, but only a short-lived one before she reached down to put one hand to her crotch and said, “Oh, crap.”

“What?” His first instinct was that something was wrong.

“I think I peed a little,” she said. “There’s, like, no control down there right now. It’s awful.”

It sounded awful, but at least it wasn’t anything worse. “That’s okay,” he assured her. All the nurses had told her that was to be expected.

“Yeah, I’m practically wearing a diaper myself right now, so I’m not really concerned about it,” she said, sitting back down on the side of her bed. “I am looking forward to showering, though.”

To him, she still looked pretty damn good, but he could only imagine how eager she was to get clean again. He put Avery back in her crib, did his best to swaddle her up a bit—his swaddling technique still needed some work—and then rolled the crib over to the bed so he and Clarke could both still watch her as they sat and talked. “How’re you feeling?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

“Still tired,” she said, “but happy. Kinda sore.”

“Where?”

She gave him a look. “Where do you think?”

“Oh.” Yeah, that made sense. She’d pushed a whole baby out of there, so what did he expect?

“But do you notice I’m already looking thinner?” she said, smiling as she pressed one hand to her stomach.

“You look great,” he said. It was kind of crazy how much of her baby belly she’d already lost. Some of it was still there, of course, but not like it had been. He’d gotten so used to struggling to wrap his arms around her that it was almost going to be weird to just be able to hold her so close again.

Clarke picked up a stack of papers from her bedside table and handed it to him. “Look at all this stuff, all these rules I have to follow to heal up properly,” she said. “The weight loss is nice, but . . . it’s all gonna be a process.”

He skimmed through the shortest bullet points, because quite frankly, this was way too much reading for him even when he’d gotten enough sleep. “Drink eight to ten glasses of water a day,” he said. “Wow.”

“I’m gonna drink while I breastfeed,” she said. “That’s what they recommend.”

This whole having to pee a lot thing wasn’t going anywhere then, was it? Because that was a lot of water to take in on one day. “Avoid stairs,” he read on. “I guess I’ll be carrying you then.”

“Sorry,” she said quietly.

“No, I don’t mind.” He could haul her up and down the stairs, no problem.

“You’re gonna have to do a lot,” she warned him.

“Clarke, you’re literally nourishing a child right now, and recovering from giving birth to her,” he reminded her. “I can do whatever you need.” He was ready for this, for all that it entailed. He could run all the errands and do the housework and cook the meals. He could be the one to wake up and change Avery in the middle of the night. Unless she needed to be fed. There was no way he could be a substitute for that.

“Take showers, not baths,” he read. “Alright. Don’t drive until your doctor says it’s okay. Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “Something to do with the seatbelt, probably. Look at all this fun stuff.” She turned to the next page and pointed to a section called _Physical Changes_.

“Engorged breasts,” he noted. “Constipation. Aches and pains. Sounds fun.” Man, women as a gender just had it rough. He would have thought that making it through the pregnancy was the hardest part, but this didn’t exactly sound much easier. “Ooh, what’s this?” he said when his eyes caught sight of a heading on the bottom of the page. “Sexual relations.”

She must have already ready through that, because she told him, “It’s gonna take four to six weeks.”

“Four to six . . .” He stopped himself before sounding outraged or disappointed. “That’s fine.” They could go four to six weeks without having sex. Towards the end of her pregnancy, they hadn’t been having that much of it anyway. Besides, there was other stuff they could do. They could find some time to appreciate just making out and . . . massaging and stuff. “We’re gonna be so tired,” he said, “so it’s not like we’re gonna . . .”

“Be craving it,” she filled in.

“Exactly.” Although, once they were able to start back up again, he was pretty sure he was going to be insatiable.

“And that’ll give me more time to get my body back into shape,” she said. “Plus, I’m gonna have to get back on birth control at some point, but I think breastfeeding can help with that. I don’t know, I gotta find out more.”

_Birth control_. He hadn’t even thought about that. Did that mean he was gonna have to start wearing a condom? It was fine, and he’d do it without complaint, but . . .

“Maybe I’ll just get an IUD this time,” she pondered. “Those are really effective.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t even know what different forms of birth control were all out there, let alone how effective the different types were. She probably didn’t want to start up on just the pill again, not after . . . well, high school.

Before he could really read anything under the _Sexual Relations_ heading or talk through contraception options with her at all, Dr. Jackson knocked on the door and came into the room. “Good morning,” he said, greeting them with a smile.

“Hi,” Clarke said.

“How’s the Blake family doing today?”

Bellamy smiled, liking the sound of that. _The Blake family_.

“Good,” Clarke replied. “We changed her diaper.”

“Very nice.” Dr. Jackson came up to Avery’s crib, looked down at her, and didn’t make any effort to change anything about her diaper, so Bellamy took that to mean they’d done everything right. “Settling right into those parental roles, I see,” the doctor said. “I had a feeling you both would.”

“I think Lamaze helped a lot,” Bellamy said. Without that class, he probably would have felt more overwhelmed.

“Yeah, that was really good,” Clarke agreed. “I don’t wanna leave yet today, though. I still don’t feel ready.”

“Yeah, me, neither,” Bellamy said. As much as he wanted to get home and to get Avery in the nursery he’d put together just for her, today was too soon.

“We’re planning on releasing you tomorrow,” Dr. Jackson said. “So we’ve got all day to go over anything you have questions about.”

“Oh, I have a list, actually,” Bellamy said, reaching into his pocket. He’d jotted them all down on a napkin that had come with the dinner mom had brought him last night.

“When did you make that?” Clarke asked him.

“While you were asleep.” He wanted some answers straight from the doctor and not just from Google.

“He hasn’t slept,” Clarke told Dr. Jackson.

“I will, tonight,” he promised. He’d lost track of how many hours he’d been awake, but it was definitely a lot, and he was starting to feel it. “Um . . . bathing,” he said, having to squint to make out his horrible handwriting. “Burping. That umbilical cord stump thing . . . it kinda freaks me out, so I wanna know more about it.”

“Alright,” Dr. Jackson said.

“And ways to bond,” Bellamy added, “because . . . you know, I just wanna bond with her.”

“You already are,” Clarke assured him, putting her hand on top of his.

“Yeah, but I wanna bond even more.” He felt like it was especially important for him, because . . . well, he didn’t have biology helping him out in that regard.

“No problem,” Dr. Jackson said. “We can go over anything and everything you wanna know. And the nurses can help you practice anything you wanna practice. For right now, though, I’m here to check on the new mom.”

“Oh, goodie,” Clarke said. “What do you wanna hear about first, my inability to control my bladder or the way I can feel my uterus around my bellybutton?”

Bellamy’s phone, located in the pocket opposite his napkin list, vibrated, and he reached in and pulled it out as Dr. Jackson talked to Clarke about what she could expect her bladder to be like for the next couple weeks. He saw that he had a text from Raven, and he didn’t like what it said. In fact . . . he _really didn’t_ like it. It was the kind of text that made him tense up, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he knew he couldn’t just sit there and ignore it. At the same time, though, he didn’t want to get Clarke worked up about anything, so he said, “Hey, I think Raven and Murphy are here. I’m gonna go see them,” and stood up.

“Okay,” she said. “They can come back after we’re all done here.”

“Yeah.” They’d do that. They’d come see the baby, their goddaughter. Harper and Miller and everyone else would come later. All their friends would. All the grandparents would be back, and so would Octavia. But for now . . . he had to go deal with something.

When he got out to the waiting room, he found Raven and Murphy engaged in a hushed conversation, one they both abruptly stopped having when he came towards them.

“Hey,” Raven said. “How is everyone?”

“Good,” he said. “You guys can go see her soon.”

Raven smiled. “I’m excited.”

“Yeah.” It was gonna be great. Everything . . . was gonna be great.

He glanced towards the big sliding door that looked out onto the parking lot, and he felt his stomach start to knot up. “So you said Finn’s here?” he said, his jaw clenched tight.

Raven sort of . . . grimaced, and Murphy nodded and confirmed, “Yeah, we saw him out in the parking lot.”

“Did he tell you guys he was coming?” Raven asked.

“No.” It pissed him off that the guy even had the audacity to show up, and he wished he hadn’t. Because everything was going well, and they had it all under control. No need to throw a wrench into the works. “I guess I’d better go deal with him,” he said, heading towards the door. He strode outside with as much confidence as he could muster, even though, inside, he was panicking. What if Finn insisted on seeing his daughter? What if he wanted to hold her?

Bellamy found the guy standing next to a motorcycle smoking a cigarette. He scoffed inwardly at that, because here he was driving around with a car seat in the back of his vehicle, and Finn now had a mode of transportation that wasn’t safe for any kid.

“What’re _you_ doing here?” he demanded, marching right up to Clarke’s ex.

Finn quickly threw his cigarette down on the ground and put it out with his shoe. “I heard,” he said. “So she had the baby?”

Bellamy didn’t even want to answer the question, but it wasn’t like it was something he could lie about or keep secret. “Yeah.”

Finn nodded wordlessly for a few seconds, then asked, “And everything’s good?”

_Do you care?_ Bellamy wondered. Or was he just here to act like he cared? “Yeah, they’re both fine,” he answered tersely. No need to go into detail about what Avery looked like, or how many pounds she weighed, or how many inches she measured.

“What’d she name her?” Finn questioned.

Bellamy didn’t exactly want to share that, either, but again, it wasn’t something confidential. “Avery,” he answered. And just to rub it in a bit, he decided to reveal her full name. “Avery Octavia Blake.”

If Finn was surprised to hear that last name, he did a pretty good job of hiding it. But Bellamy saw a flash of something in his eyes. Regret, maybe? Jealousy? Either way, he liked it. “It’s a pretty name,” Finn said. “And you said she’s fine? Like, there’s nothing wrong with her?”

“No.” So far, she was perfect, inside and out. “I was there when they ran all the tests.” And he was gonna be there for . . . everything else. All her newborn check-ups. Her first steps, her first words. Her first day of preschool, and everything else that would follow. He was gonna be there for it all, and Finn wasn’t.

“Can I see her?” Finn asked, more of a plea than a question. “I know you don’t want me to, but . . . please. That’s my daughter.”

Bellamy folded his arms—he had to, because otherwise he felt like he might just deck the guy—and fought to bite his tongue. “Clarke and I have it covered,” he said. “We don’t want visitors.”

“Then why did I see Raven and her boyfriend--”

“We don’t want _you_ to visit her,” he said, deciding to be very blunt about it. There was no reason for Finn to be here. The only link he had to Avery was a genetic one. Everything else was non-existent, and Bellamy wanted to keep it that way.

“Right,” Finn said sullenly. “Why am I not surprised? Can I at least see a picture of her?”

Bellamy already had pictures, plenty of them, on his phone, and it would have been easy to show Finn just one of them. But he felt like, if he gave the guy an inch, he’d take a mile. He’d probably already made that mistake months ago at the gender reveal party by letting him know it was a girl. But now that Avery was actually here, in the flesh, he felt no desire to include her biological father in anything. He was a loser who’d never wanted to help raise her. So he didn’t deserve to see a picture.

“I gotta get back in there,” Bellamy said. “You should leave.” He made sure to glare at Finn before he turned and headed back inside, because he knew he could look pretty damn intimidating if he tried, and he wanted to make sure the guy did actually drive out of that parking lot. Because he didn’t want to waste time dealing with him out here. No, he wanted to be back with his family. Back where he belonged.

****

_Bellamy stepped into formation behind his center, crouched down, and called a fast snap. “Set . . . hike!” The center snapped the ball back to him, and it was a perfect snap. And within an instant, Bellamy gauged that there was a perfect route right in front of him to take off. So he did. He ran far enough and fast enough to get the first down, then slid to the turf to avoid getting tackled. No need to risk injury during a pre-season practice._

_“And that’s a first down,” Coach Lightbourne growled angrily. “Is that the game we’re playing now, just letting our opponents move the ball on us?”_

_Nobody responded, least of all the defensive guys that had been getting their asses handed to them the entire practice._

_“Run it again!” the coach ordered._

_Bellamy got back into formation and once again called the same snap. “Set . . . hike!” This time, to their credit, the defense didn’t allow the same gap to form. But his offensive line held together pretty well, and he only had to dance around in the pocket for a few seconds before one of his receivers got open down the field. He tossed the ball, and the receiver trotted into the end zone for what would have been an easy touchdown in an actual game._

_“And now we don’t have any coverage downfield,” Coach Lightbourne lamented. “That’s great, guys. Really.”_

_The shoulders of all the defensive guys slumped. They looked demoralized and defeated, but Bellamy actually felt pretty energized. His role as the backup quarterback was pretty much to head the offensive practice squad. But the practice squad, all these second-stringers, were kicking the ass of the first string defense. And it felt good._

_“We’re gonna drill you guys tomorrow,” Coach Lightbourne said, almost as a warning. He checked the time on his watch, shook his head, and motioned them off the field. “Head on in.”_

_The guys all knew well enough to be silent as they headed off the field and into the locker room. Any kind of conversation after a pathetic practice like this would result in them getting lectured. Their coach was definitely stern, but Bellamy didn’t mind. Not if it got results. Victories. Some recognition on a national stage. All those things bettered his chances of making it to the NFL someday. Even if it was as a running back instead of a quarterback—no pro teams were going to think he was tall enough to play quarterback—he wanted to try to make it there._

_“Bellamy.”_

_He stopped and spun around when his coach said his name. “Yeah?”_

_Coach Lightbourne moved towards him, with his usual unreadable expression on his face. Bellamy didn’t know the guy well enough yet to know whether he was going to compliment him or chew him out. But it turned out to be the former. “You’re doing a good job out there,” his coach told him._

_Yeah, he knew that. He felt it. But it was still nice to hear it. “Good enough to be the starter?” he asked hopefully._

_Coach Lightbourne smirked. “Not yet. But you’re well on your way. You might even give Brady some competition next year.”_

_Next year . . . sort of felt like a ways off. But Bellamy knew he’d hardly be the first college quarterback to wait his turn. When the time came, he was going to step up and really make an impact, just like he had back in high school. “I plan to,” he vowed._

_“Good,” his coach said. “Now go shower off. You stink.”_

_Bellamy chuckled and headed off after his teammates again, but once again, Coach Lightbourne said something that made him stop and turn back around._

_“I’m glad you chose UCF, Bellamy. I think this is where you belong.”_

_Bellamy let that sink in for a minute, eventually nodding. That was nice to hear, too. Because in some ways, he really believed that. He was living up to that athletic scholarship he’d been granted. He was doing what people expected him to do. But on the other hand . . . sometimes he missed being home, too. He missed quarterbacking his high school team and playing with his friends. He missed the small-town feel of Arkadia. He missed his family. And Clarke. He really missed her._

****

Bellamy took about ten minutes to cool off after confronting Finn. He didn’t want to be worked up around Clarke or the baby, so he found the nearest bathroom, went in there to splash some water on his face, and just sat down on the floor and rewound the whole conversation in his mind. Had he done the right thing just now? Said the right thing?

When he felt calmer, he returned to the hospital room that had been home for the past couple of days, only to find Raven and Murphy in there now instead of Dr. Jackson. Raven was holding Avery, walking around the room with her, and Clarke had a tray of food on top of her lap.

“Oh, she got hungry, huh?” Bellamy said.

“Yes, she did,” Clarke answered unabashedly. She shoveled a heaping spoonful of Jell-o into her mouth and moaned as though it were the best tasting thing ever.

“Bellamy . . .” Raven said, holding Avery up to her shoulder so she could gently pat her back. “I’m obsessed with her already. She’s so cute.”

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed. She had blonde hair, like Clarke, and blue eyes, like Clarke. So that was good. Weren’t most babies born with blue eyes, though? Hopefully hers would stay blue. He liked the thought of her being a mini-version of her mother.

“Murphy, this is our goddaughter,” Raven said. “You wanna hold her?”

Murphy seemed nervous when he responded, “I’m not really good with babies.” But Raven completely ignored him and handed Avery over anyway. “Oh, there we go,” he said. After a few unsure seconds, he smiled and said, “Hey, this isn’t so bad.”

Raven whipped out her phone, then, and started recording.

“No, what’re you doin’?” Murphy grumbled. “I’m behind the camera, not in front of it.”

“I think it’s time you get a taste of your own medicine,” she said.

Murphy rolled his eyes and reluctantly played along. “Hi, I’m Murphy,” he said. “This is Avery.”

“Avery Octavia Blake,” Clarke piped up in between bites of food.

“Blake.” Murphy shot Bellamy a pointed look. “Nice.”

_Very nice_ , he thought. Avery’s last name was . . . a relief, quite honestly.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” Murphy said, looking awkwardly at the camera.

“Here, switch.” Raven swapped her phone with the baby and said, “Film me with my adorable niece.”

Bellamy went over to Clarke’s bed and sat down on the side of it, helping himself to a few of her French fires, because he was starving, too. “I have a feeling this is how it’s gonna be from now on,” he said. “We show up somewhere, and no one’s really that excited to see us. They just wanna see the baby.”

“Yeah. That’s okay, though,” she said. She finished off her Jell-o, set that bowl aside, then asked him, “Where were you?”

Instead of answering right away, he stalled by acting confused. “What do you mean?”

“You said you went to get Raven and Murphy,” she reminded him, “but then they came back here without you.”

_Because I was dealing with Finn_ , he thought, but instead, he just said, “Oh.” He thought about telling her the truth, but he didn’t want to upset her. So he told a variation of it instead. “Bathroom.”

She nodded, seeming to have no problem accepting that, and returned to her meal. But suddenly, he didn’t feel so hungry anymore. In fact, his stomach sort of . . . clenched. Because he felt like he should have told her Finn had been there. Now maybe it was too late.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’d been a day full of visitors, that was for sure. After Murphy and Raven came Harper and Monty. Harper claimed Avery was going to be a dancer, because she had lively feet. Whatever the hell that meant. And Monty brought her a stuffed animal from the gift shop. Her first present, and just one more toy to add to the already massive collection that awaited her back home.

Miller and Jasper showed up next, followed shortly by Lexa. The boys left when it was time for a feeding, but Lexa was less freaked out by it, so she stayed. After that, Aurora and Octavia returned with Lincoln, who looked like the biggest teddy bear in the world holding such a little baby. They left when Avery went to sleep, but there was no time for Clarke to sleep, because her parents and Kane and Alyssa came and visited for a while.

Eventually, it was only her mom who remained. Bellamy finally fell asleep on the couch, his back towards them, and Clarke made sure to hold Avery, just so that she wouldn’t start crying, so that if she needed to be fed, she could get on that quickly without her making any noise. Bellamy needed to rest. She, on the other hand, felt more rested than she had in days, and less sore, too, so she walked around the room with her daughter, just proud to carry her.

“Clarke, honey, why don’t you just lie down?” her mom suggested.

“No, I need to get up and move around,” she said. That hospital bed was no substitute for her bed at home, and she didn’t like feeling confined to it. Casting a glance at poor Bellamy, she wondered how sore he was going to be when he woke up tomorrow after sleeping on a couch that wasn’t big enough for him. “He’s so tired,” she said.

“That’s a long time to go without any sleep,” her mom said.

“Yeah, I think he was starting to get delirious. He was asking me about the cat.” She made a face. “We don’t own a cat.”

Her mom smiled and laughed a bit. There were bags under her eyes, too, a sure sign of her own exhaustion. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m good,” Clarke answered. “Now that I got some rest, I feel like I can’t sleep.”

“Adrenaline rush.”

“Yeah.” Maybe that was it. “I kinda feel like I could . . . take on the whole world. Is that weird?”

“No, not at all,” her mom said. “You had a baby. You just proved to yourself that you can do anything.”

“Well, maybe not _anything_ ,” she acknowledged. “But I’d do anything for her.” She’d read about this, how some women felt like superwoman after delivery. It was a nice feeling, even if it wouldn’t last forever. She wondered if her mom had felt that way after giving birth to her, or if Aurora had felt that way after giving birth to Bellamy. Maybe not, because she’d been so young at the time. Young like Clarke had been back when she’d gotten pregnant for the first time.

“Mom?” she said quietly. “Is this okay?”

Her mom looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

Clarke wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but she still felt the need to hear that this was all okay. “Well, I know you wanted me to be a doctor and follow in your footsteps, but . . . here I am,” she said. “Not that I need your approval or anything. It’d just be nice to know you’re not disappointed.”

“Oh, Clarke . . .” Her mom took on an unusually soft tone when she said, “I love my job. But being your mother is the most important, worthwhile job I’ll ever have. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

Clarke looked down at the baby girl in her arms and said, “Yeah. I do now.” The future didn’t seem so uncertain anymore, because her daughter _was_ her future. Everything would be for her. “I think things between us—you know, all of us—can be better now,” she said. “No more secrets, no more tension. Bellamy’s giving our family a second chance, and . . . well, you see how much he loves Avery.”

Her mother nodded and said, “He’ll be a good father.”

“Yeah.” _The best_ , she thought. Bellamy was made for this. “I think she recognizes his voice already,” she said. “Whenever he talks to her, she just looks right up at him. And she tries to grab his finger a lot. It’s like . . .” She smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness that may or may not have been a side effect of her adrenaline rush. And it felt damn good. “She knows he’s her dad,” she finished up, glad that Avery could recognize love even in her earliest stage of life. Love was what was going to determine her family, not biology.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One coo from Avery had been enough to wake Bellamy up. And now as he lay there, listening to Clarke and her mom talk about him, he couldn’t get back to sleep. They were saying good things, but he couldn’t help but feel uneasy about them. Because what if they weren’t true? What if Avery knew or just sensed something more about him, that he she wasn’t half of him? Maybe it was too soon for that right now, but someday down the line . . . how were they going to tell her about Finn? What would she think of it?

He waited until her mom had left to turn over onto his back and sit up.

“Hey, you can keep sleeping if you want,” Clarke said as she sat back down on her bed, Avery still in her arms. “She’s good right now.”

“It’s alright,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m used to only sleeping for a few hours at a time.”

“Why?” she said. “Because of my bladder?”

“Yep.” He sat down on the bed, reaching out to touch Avery’s head. She had these little wispy hairs, and she was so soft.

“It’s gonna get better,” Clarke promised. “At some point, I’ll stop peeing so much.”

He smiled a bit, but it didn’t last long. There had been too much on his mind all day, and he couldn’t prolong talking about it any longer. Keeping something from her, something important, was wearing on him. He couldn’t do it anymore. “I need to tell you something,” he said, ashamed that he’d kept it a secret all day. He shouldn’t have. “Finn was here earlier,” he revealed to her. “When Raven and Murphy were in here with you, I was out in the parking lot with him.”

Clarke tensed, but she didn’t say anything.

He cast a quick glance at Avery, whose eyes were shut. She hadn’t reacted at all to Finn’s name, which was oddly, if irrationally, comforting. “He wanted to come see her,” he said, “but I told him to go away.” Whether that had been the right response or not, he still didn’t know, but he _really_ hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with him tomorrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he apologized. “I just . . . I was worried.”

“Why?” Clarke asked.

“Because . . .” It was hard to explain to anyone who _wasn’t_ him, but he was willing to try. “What if she takes one look at him and knows him? Or loves him? More than she loves me.”

“Bellamy . . .” Clarke reached out to touch his arm. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not . . . it’s not stupid.” She sat up a bit straighter, moving closer to him. “But you can talk to me about this stuff,” she said. “Trust me, keeping it inside . . . it’ll just eat away at you.”

There was definitely a segue there, one he could have taken, especially since they hadn’t talked about her previous pregnancy since he’d first shown up at the hospital. But those conversations would come later. This wasn’t the time or place for them. “I should’ve told you he was here,” he said. “I should’ve let you make the decision.”

“No,” she said. “I trust you. You’re her father. You can make decisions for her, too.”

He let out a shaky sigh, still not sure if he’d made the right one. It felt right, but what if it was wrong? Was this the kind of thing parents felt on a daily basis? Did they question everything? Or was it different for him because he wasn’t a biological parent? Was he gonna have to question things more than a regular dad would have?

Coalescing his many questions all into one, he asked her, “Did I do the right thing?” and hoped for an honest response.

“Yes,” she said without even hesitating. “He’s not part of this. He _chose_ not to be part of it. He shouldn’t just get to show up and act like this is some huge deal in his life when we all know it’s not. Even if you’d asked me about it, I would’ve told you to make him leave.”

He nodded slowly, finding comfort in her reassurance. But there was something else that would comfort him, too, _someone_ else. “Can I hold her?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Clarke handed Avery over, and just feeling her in his hands . . . so little and innocent and in need of protecting . . . it made him feel like he had a purpose in life. A clearer, more important purpose than he’d ever had before.

“I wanna be her hero, Clarke,” he blurted. And he meant that. No matter what it entailed or required of him, he wanted to be that person to her.

“I’m sure you will be,” she said softly, and that was reassuring, too.


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68

The last day at the hospital was nerve-racking for Clarke. Mostly because she was so afraid of screwing something up when she took Avery home. The hospital was the ultimate safe space for a baby, and she was surrounded by people there who knew exactly what they were doing. At home, it’d be all on her and Bellamy.

They spent the majority of their last morning there talking to everyone they could—Dr. Jackson, the nurses, and the pediatrician, who did one last check on Avery before proclaiming her “good to go.” They did a diaper change in front of one of the nurses, just to get her feedback, and she exaggerated their abilities when she said they were practically pros. She then proceeded to remind them that they’d get lots more practice at home, because they’d be changing at least four wet diapers a day, and one or more poopy ones.

Pooping was definitely going to be a big pastime for Avery, along with sleeping and eating and crying. So far, the crying hadn’t been too incessant, but Dr. Jackson did remind them that crying was the only way babies could communicate that they wanted something, so they shouldn’t be surprised if she cried a lot, or if they sometimes weren’t even able to calm her down. Clarke hated the thought of that. She wanted to be the kind of mom who always knew what to do to make her baby feel better.

Part of taking Avery home from the hospital involved dressing her in actual clothes for the first time. Clarke had picked out an outfit months in advance—a cute pair of pink pants and a white shirt that said _Hello, World_ on it. She put some socks on her, too, just in case her feet were cold. Bellamy snapped several pictures of the two of them, of course, before he took all their bags out to the car. Her mom came into the room to see how she was doing, and Clarke asked for her opinion on the ensemble. “Do you think this outfit’s fine?” She wasn’t always so eager to hear her mother’s opinion on things, but in this instance . . . yes.

“Yeah,” her mom replied. “It’s cute.”

“No, I mean, do you think it’s warm enough?” Clarke clarified. “Or cool enough? What even is the temperature outside? I have no idea.”

Her mom smiled and laughed a little. “This will be fine,” she assured her. “Whatever you’d be comfortable in, she’ll be comfortable in.”

“Okay.” She would have been comfortable in shorts and a shirt, right? Right? “But one of the nurses said an extra layer’s not a bad idea,” she recalled, second-guessing the shorts. Maybe pants were better.

“When it’s chilly outside, sure,” her mom said. “But it’s not. It’s a beautiful day. Perfect day to bring her home.”

Clarke picked Avery up out of the crib, wondering if she’d be able to tell the difference between a hospital crib and her own crib, this room and the room that Bellamy had put together just for her. “I’m nervous,” she admitted, holding her baby girl close. “And excited. It’s weird. I just don’t wanna screw anything up.”

“I think you’ve been doing well so far,” her mom said. “You and Bellamy both.”

_Me and Bellamy_ , Clarke thought, smiling softly. Thank God it was back to being her and Bellamy, because without him, she probably would have been way more worried about how she was going to handle all of this. “I told him he can’t drive over twenty miles per hour the whole way home,” she said. “Just to be safe.”

“She’ll be in a car seat,” her mom reminded her.

“I know. But still . . .” Twenty just seemed like a reasonable speed limit with an infant in the car. “God, now I understand why you didn’t let me get behind the wheel until high school,” she said, empathizing. “Or go in the deep end of the pool when you weren’t watching. Or ride my bike anywhere besides around the block. There’s a lot of scary stuff out there for kids.”

“Hmm, and at the time, you thought I was being overprotective.” Her mom smirked.

“I kind of get it now,” she admitted. This little girl was the single greatest human being in the world, and it was her responsibility to make sure she was safe. Always.

Bellamy returned to the room, keys in hand, and announced, “Car’s out front. You ready?”

She let out a shaky breath and said, “Yeah,” before looking around the room one last time to make sure they hadn’t left anything. It felt like it’d been a long time since she’d even left that room. Yesterday, she’d walked the halls a bit, but nothing major. “Wait, did we ask all our questions?” she asked fretfully. “We did, didn’t we?”

“Yep,” Bellamy said as he came into the room.

“But what if we have more?” Google was a wealth of misinformation, and conflicting facts and statistics.

“Your mom’s a doctor,” he pointed out, carefully taking Avery from her.

“Right. Okay,” she said, taking a moment to drill that into her brain. _Mom’s a doctor. Mom’s a doctor_. If anything went wrong or seemed strange in any way, she could just call her up and get her expert opinion.

It must have been her mom’s ‘expert opinion’ that the distance from this hospital room to the car was going to be too far for her, because she went out into the hallway for a few seconds, then returned with a large, black wheelchair, the kind that folded open and shut. “I don’t need a wheelchair,” Clarke told her. “I can walk.”

“It’s the policy,” her mom said.

“What? Why?”

“Because until you’re out the door, you’re this hospital’s responsibility,” her mom explained. “Legal liability stuff.”

“But I’ve _been_ walking,” Clarke protested. Besides, what was the likelihood that she’d slip and fall on her way out the door?

“Nobody ever said healthcare makes sense.” Her mother motioned towards the seat.

“Just sit down and enjoy the ride,” Bellamy told her.

She groaned, rolled her eyes, and reluctantly took a seat in the wheelchair. He handed Avery back to her, then stepped behind the chair and rolled her on out of the room. Her mom followed behind them, and Clarke had to admit . . . being pushed by Bellamy _was_ faster than walking out of there on her own would be. She could move, but she had to take small steps because of her soreness.

Her dad, Kane, and Alyssa had all returned, and Bellamy’s mom was there, too, to see them off. She was wearing her uniform from the hotel, so Clarke took that to mean she was either headed to work right after this or she’d come here over her lunch break. Either way, it was pretty nice of her to be there, for all of them to be there.

Out at the car, Bellamy took the lead on getting Avery fastened into her rear-facing car seat. It took up a lot of space in his backseat, but that was because it was the convertible kind that would last into Avery’s childhood, as well.

“Alright, I think she’s good,” he proclaimed.

“Dad, can you check, just to be sure?” Clarke asked her father. Not that she didn’t trust Bellamy’s opinion, but he was new at this just like she was.

Her father stretched across the backseat, gave the car seat a few tugs, and it didn’t move out of place. “Feels sturdy,” he said.

“Okay.” Now that they were actually out at the car, the thought of driving home was filling Clarke with something very akin to dread. Thank God they were just in Arkadia, not a busy city where accidents happened all the time. “I’ll ride back here with her,” she decided. She almost sat right down until she remembered that she had family members who deserved a proper goodbye and expression of gratitude for being there. “Thanks, you guys, for being here,” she said.

“Of course,” her mom said. “It’s a big day.”

“A good day,” Aurora added.

Clarke looked up at her, curious as to what it had been like for her when she’d taken Bellamy home. Had anyone been there to support her, to check her car seat and make sure it was sturdy, or to make sure she sat in a wheelchair on her way out the door? She’d always respected the woman, but now, imagining her going through all of this on her own . . . she respected her even more.

“I hope you don’t mind if we kind of . . . limit visitors for a while,” she said to all of them. She and Bellamy had discussed it, and it definitely seemed best to keep this first week home pretty low-key.

“We understand,” Kane said.

“It’s just that--”

“You don’t have to explain, Clarke,” her father assured her. “We understand. Besides, Alyssa and I have to be heading home anyway.”

“But we’ll come visit when you’re . . . ready for visitors,” Alyssa added.

“Okay.” That sounded . . . like a plan. A non-overwhelming one. “Thanks.”

A few hugs and kisses later, she sat down in the backseat, and Bellamy shut the door and walked around to the front. When he got into the car, he looked back at her and asked, “You ready to go home?”

She smiled at him, feeling . . . as ready as she’d ever be. As nerve-racking as it all was, she couldn’t wait to be back in her own house, back in her own bed. Back out at the beach with the two most important people in the world to her. Just the three of them.

Clarke didn’t even bother to look out the window on the drive home. Her attention was completely focused on the baby, on the way her body still sort of curled up, as if she were back in the womb, and on the way she yawned. Clarke hadn’t expected her to yawn yet. For some reason, watching her do that felt as amazing as anything she’d ever seen.

“You’re still going the speed limit, right?” she asked Bellamy when it seemed as if they were picking up speed a bit.

“I’m going _our_ speed limit,” he reassured her.

“Good.” A car whipped pass them, and she said, “Yeah, go ahead and pass us. We don’t care,” as if they could hear her. People probably wondered why they were going so slow, but surely they’d understand if they knew what precious cargo they had in this car seat. “Aww, Bellamy, you should see her right now,” she said as Avery’s eyes started to close. “She’s getting sleepy.”

“No, keep her awake,” he said. “We don’t want her to sleep until we get home.”

“She’s gonna sleep when she wants to,” Clarke said. “And _we’re_ gonna sleep when she wants to.”

“Sixteen to seventeen hours a day, right?”

“Yeah. But in spurts. She’s gonna keep us hoppin’.” Luckily, her impatient pregnancy bladder meant that she was used to only getting a few hours of rest at a time, so hopefully this wouldn’t be too big of an adjustment.

“I’m glad I was able to get the week off,” Bellamy said.

“Me, too.” She wished it was more, but paternity leave wasn’t so much of a thing as maternity leave was. “It’ll be so much easier with both of us taking care of her.”

“And I get to take care of you, too,” he said.

She looked away from Avery long enough to glance up at him. “You _get_ to?” she said. “Don’t you mean you _have_ to?”

“No, I get to.” He met her eyes through the rearview mirror, just for a second before returning them to the road.

_God_ , she thought, feeling as amazed by him as she was by Avery. Most girls longed for this kind of guy their whole lives, and yet she’d found one in the tenth grade. “I love you a lot, Bellamy,” she said, feeling like she’d be saying that a lot now that she was getting a second—or technically _third_ —chance with him.

“I love you, too,” he said, once again glancing back at her in the mirror.

But a lot of other people wouldn’t have after what she’d done, after what she’d kept a secret. And that was what made his love even more special. Remarkable, really. She felt so damn lucky.

Since they were going at such slow speeds, it took a lot longer to get home than it normally would have. What was typically a ten minute drive took twice as much time, and then getting Avery unhooked from her car seat took even more time. There were so many straps and hooks, which Clarke was eternally grateful for. Because even in-town roads could be dangerous.

Someone had taken it upon themselves to put a big “ _It’s a Girl!_ ” display in front of the house, complete with pink balloons and streamers attached, none of which was particularly friendly for the environment but all of which was adorable. “Who did all this?” she asked.

“Raven and Harper, I think.”

Yeah, that definitely looked like Raven’s handwriting on the sign. “Get a picture,” she told Bellamy, posing with Avery next to the sign.

Bellamy set her bags down, backed up a bit, and whipped out his phone to snap the picture. In the past couple days, he’d probably taken more pictures than he ever had in his life. They were going to have to get more storage on his phone or something. Hers, too. And she’d already decided that they were getting print copies of all these photos. She was going to make a scrapbook, so that way Avery would be able to look back at it someday when she was older, just like Bellamy and Octavia sometimes looked at their family’s old photo albums.

Walking in the door felt . . . momentous, and Clarke exclaimed, “Welcome home, Avery Blake!” hoping for some sort of reaction. A happy smile. A giggle or a gurgle. Anything. But Avery was on her own schedule, eyes completely closed. “Yeah, she’s totally sleeping,” she said.

“So we’ve probably got an hour or two to just relax,” Bellamy said.

“Probably.” It didn’t sound like much because . . . well, it wasn’t.

“Alright, you do that,” he said, closing the front door. “I’m gonna go put some of this stuff away.” He grabbed her hospital bag, which looked a lot fuller than it had when her dad had retrieved it for her—stuffed animals from the gift shop, most likely, gifted to Avery by her friends—and started up the stairs.

“Sorry I’m not much help,” she called after him, shuffling towards the couch.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She sat down with Avery, content to just hold her. She didn’t need any background noise like the TV or even music. She felt like she could just sit with her daughter in silence for the entire hour or two that she decided to sleep. She could just watch her. Because god, she was beautiful. Just a beautiful little girl with soft skin and thin wisps of blonde hair. And tiny eyelashes and a little button nose. Seeing her and holding her was such a range of emotions. Love and pride and an overwhelming urge to protect, most of all. But there was something else mixed in there, too, something most other mothers probably didn’t feel. Something she knew she was allowed to feel but still wished she didn’t.

Guilt.

****

_Although she wasn’t sure how it’d happened, Clarke’s back-to-school trip to Target took a turn when she stopped looking at highlighters, pencils, and binders and instead started looking at baby clothes. Somehow, she’d just meandered from one part of the store to the next._

 _For girls, there were lots of princess clothes._ Lots _of them._

_“What are you doing?”_

_She startled when her mom came up to her. “Nothing,” she said. “I was just . . . looking.”_

_Her mom grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the clothes. “You shouldn’t be doing that,” she whispered. “People could see.”_

_Would anyone really put two and two together yet, though? Clarke doubted it. But someday, they would. Someday, it’d be obvious. “Eventually, everyone’s gonna know,” she pointed out. “I’m gonna start showing.”_

_“Clarke . . .” Her mom stopped walking, held her hand up, and then clenched it into a fist, squeezing nothing but thin air. “Let’s not talk about this here,” she said tensely. And then she resumed walking again, so Clarke just sulked after her._

_They didn’t speak when they got in the car, a whole bunch of school supplies in the back seat that Clarke wasn’t even sure she’d get to use. She’d overheard her mom and dad talking last night about online classes. Apparently they thought going to high school while pregnant was going to be too hard on her. Either that or too scandalous._

_The car ride to the store had been mostly silent, and Clarke didn’t want to the ride home to be an exact repeat of that. So she blurted out something that had been on her mind for the past couple of days: “I think I’m gonna tell Raven.”_

_Her mom’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Why?” she asked._

_“Because she’s my best friend,” Clarke said, not sure that she really needed any other reason. “Because I need somebody to talk to.”_

_“You can talk to me,” her mom offered._

_“Somebody my own age.” Talking to her mother about all of this was stressful. Maybe talking to her best friend would be . . . therapeutic._

_“Well, Raven’s never been pregnant before,” her mom pointed out. “She doesn’t know what it’s like. She’s not gonna be able to give you any advice.”_

_“Yeah, but . . . she’d listen.”_

_Her mother let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “I don’t think you should tell her yet,” she said._

_“Why not?” Clarke asked._

_“Because . . . then it’ll get around to everyone.”_

_“Raven can keep it a secret,” Clarke insisted. “I trust her.”_

_“But what if she tells her boyfriend?” her mom said. “And then her boyfriend lets something slip to Bellamy? You don’t want him finding out that way, do you?”_

_Clarke frowned. “No.” Of course she didn’t want that. If_ —when _Bellamy found out, it had to be from her. She really didn’t think Raven would tell Zeke, not if she begged her not to. But . . . they_ were _close, and they didn’t keep secrets from each other. So she supposed it was possible, and if Zeke knew, then he might drop a hint to Bellamy, maybe just unintentionally. He was Bellamy’s friend more than he was hers, after all._

_“So we should just keep it in our family for now,” her mom decided. “It’s no one else’s business.”_

_Even though Clarke knew it was ultimately up to her to decide whose business it was and wasn’t, she felt powerless to combat her mother’s decision on the matter. In fact, she just felt pretty powerless in general, like her life was swirling all around her, lifting her up and hurling her in all directions like a hurricane._

_Silence descended over the two of them once again for the rest of the drive home. But when they actually walked inside, Clarke found her voice again. First she dumped her school supplies on the couch, then she went back to the kitchen counter and sat down while her mom started to make lunch. “You know, the other night, I heard you and Dad talking,” she said. “Fighting. And I heard you say I’m not ready to be a mom.”_

_Her mother stopped for a bit, hand on the refrigerator door, and halfway looked back over her shoulder. “You’re too young,” she said simply before resuming the task at hand. Which appeared to be sandwiches, since she pulled turkey and cheese slices out of the fridge._

_“I know,” Clarke acknowledged. “But I can_ get _ready. If I have to do this . . . then I can.”_

_Setting the sandwich supplies down on the cutting board, her mom stopped what she was doing for a moment, gripped the edge of the counter, and quietly mumbled, “Well, that’s just it, Clarke: You_ don’t _have to do this. You have options.”_

Options? _Clarke thought, mulling over the word. Logically, she’d always known that, but the fact that they hadn’t yet discussed them had pretty much made her think they didn’t exist. “What, like adoption?” she said._

_Her mom didn’t answer._

_“Raven was adopted,” she said. “But not every kid is.” That was what was so scary about that. Sure, it could go well, and her baby could end up with a loving father like Raven had, or a loving mother, or, best case scenario, two loving parents. But it could also end up in foster care, bouncing around from one home to the next without ever having a true family. “I don’t know if I could . . .” She touched her stomach, feeling a surge of protectiveness for something that didn’t even really exist yet. Her baby was more of a fetus at this point, didn’t even look completely human if all the drawings online were to be believed. But it was going to grow and become a baby, and she wasn’t sure she could picture herself giving a baby up. And she_ definitely _couldn’t picture Bellamy doing that. “I don’t know,” she repeated, not about to rule out the idea entirely, even though it seemed far-fetched. “I mean, it’s a great thing when it works out, but . . . I don’t know.”_

_Her mom didn’t turn around, didn’t even look at her, when she lowered her head and muttered, “Well, that’s not your only other option.”_

_Clarke’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?” She couldn’t very well just give the baby to Bellamy and not be a part of its life. That wasn’t fair._

_Slowly, her mother turned around, a tired, forlorn look on her face. “Do you really want me to say it?”_

_Clarke just stared at her, and by not saying anything . . . that said it all. “No,” she whispered, horrified as the realization of what her mother was suggesting finally dawned on her. “No, don’t.” That_ wasn’t _an option._

_“Clarke--”_

_“Mom . . .” She tried to say more, but words escaped her. So she just shook her head wordlessly as horrific thoughts filled her mind. Thoughts of what it would be like to have an abortion and have this whole problem go away. Except it wasn’t just a_ problem, _was it? She felt awful for even thinking of it that way. “I can’t . . . I can’t do that,” she stuttered. “You don’t want me to.” She waited a few seconds for some kind of confirmation of that fact, for her mom to assure her that mentioning this particular option was just a formality or something. But that never happened. “Right?” she whimpered as her fingers started to tremble with fear._

_Her mom’s eyes filled with tears, but only momentarily. Then she gulped, blinked them back, and calmly declared, “I don’t think we should rule it out.”_

What? _Clarke thought, panicked. Was this even real? Were they seriously having this conversation?_

_Apparently they weren’t, at least not fully, because her mom turned back around and got right back to work making lunch. Saying nothing else. Even though now, neither one of them could think about anything else. Now that her mom had vocalized it, it was out there, this option that Clarke had deliberately forced herself not to think about or even consider this whole time But now that it existed, dangling invisibly in the atmosphere, she wasn’t sure how to get it out of her mind._

****

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, waiting until she was sure the tears were gone to open them again and look down at the perfect little person in her arms. Her first baby had never gotten to the point of having eyelashes and fingernails and hairs on the top of her head. Or his. Maybe it would’ve been a boy.

“I love you, sweetie,” she whispered, hoping that she could at least _try_ to make up for the past by being the best mom that she could be now. She’d pretty much anticipated that her emotions would be all over the map after giving birth, and they definitely were. She wasn’t going to let anyone tell her how to feel, though. Between the past and the present, she had a lot of conflicting internal stuff going on. And that was okay.

Bellamy must have made quick work of unpacking her hospital bag, because he came back downstairs in what seemed like no time at all. Or maybe it had taken longer than she’d realized, and she’d just been too absorbed in Avery to notice. “You think we should put her down in her crib?” he asked.

“Oh . . . probably,” Clarke said. “She needs to get used to it.” She handed the baby over to him, even though she would have been perfectly content to just keep holding her. For a while. Forever.

“You stay here,” Bellamy told her as he headed upstairs with Avery.

She felt like such a lump on a log just sitting there on the couch by herself without her little girl. She couldn’t help Bellamy unpack, and with these stupid stair restrictions, she couldn’t even put her own daughter down to sleep. So what could she do? She didn’t want to be useless for the entire week.

Wincing, she stood up, ignoring the slight ache between her legs and in her lower abdomen. It wasn’t super painful, but it was still enough for her to notice. Still, she made her way over to the stairs, looked up towards the top, and decided not to be intimidated by them. Even though it seemed like there were a lot more of them than she remembered. “Bellamy, I’m coming up!” she announced. She stepped onto the first stair, and that felt fine, until she put all her weigh on that foot as she tried to step up to the next one. That pulled a little. This was definitely going to be a slow climb.

Bellamy came to the top of the stairs when she’d only accomplished three of them and disapprovingly asked her, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m coming up,” she said as he practically ran down to where she was. “I really—I feel like I’m fine with the stairs.”

“Dr. Jackson told you to avoid ‘em,” he reminded her.

“Actually, he told me to limit them,” she said, holding onto the railing tightly. “We have a two story house. It’s not practical.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here to sweep you off your feet.” He bent down low enough for her to grab hold of him and put one arm around her lower back, the other under her knees. “Got it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, giving in to his assistance as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her up slowly and carefully, and he carried her upstairs with ease. “Okay, this is kind of nice,” she admitted. Not only did it alleviate any physical pressure from her body, it also made her feel good that he was even _able_ to carry her again. It’d been a while.

“You wanna lie down?” he asked her.

“No, I wanna see her.”

He headed in the direction of the nursery, which was pretty dark since he’d pull the curtains shut. He set her down and turned on the light, though, so she could get a good look at Avery in her crib. She looked cozy, or as cozy as anyone could be with no blankets or pillows. Part of Clarke wanted to change her out of those clothes and into some pajamas, but she supposed it didn’t really matter very much. Avery was gonna sleep no matter what she was wearing

“This is perfect,” she said. “I feel like I could just stand here and watch her for hours.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “But we can’t.” He held up his phone, upon which they’d installed a baby monitor app that provided not only sound but video, too, from a little camera perched on the end of Avery’s crib. Clarke had it on her phone, too, and planned on watching it incessantly. “We’ve got this,” Bellamy assured her. “We can’t be paranoid.”

“I wanna be paranoid, though,” she whined.

“I know,” he said. “But we can’t hover around her every second of every day.”

She sighed, taking a few more seconds to watch the little girl sleep. She lay still on her back, probably couldn’t have turned over yet if she tried. And if she did, they’d see it on the monitor, and one of them—probably Bellamy—would rush in there to put her on her back again. But when he went back to work and she was home alone, even if she had to run up those stairs to get to her, she’d do it without hesitation.

“We’re not letting this out of our sight, though,” she said, pointing to his phone.

“Oh, hell no,” he agreed, putting his hand on the small her back to guide her towards the door.

“And let’s just leave this open,” she said, pushing the door all the way back against the wall. No reason for it to be closed. This way, if their app malfunctioned for some reason, they’d still hear her cry.

Clarke knew that, if they went into their bedroom, she’d probably just lie down and watch the monitor, analyze every movement and overthink everything. So she told Bellamy she wanted to go outside instead. Not far, of course, because . . . Avery. But far enough where she could feel like she wasn’t being quite so paranoid. They walked out onto the balcony, and Clarke was able to let a different feeling of contentedness wash over her as she looked out at the ocean and inhaled the salty-smelling air.

“Remember when you first came back,” she reminisced, “and we spent that night together?”

“Yep. Met up at the bar, ended up here.” He smirked. “Not gonna lie, that was kinda my plan.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” It hadn’t been her plan. In fact, none of this had been. “That was a good night,” she said, sort of in awe of how much had changed since then.

“Five years in the making,” he said. “Do you have any idea how nervous I was?”

“What? About . . . sex?” She found that hard to believe.

“Yeah. I mean, I know I got skills, but I wasn’t sure if my skills were still . . . the best you’d ever had,” he confessed.

“There’s no competition,” she assured him.

Slowly, he grinned and said, “Same.”

_You taught me everything I know_ , she thought. In fact, if things had gone differently and they’d decided to stay together when he’d gone to college, try to make the long-distance thing work, then she probably never would have slept with anyone else. But then Avery wouldn’t be inside in that nursery, so . . . she couldn’t completely regret the way things had turned out.

“I had no idea you had so much goin’ on at that point,” Bellamy went on. “How sure were you that you were pregnant?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Fifty/fifty. Maybe a little more than that. But being with you that night . . . it made me forget how scared I was. Everything just felt simple. Even though it wasn’t.”

He turned his whole body towards her, put his phone down on the railing, and said, “Remember how we were standing right out here?”

“Yeah. And you gave me that look,” she recalled. “Like the one you’re giving me now.” Bellamy Blake always knew how to absolutely personify that stupid heart eyes emoji. When he looked at her, it was pure love. “And then you kissed me,” she said, holding her breath for a moment as she thought back on it.

“How well do you remember that kiss?” he asked, moving a little closer.

“Pretty well,” she said.

“Can I refresh your memory anyway?”

She smiled at him, no need to answer, and closed her eyes as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was just a soft kiss, nothing too hot and heavy, but it was still enough to make her heart beat faster. And he didn’t stop at just one kiss. He drew it out, made it deeper, and pulled her whole body close to his. Without that huge baby bump in the way, she actually felt like they were able to stand close together again.

“And then we did a little more than kissing,” she whispered as their mouths parted.

“Yeah, we did.”

“But we can’t do that right now. So . . .” She trailed off, not quite sure how they were going to go weeks without . . . _really_ reconnecting, without being together in that way that had always come so naturally to them.

“That’s alright,” he said. “Kissing’s fine.” He leaned back in, once again covering her mouth with his. Bellamy was a great kisser, and she was ashamed to admit that, sometimes, in the midst of all the other stimulation he gave her, she overlooked that fact. But simply making out with him was just as good, if not better, than full-on sex with anyone else. So maybe this sexless recovery period wouldn’t be so difficult to endure after all. He’d still find ways to ravage her. With Avery’s wonky sleep schedule, finding the _time_ was probably going to be the bigger issue.

As their kissing began to intensify, Bellamy started to back her up towards the railing. She felt his phone bump against her back before falling right off the railing.

“Oh, shit,” he swore.

“Oh my god, Bellamy!” she yelped, looking down at the ground. Where even was it? In a bush?

“I didn’t mean to . . .” He trailed off helplessly.

“Go get it!” she yelped.

He ran back inside, and she stood looking down over the railing, waiting for him to appear out there. It only took him a few seconds to get down there and start looking around. He seemed to spot it right away but had to practically crawl into the bush to reach down and retrieve it.

“I got it,” he called up to her, holding it up for her to see. “Look it’s fine. Didn’t break, still works. Baby monitor app still works. We’re all good.”

“Thank God.” They needed that thing. It was _very_ important.

He brushed a couple of leaves off of it, looked up at her, and exclaimed, “We’re gonna be great parents!”

She laughed, hoping that was true. He was already pretty great, and she didn’t feel like she was doing such a bad job, either.


	69. Chapter 69

_Chapter 69_

The first twelve hours home with Avery were kind of an adrenaline rush, just because it was so new, and therefore exciting. But very early on, Clarke realized that they needed to try to establish a routine. As much of a routine as a newborn baby would adhere to, at least. Because without a routine, she and Bellamy were going to lose their minds.

Sleeping happened in spurts during that first week, because there was no other option. They woke up early, around 7:00, because that was when Avery tended to need her morning feeding. Clarke, still recovering, managed a short nap each day, but she was still exhausted by 8:00 at night. Both she and Bellamy fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow, but the slightest noise on the baby monitor was all it took to wake them up. A gurgle. A hiccup. Anything. The second they heard it, they both pulled themselves out of whatever temporary slumber they’d managed to find, got up, and headed into the nursery. Clarke tried telling Bellamy that he didn’t need to wake up with her, because usually Avery just needed to be fed, and obviously that was her job. But Bellamy didn’t want her to be the only one to have to wake up, didn’t want her to feel like she was having to do anything by herself. So he sat in the nursery with them, for twenty minutes, thirty minutes, forty-five . . . however long it took. Sometimes he’d just talk to them, or sometimes he read to them, because he wanted Avery to be exposed to a lot of words early on. He wanted her to be a reader. If there was something to be done around the house, like unwashed dishes in the sink or a load of laundry in the dryer that needed to be sorted, he’d sometimes go downstairs and do that, too. And he didn’t complain.

Breastfeeding every few hours meant that Clarke had plenty of opportunities to perfect her mommy station. That was what she was calling it, anyway. She liked to do it upstairs in the comfy rocking chair next to the crib, surrounded by pillows and covered by a thin blanket. Very early on, she realized that she’d always need to have burp cloths and cleaning wipes handy, because although her daughter had a pretty good latch, things still got messy from time to time. She also made sure she kept a water bottle on the table next to the rocking chair, because she’d read that staying hydrated was supposed to help produce more milk. There were also things she quickly realized she _wouldn’t_ need at her mommy station, though, her sketchbook being one of them. Avery definitely preferred the left breast, so that meant her drawing hand was occupied holding her daughter. Besides, the whole breastfeeding experience was kind of a nice way too bond, and Clarke wanted to be . . . present for it. She could draw on her own, but this was something for her and Avery to do together. For that reason, a speaker to listen to some relaxing music was the only entertainment she even bothered with. But even then, she still preferred listening to Bellamy’s voice when he read _Goodnight Moon_ or _Guess How Much I Love You_ to their daughter.

Towards the end of the first week, Avery surprised the hell out of both of them by sleeping for five hours straight. They both woke up after three of them, accustomed to the semi-regular intervals at that point, and they both freaked out when they looked at the baby monitor and saw her lying still. At first, Clarke thought something was wrong, so she told Bellamy to run in and check on her. Which he did. It took Clarke a little bit of effort to stand up, and even more effort to get into the nursery after him, but when she did, she saw that nothing was wrong. Avery was still breathing and sleeping just fine. Of course, they both got online to see if it was normal for a newborn to go that long without eating, and everything they found said a baby’s feeding schedule could fluctuate. But she still ended up calling her mom at 3:00 a.m. just to make sure that was true, and by the time they were finally calmed down and ready to go back to sleep, Avery was ready to wake up.

Physically, despite feeling like she never had quite as much energy as she would have liked, Clarke did feel better. But different. The soreness lingered—for the first few days, even just _sitting_ was painful—but gradually her low-down aches began to fade, to the point where she could pretty much just ignore them altogether. The stairs still weren’t fun, though, and unfortunately Bellamy wasn’t always able to carry her up and down them. He tried, but it just wasn’t feasible, so she did her best not to strain herself by taking them slowly and being extra careful. The last thing she needed to do was fall. She was still bleeding, but that was getting lighter as the days went by. By far the most welcomed physical change, however, was that her tummy was shrinking. Sure, there was still a pooch, but she’d expected that. She still felt kind of flabby, and her boobs felt massive and heavy. But other than that, she was actually starting to feel more like herself again.

The most notable changes, of course, weren’t physical. They were just the day-to-day domestics. Sometimes Clarke didn’t end up taking a shower until the afternoon, because mornings were devoted entirely to Avery. Bellamy roamed around the house shirtless and in sweatpants most of the time, and Clarke wasn’t sure whether that was because he just hadn’t found the time to get dressed or because he wanted a lot of that skin-to-skin contact with Avery to promote bonding. Whatever the reason for it was, she was enjoying it. Bellamy looked damn good in dad mode.

In contrast to himself, he always made sure Avery was dressed warmly, because whenever the air conditioner kicked on, he worried about her getting too cold. He liked to swaddle her in blankets and even deemed himself the “Swaddle Master” because he was able to wrap her up quickly. Of course, whenever she used her diaper, he had to completely undo all the swaddling so he could change her. And he did end up changing her a lot. And Clarke was more than happy to let him have at it, because those diapers smelled pretty bad.

Avery’s life definitely revolved around eating, pooping, and sleeping, and she was too young to do much playing. But that didn’t stop Bellamy from introducing her to the purple bunny he’d won for her at Kane’s carnival so many months ago. He made it dance in front of her and put it in her hands, and she loved it. Despite having no teeth, she liked to put the bunny’s ears into her mouth and try to chew them. By far her favorite amusement, though, was playing the smile game with her dad. That was what they were calling it. It wasn’t exactly peek-a-boo, because Bellamy never hid his face from her. He just sat down on the couch, feet up on the coffee table so he could cradle her in his lap, and he made faces at her. Sometimes just a smile, sometimes a goofy expression. Sometimes he’d stick his tongue out or make his eyes really wide. When he did any of those things, she’d smile up at him. She was too young to laugh, but she looked like she wanted to.

Clarke made sure to get a ton of pictures and videos, of course, because she knew Avery wouldn’t be this little for long. Some of her favorite moments to capture were when Bellamy was sitting on the couch or in the recliner doing the skin-to-skin contact thing with Avery while she rested. There he would be, asleep and snoring lightly, holding this tiny baby to his chest while she slept, too. Clarke sometimes got teary when she saw them together like that, because it was the sweetest thing she’d ever seen. Most of those pictures she kept to herself, but she did post some other stuff online to keep their friends in the loop with what’s going on, and she sent a few videos to Raven, Harper, and Octavia. Nobody seemed to be holding it against her and Bellamy that they’d decided to take this first week to themselves, but everyone did seem eager to see the baby again.

As self-reliant as they were trying to be, they did end up taking her mom up on an offer to go out and get them groceries for the next couple of weeks. And when Bellamy’s mom called him up towards the end of the week and said that she’d be willing to come over and cook them dinner on Mother’s Day, he didn’t hesitate to agree to it. They both figured that they didn’t have to be embarrassed about asking for help, or rather _accepting_ help when it was offered. Bringing a baby home from the hospital was quite the big deal, and even though they were both loving parenthood so far, it still took a lot out of them. Bellamy ended up helping his mom with the meal, though, because he didn’t feel right about her slaving away in the kitchen on a holiday that was meant for her, too.

Avery did have her first return to the hospital for a doctor’s appointment that week, though. At first, Clarke was concerned when the pediatrician revealed that she’d lost nine percent of her birth weight, but after many reassurances that it was normal for that to happen, she managed to quell her fears. She could tell when Avery started to gain it back, too. So hopefully that meant she was getting all the nourishment she needed through the breastfeeding.

Other than the trip to the hospital, Avery mostly stayed home. She seemed comfy in her crib, and even though it was still too early to tell exactly what her behavior would amount to, so far, she seemed like a pretty well-behaved baby. So when she was nine days old, they decided to try bringing her out with them. Raven and Murphy wanted to have dinner, and they both recognized that they needed to get out of the house for a while, too. Clarke was excited to dress up a little. Nothing too fancy or flashy, of course. After all, her maternity jeans were still her comfiest pair of jeans, and she had to wear a loose, flowy shirt to hide the pooch of her tummy. But going out, even just to Eligius, gave her a reason to put a little makeup on and fix up her hair. Bellamy, as much as he rocked the shirtless sweatpants look, made her salivate whenever he put on dark jeans and a t-shirt. He was just . . . so hot. And once she got the clearance to have sexy times again, she fully intended to remind him just how hot she thought he was.

Everything about going out was different than it used to be. They had to strap Avery’s whole carrier into her car seat, which slowed them down and guaranteed that they’d be late, and then when they finally got there, they had to unhook her and haul both her and a big old diaper bag with them. But there was a lot more in there than just diapers: wipes, a changing pad, hand sanitizer, a nursing cover. Not to mention extra clothes, in case things got messy, and breast pads for any leaks she might encounter. It was just not glamorous at all. Not that it needed to be.

When they walked in the bar, Raven barely let them take two steps before she jumped in front of them and asked to hold the baby. That, of course, directed a lot of people’s attention at them, and after that, everyone wanted to see the baby, even people Clarke barely knew or hadn’t interacted with much since high school. Diyoza was there, so she held her and asked all about her. Clarke didn’t hesitate to brag her up while Murphy bought Bellamy a drink.

“She’s a good baby,” Diyoza said, smiling at Avery.

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed, happy to see that she was this alert and this well-behaved on her first big public outing. In fact, she was such a good baby that Clarke had a hard time envisioning passing her off to any sort of babysitter or daycare provider in the coming months. She’d have to find something to do for work, but her days working at Eligius were probably over. She wanted to find a job that she could do from home so that she didn’t have to miss out on any time with her.

When they were finally able to sit down in a booth with Raven and Murphy, Clarke already felt tired of being on her feet. But at least that kept her awake. As she sat there, waiting for her food, she felt like she could nod off at any second. Murphy remarked on it right away when he said, “You guys look exhausted.”

“We are,” Bellamy groaned. Even he had one elbow on the table, his fist pressed to his head as if to hold it up.

“Yeah, last night was rough,” Clarke agreed.

“What happened?” Raven asked.

Clarke looked down at the little girl, her carrier wedged in between her and Bellamy. “She woke up at 2:00 in the morning. Wouldn’t go back to sleep,” she said. She was still a good baby, but last night had been . . . less good.

“She just kept crying and crying,” Bellamy said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “We couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Didn’t matter what we did. We fed her, burped her, rocked her. I think she was just gassy.”

“Babies get really gassy,” Clarke said. That was something she’d underestimated, the sheer gas effect of it all.

“I’ll bet,” Raven said, using her straw to stir her drink. “So who’s been changing more diapers?”

Bellamy raised his hand as Clarke pointed at him and said, “This guy.”

Murphy snorted and shook his head. “Sucker.”

“No, it’s fair,” Bellamy said, pausing to yawn. “She’s feedin’ her. I can change her.”

They had a good system going in that regard. Which made the thought of changing it up even more worrisome to Clarke. “I’m nervous for tomorrow,” she admitted. She sort of felt butterflies in her stomach just thinking about it.

“What’s tomorrow?” Raven asked.

“I go back to work,” Bellamy said.

“You’ve done so much,” Clarke said, reaching over to rub his back. “And now I have to do it all on my own.”

“I’ll be home at 4:00,” he reminded her.

Realistically, she knew that wasn’t such a bad time. 8:00-4:00. A pretty standard day. He’d get home in time to help her with dinner, and they’d still be able to spend some time together before it was time to go to bed. And sleep in spurts. But what if he got home and was so tired that he went to bed right away, and then she and Avery didn’t get to spend any time with him at all?

“Clarke, if you need help with anything, you can always call me,” Raven offered. “I mean, my boss is my dad. And this one here . . .” She jerked her thumb in Murphy’s direction. “He’s a _YouTuber_. Not exactly a rigid work schedule there. He can help you out with whatever you need.”

Murphy chuckled and said, “Yeah, I’m the dastardly uncle who’s gonna teach the kid all the bad words.”

Clarke shot him a sharp glare and warned, “You’d better not.” She and Bellamy had already decided that they were going to be extremely cautious about swearing in front of Avery. Or at least try to be. They didn’t want her picking up on anything she shouldn’t say.

Murphy sank down in his seat just a bit and mumbled, “Threat received. You’re scary as a mom.”

 _Damn right_ , Clarke thought. Better that than a pushover.

“Seriously, though, Clarke, just let us know if you need anything,” Raven said. “We’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, willing to keep that in mind. If things got too stressful tomorrow, rather than bothering Bellamy his first day back, she’d give Raven a call. “But right now,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes open, “all I really need is sleep.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bellamy said. “Sorry, guys, I don’t think we’re gonna be much fun to hang out with for a while.”

“Diyoza!” Clarke called back to her boss. “No food for us. We’re just gonna go home.” She felt beyond lame having gotten dressed up—sort of—just to hang out for twenty or so minutes. But her body was telling her it was time to go home, and Bellamy’s was clearly telling him the same. In fact, the one who seemed the most awake out of the three of them was actually Avery.

“That’s alright. You guys go home and sleep,” Raven said. “We can get our food and then go home and . . . not sleep.”

Murphy grinned. “Hey, I like the sound of that.”

“Be careful,” Clarke cautioned as she and Bellamy struggled to get out of the booth with Avery’s carrier. “Unless you wanna end up with one of these.” Perfect as she was, she was still a lot of work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 _Shouldn’t have had that beer_ , Bellamy thought as he drove home. Not that it impaired his driving abilities or anything—it was _one_ beer—but it’d made him feel even more sluggish. Even when they got home, it wasn’t like he could just collapse into bed. He had to throw the laundry in the dryer, because he’d forgotten to do that earlier, and there were some dishes in the sink that he could probably do. He didn’t want Clarke to have to worry about any of that household stuff tomorrow.

“I can’t wait until this little stump of hers falls off,” Clarke said from the backseat.

“I know,” he said. “It’s kinda weird.” Even though it was just the remnant of the umbilical cord, it looked unnatural. “You notice how they never show that in the movies?”

“Oh, there’s a lot of stuff they don’t show,” Clarke said. “Mostly related to the birth. They either make it seem like a breeze or play it off for laughs.”

“And they never show you what happens after,” he added, slowing to a stop at a red light. Not that he had to press the brake very hard, because he was still just going their special speed limit anyway. “The movie just stops right after the baby’s born.”

“Yeah, really,” Clarke said. “Oh my god, is that what I think it is?”

“What?” He whipped his head around, figuring she was talking about Avery.

“There,” she said, pointing out the window. “Football practice? In May?”

He glanced out the driver’s side window and noticed the football field in the distance, a familiar array of dark green jerseys trotting around on the light green turf. “Huh,” he said. “Yeah, end of the school year, I guess. Summer practice starts right in.” He remembered being so thankful for evening practices during the summer, because it was cooler outside and meant he’d get to sleep in.

“Do you ever miss it?” Clarke asked quietly. “I mean, you went from throwing footballs down a field to throwing diapers in the trash.”

As the light switched to green, he pressed down lightly on the gas and glided through the intersection. “I don’t mind,” he said. “I mean, I do miss the game sometimes, but . . . this is better.” Back then, he hadn’t even known that this was something he would want someday. But now that he had it, this life with this family . . . it meant everything to him. “I’m happy,” he told her. A football career had never been in the cards for him. But fatherhood had been.

****

_“So are you happy with your decision to come to UCF?” The reporter thrust the microphone back into Bellamy’s face, and he actually had to take a step back from it._

_“Yeah, it’s been great,” he said. Even though it was hot as balls on that practice field and he still had all his practice gear on, he couldn’t deny that it was kind of a rush getting to do his first interview for UCF’s media. He hadn’t finished his media training yet, but the coaches had still urged him to get on camera and talk. “I love the university, love the program,” he said, remembering how important it was to expand on his answers. “Every day I’m surrounded by great coaches and great teammates, so . . . it’s a dream come true.”_

_The reporter took the microphone back and used that as a segue when she said, “Speaking of great coaches, what’s been some of the best advice you’ve gotten so far?”_

_Hell, he’d gotten a lot, but most of it was detailed technical stuff related to plays. That kind of thing wasn’t what the average person tuning in to the news was gonna wanna hear. “Just to not get overwhelmed,” he said. “Obviously playing in college is a lot different than playing in high school, so it’s an adjustment, but I think it’s goin’ well.”_

_“Well, Coach Lightbourne spoke very highly of you at his press conference today when he said you’re officially the back-up,” the reporter said._

_“Yeah, that means a lot that he and Coach Desai and all the other coaches have faith in me,” Bellamy said. Of course, he couldn’t wait to be number one someday, but he’d already bypassed two other guys to get that backup title. “I mean, I’m just a freshman, and I know I still have a lot to learn, but if they need me to go out and take some snaps, I’ll go take some snaps. I’m ready.”_

_The reporter smiled. “You sound ready.”_

_“Yeah.” He didn’t want his team’s starting quarterback getting hurt or anything—he didn’t wish that on any player—but if Brady needed a break and they were far enough ahead in the fourth quarter, he’d love to go in._

_“It’s a good thing we have you here then,” the reporter said, still smiling._

_“Yeah,” he said, and upon remembering that it was important to give a good sound bite that the news station could use as their headline for the story, he tacked on, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” That felt . . . true enough. Maybe not completely true, but true enough to say on camera. He was glad the reporter thanked him for his time and ended the interview after that, though, because he couldn’t say anything else about it. Couldn’t think too hard about what he’d left behind._

****

All it took was one cry to wake Bellamy up. It had seemed like fate when they’d gotten home and Avery had been ready to be put down for the night, because he and Clarke had barely made it onto the bed before crashing out themselves. But of course it hadn’t lasted long. It never did. He didn’t sleep very deeply anymore because he was getting so used to waking up.

Beside him, Clarke groaned and didn’t move. “It’s only been ten minutes.”

He managed to lift his head up and check the time on the bedside clock. “Two hours.”

“What?”

“It’s been two hours,” he informed her.

“No way.” She turned her head to the side, keeping it pressed against the pillow, and groaned again when she took a look at the clock, too. “I feel like we just laid down.”

“I know.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position, yawning. “Maybe she just needs to burp,” he said as he slid towards the edge of the bed. “I’ll go check on her.”

“No, I’ll go with you,” Clarke said, struggling to her feet.

“You don’t have to,” he said, but he held out his hand to help her out of the bed anyway.

“No, we’re doing this together,” she said, standing. “Besides, she probably needs fed.”

“Whip it out,” he said as they head out of the room.

She pulled her shirt up on one side to expose one boob. One huge boob. Not that he’d been noticing. Not that he’d been fantasizing about getting his hands back on them once they weren’t so sore.

As it turned out, Clarke was right. Avery had begun to cry because she was hungry. It was really amazing how much of a baby’s first few days of life was devoted to eating. And pooping. And sleeping. It wasn’t exactly a bad way to live. It had to be hard on Clarke, though. He couldn’t imagine being another human being’s sole source of nourishment.

“Yep, what’d I tell you?” she said as she sat in her comfy chair with the baby in her arms, cradling her close to her chest. “Hungry little girl. Can you hand me that burping cloth? I think she’s gonna need to burp after this.”

He gave her the one with cartoon mermaids on it, suppressed a yawn, and asked her, “Is that getting less painful?”

She shrugged as Avery continued suckling away. “Kind of. That nipple cream helps.”

He nodded, making a mental note to buy more of that. Even though it was a weird thing for a guy to shop for.

“God, nipple cream and burping cloths,” she said, laughing lightly as she shook her head. “Our lives are sexy nowadays, aren’t they?”

He chuckled, perfectly fine with it being a little less sexy than it once was. It was definitely a change, going from being just a couple to a couple of parents. It wasn’t like they were gonna stop having sex, though, or making each other feel good. They’d just have to work a little harder to find time and energy for that.

“She looks a lot like you,” he said, reaching over to stroke the fine hairs on Avery’s head. “Your blue eyes, blonde hair.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It might not stay blonde, though. It could get darker.”

 _Like Finn’s hair_ , he thought, trying not to react too much to that. “Yeah, it could,” he said. Whatever she ended up looking like was fine. Even if she did look like . . . her biological dad.

Clarke must have sensed that she’d unintentionally struck a nerve. Or not a nerve, really, so much as an insecurity. Because she quickly added, “I think she’s gonna be a Daddy’s girl,” and smiled at him.

“You think so?

“Yeah.” She sounded sure. Confident. “She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger.”

She really did, didn’t she? “Are you sayin’ I’m gonna spoil her?”

“Probably.”

Yeah, he probably would. She deserved it. “How can I not?” he said. “Look at her.” Every day with her, every minute so far, had been amazing. She didn’t even have to be doing anything special for him to be completely in awe of her.

“Yeah, she’s pretty cute,” Clarke agreed, helping Avery latch back on again when she moved her head back a bit. She was really good at this mom stuff, really natural. It was pretty incredible to watch her take care of Avery.

He thought about cracking open one of the books to read to his daughter again, or turning on the music so Clarke had something to listen to while he went downstairs and unloaded the dishwasher. But Clarke spoke up again before he could do any of those things. “Bellamy?” she said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. Just talking was a good way to pass the time on nights like these, too.

He was reminded just how much they still had to talk about when she slowly asked, “Does seeing her . . . make you wonder what our baby would have looked like?”

He hadn’t expected such a serious question. Not when they were both so tired. Not when they’d be going back to sleep as soon as Avery was full. But if she was going to ask it, then he wanted to answer honestly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You?”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded sadly. “I’ve been trying not to think about it too much and just be in the moment with her,” she said, “but . . . it’s hard not to.”

Yeah, it was. And maybe, in a way, it always would be. They’d think about it less and less as time wore on, though, and they both dealt with it more. “Maybe our baby would’ve looked just like her,” he said, although that didn’t seem realistic. “A little bit darker skin, though. Some freckles.” He would have loved to know that child, to raise her. Or him. But it wasn’t gonna happen, and he wasn’t gonna resent Clarke for all eternity. And he owed it to Avery to not compare her to a son or daughter who’d never been born. He didn’t want her growing up worrying that she didn’t mean as much to him as a biological child would. “I don’t love her any less just ‘cause she’s not mine, though,” he made sure to tell Clarke. “I hope she knows that.”

“She knows,” Clarke assured him right away. “And she _is_ yours. That’s why she has your last name. That’s why you’re the one who makes her smile the most. She knows you’re her dad.”

 _God, I hope so_ , he thought. Time would tell, he supposed. But right now, things were feeling good. Avery did smile a lot with him, and sometimes she even stopped crying when he picked her up out of her crib.

“You know, Bellamy, if you wanna go back to sleep, you should,” Clarke told him. “You’ve got work tomorrow. I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“No, I’m good,” he said, having no intention of going back to sleep while she was up doing all of this.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He’d be fine waking up tomorrow morning, regardless of how much rest he did or didn’t get. “Trust me,” he said, his gaze alternating between his girlfriend and his daughter, “right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”


	70. Chapter 70

_Chapter 70_

When morning came, it wasn’t waking up that seemed to be the problem for Bellamy. It was getting out the door. He kept finding things to do to delay himself, his inevitable departure. But finally, as the clock continued to tick, Clarke got him outside. It wasn’t that she _wanted_ him to leave, of course, but she also didn’t want to see him get fired. Again.

“You’re gonna be late, you know,” she warned him as he stood in the driveway with her and Avery. He had the baby in his arms and was doting on her, making her smile the way only he could.

“I don’t care,” he said, stroking his thumb across Avery’s cheek. It seemed like he could just stand there and stare at her all day. He probably would have liked to. “Maybe I could just call in sick,” he thought out loud. “That’s not suspicious at all, right? They’d never guess I just wanna spend another day with my two favorite people in the world.”

Clarke felt like her heart was turning to mush when he said stuff like that. Being a new dad had brought out an extra sweet side to Bellamy. A little cheesy at times, but that was fine by her.

At last, he let out a heavy sigh, said, “Alright. I’m forcing myself,” and handed Avery back to her. “I gotta go. But call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” she promised.

“And don’t forget, I’ll be home for lunch.”

“That’s just a few hours away,” she reminded him. Four hours of work, an hour of lunch that would probably feel more like a half an hour once he got home, and then four more hours of work. He could do this.

“Day’s gonna drag,” he predicted, still looking totally reluctant to go. Eventually, he bent down, pressed a kiss to the top of Avery’s head, and said, “Bye, sweetheart.”

“She says, ‘Bye, Daddy,’” Clarke said, wriggling Avery’s little hand for her as if she were waving.

“God, this sucks,” he groaned, backing away. It looked like it physically pained him to get closer and closer to his car. And when he looked in the back and glimpsed Avery’s car seat, he actually had to shut his eyes, maybe to keep from crying. Clarke couldn’t blame him. If it was her first day away from Avery, she’d feel emotional, too.

“We’ll be right here waiting for you,” she assured him, waving Avery’s hand for her again.

Bellamy looked the other way and wiped his eyes, obviously trying to conceal just how emotional he felt about this. But then, with one more deep breath, he finally did open the door and get into the car. He couldn’t even seem to bear to look at them as he put the key in the ignition and started it up, but he did send them a bittersweet smile as he slowly started to drive away.

Even though she’d been smiling moments before, Avery began to cry once Bellamy drove down to the corner and took a right turn. It was almost eerie how she just seemed to know that her daddy was gone for the day. “I know. I know,” Clarke said, patting and rubbing her daughter’s back. “I miss him already, too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Productivity . . . wasn’t Bellamy’s biggest concern his first day back. School being out for the summer meant that there was a lot of work for the janitorial staff to get done. Shampooing carpets, repainting walls, and basically doing a deep clean on every single classroom. It was gonna be a lot of work, but it wasn’t his priority. Checking in on Clarke and Avery was. He texted every half an hour to make sure things were going okay, until Clarke texted back that they were going to take a nap. So he stopped texting then. Which was fine, because he was glad she was finding a little time to rest. But he also hated being out of the loop on what was going on.

“Bellamy.”

He rolled his eyes when he heard his boss come up behind him while he was supposed to be moving desks out of the Spanish classroom and into the hall. “Look, Steve, I’m a new dad, okay? I miss my kid,” he growled in irritation. “Just let me be on my phone today, alright?” He continued to thumb through the boatload of pictures he’d taken of Avery these past ten days. Each one somehow more adorable than the last.

“I was just gonna tell you, Diana wants to see you,” Steve said.

“Oh.” He pocketed his phone, and, confused as to what was even going on, started off in the direction of the principal’s office. (It was a route he knew well.) As he passed Steve, he stopped and said, “Sorry,” but Steve just motioned him onward.

For the first time that day, he managed to think about something other than Avery as he made the familiar trek to headquarters of the school. What was happening? Why did she need to see him? What had he done wrong? His first thought was that he was getting reprimanded for something. Hell, when he’d been called in to see Emerson, he’d gotten fired. Was that what was going on here? Was it gonna happen all over again? He wasn’t sure his ego could handle that. Not to mention his bank account.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked as he poked his head into Diana Sydney’s office.

“Yes. Come on in,” she said. “Close the door.”

_Oh, no_ , he thought, slowly doing just that. If this was a conversation about something good, she’d probably just leave the door open, let the two secretaries outside hear everything she was going to say.

“How’s your first day back been going?” she asked him.

“Fine,” he lied as he took a seat at her desk. In reality, it sucked. He hated this job and hated that he didn’t have another week off to help Clarke around the house. Although, if he was getting fired, he’d have plenty of time off soon enough, wouldn’t he?

Deciding he might try to guilt-trip her into keeping him around, he asked, “Did you get to see a picture of my daughter?” and pulled out his phone again. If she saw the little person he had to financially support now, maybe she’d lay off the whole firing thing.

“No, not yet,” she said. When he showed her the cutest picture he had of her, she said, “Oh, she’s beautiful, Bellamy.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He’d probably have to intimidate and ward off a lot of boys someday.

“What’s her name?” Mrs. Sydney asked.

“Avery,” he replied, adding on, “Avery Blake,” for good measure.

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” He put his phone away again, still feeling like . . . the inevitable was going to happen. He couldn’t think of any other reason why she’d want to talk to him. “I’m not getting fired, am I?” he asked fearfully. “‘cause Clarke’s on maternity leave right now, and I really don’t wanna have to go to her parents and beg for money.”

The principal smiled at him and immediately put his mind at ease when she responded, “No, you’re not getting fired.”

_Nice change of pace_ , he thought, though he remained tense as he sat there, waiting for more.

“I wanted to . . . propose something to you,” she said.

“I don’t have the best luck with proposals,” he mumbled, though his interest was already piqued. “What is it?”

“Well . . .” She took a longer pause than was necessary. “Our head football coach decided to quit. Very abruptly.”

_Football_ , he thought. _Of course_. “Probably for the best,” he said. “No offense, but the record speaks for itself.”

She nodded sadly and agreed, “It does. We just brought Nathan Miller on as the assistant coach. So it seems like a no-brainer to offer you the head coaching position now.”

It wasn’t a shocking proposal by any means, but it still . . . surprised him in a way. With all the news that had gotten out about him and Clarke back in high school, he’d assumed the school would want to keep their distance from him. Teen pregnancy wasn’t exactly the image it wanted to promote. But then again, maybe a winning football team was the only image that mattered to them. “You want me to turn this team around?” he said, almost laughing at the thought. They were a shell of what they used to be.

“If anyone can do it . . .” she trailed off.

It was nice that she seemed to have so much confidence in him, but he worried it might be misplaced. “I’ve never coached a team before,” he said. Coaching was different than playing. And weren’t a lot of the best coaches just average players? Like they were good at coaching because they knew what it was like for the athletes who struggled more.

“But you played on a championship team,” Mrs. Sydney reminded him.

“We got second place,” he muttered bitterly. His fault.

“Well, you were still champions in the eyes of everyone in Arkadia,” she insisted. “Ever since you’ve come back, people have been hounding me to get you on board here. You’re a proven winner. You’re young enough to relate to the athletes but old enough to lead them. Seems like the perfect fit.”

Was it, though? What if he screwed the team up just like he’d screwed up that state championship game? “Not to sound greedy as fuck, but . . . how much would it pay?” he asked her. Despite his passion for the game, money was going to be a determining factor.

“I can match the salary you’re making now,” she told him. “Trust me, for a high school coach in a small town, that’s a good deal.”

It was, and he was well aware that it was. But something was holding him back from immediately saying yes.

“I know you don’t love the work you’re doing now, but you would love coaching,” she assured him. “Do me a favor: Go home. Talk to your girlfriend. Sleep on it, and come see me again tomorrow. Okay?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the out from the conversation. “Thanks,” he said. It wasn’t a decision he wanted to make on the spot. He wanted to talk to Clarke about it first.

“Have a good day,” she told him as he got up from her desk and left the office. He quickly swung back by the Spanish classroom to tell Steve he was going home, and Steve didn’t question why.

As Bellamy walked out to the nearly empty parking lot—just a few vehicles of a few teachers and staff members who didn’t seem to get the memo that summer vacation had started—he let himself think back. Not to the way his football career had begun, because those Friday nights out on that high school field had been amazing. If that was all football had ever been to him, there wouldn’t even be a decision to be made here. But it wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, the game had changed, turned into something that wasn’t as familiar or enjoyable to him. And going back to it made him feel . . . uneasy.

****

_“Damn,” Brady said, craning his neck to the side. “Look at that ass.”_

_Bellamy didn’t bother to look, because if he glanced up from the pages of the book in front of him for even one second, the letters would probably be all jumbled the second he looked back down._

_“I’d fuck the hell outta that,” Winston, the team’s number one wide-receiver, said._

_“I think I already have.” Brady grinned smugly._

_“And?” Winston asked._

_Brady shrugged. “Nothing special. Just another sophomore slut.”_

_Bellamy winced. There were certain words he didn’t use to describe girls, and that was one of them. Didn’t matter if they were a one-night stand or not._

_“Blake, are you really studying right now?” Winston teased him. As though studying was such a bad idea or such a foreign concept in the designated studying zone of the Student Union._

_“Trying to,” he said. He’d gotten the reading list for his English class early, and it was intimidating. He wanted to get a head start on it. He_ needed _to._

_“Studying,” Brady scoffed. “Why?”_

_“Because I’m in college,” Bellamy replied. “And college is a lot harder than high school, and I already sucked at that.”_

_“So pay someone to do your homework,” Brady suggested._

_Bellamy narrowed his eyes at him, noting the smug look on his face. “Is that what you do?”_

_Brady might have been lying, might not have been, when he answered, “No. I just don’t spend ten minutes on one page.” He reached across the table and shut Bellamy’s book._

Son of a bitch, _Bellamy thought, more than a little frustrated. If this was high school, no one would have made fun of him for anything. In fact, in high school, if he’d have made more of an effort to study, the other guys on the team probably would have, too. “I’ll see you guys later,” he said tersely, grabbing his things. He tried to make a smooth exit, but he felt something drop from his pocket when he got up._

_“Hey, wait a minute, you dropped your . . .” Brady reached down and picked up his phone for him. And when he saw the image that was Bellamy’s background, he didn’t hand it back right away. “Well, now, what do we have here?”_

_“Give me that,” Bellamy said, trying to swipe the phone back from him. He didn’t want Brady seeing any pictures of him and Clarke, let alone one of many romantic selfies they’d taken together out at the beach._

_“Is this your girl?” Brady asked, holding the phone just out of his reach. “This the reason why you got your eyes on a book instead of that chick’s ass?” He laughed, eventually handing the phone back to him. Bellamy put it back in his pocket right away._

_“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, bro,” Winston said._

_“I don’t,” Bellamy told him._

_“You sure?”_

_Reluctantly, he sat back down with his teammates, leaving his book closed again. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” he mumbled._

_“Oh, so she’s on the market,” Brady noted. “Feel free to hook me up with her.”_

_Bellamy shot the quarterback a stern look. That wasn’t happening._

_“Let me see,” Winston said, holding out his hand for the phone. Winston . . . wasn’t Miller or Zeke by any means, but he also wasn’t as bad as Brady when it came to girls. So Bellamy handed over his phone and let him see._

_“Fuck, she’s hot,” Winston said. “Damn. Got a rack on her, too. You ever fuck those tits?”_

_Bellamy just glared at him. Yeah, he had, but he wasn’t about to tell them all about that. They weren’t the best of friends, and even if they were . . . everything he and Clarke had done together was_ just _for him and Clarke. No one else. “We’re done talking about her,” he decided, grabbing his phone back._

_“Come on, man, I’m just--”_

_“I said we’re done,” Bellamy snapped. Clarke was none of their business. Period, end of story._

_“Don’t mind Winston,” Brady said. “He’s just jealous ‘cause we quarterbacks get all the hottest girls.” He chuckled._

_“Fuck you,” Winston said a little too loudly, garnering a few angry “Shhhs,” from some of the other students nearby who were trying to study. He looked around, lowered his voice, and said to Brady, “At least the girls I fuck remember it.”_

_Brady suddenly fell silent, and his whole facial expression just changed. He looked instantly serious, and his reaction coupled with those words made Bellamy tense up, too. What the hell did that mean? Was it just a jab, a way of insulting Brady’s, uh, performance? Had to be, right? It wouldn’t be . . . anything else._

_“Let’s go,” Brady said to Winston, standing up from the table. “Bellamy needs to get back to studying.” The two of them left without so much as a goodbye, without another word. And that tense feeling that had overcome Bellamy didn’t exactly fade away when they were gone._

It was just a joke, _he told himself. Not a very funny one, but still . . . nothing to be worried about._

****

Bellamy arrived home when he had planned to, for lunch, but it hadn’t sounded like Diana expected him to be back at all. Which was good, because that job offer was weighing _heavily_ on his mind, and he needed to sort it out. Besides, it wasn’t like he was just _yearning_ to clean any classrooms.

“Hey,” Clarke greeted him cheerfully. She sat on the couch with Avery, holding her while she slept, watching TV. “Is it lunchtime already?”

“Yeah.” He kicked off his shoes, amazed that his feet could hurt so much after only being on them for a few hours. That job . . . it made everything ache.

“I lost track of time a while ago,” she said, muting the TV.

“Was it hectic?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

“At first, yeah,” she replied. “She just wouldn’t stop crying. But then I tried singing to her, and that actually worked.”

_Of course_ , he thought. His girlfriend’s voice was a good one for lullabies. Or any type of song, really. No matter what she sang, it always sounded good.

“She fell asleep for a while, so I got to nap, too,” Clarke went on. “She woke up about an hour ago, but just to feed. Now I guess she’s tired again.”

Part of him had been hoping that Avery would be awake and energetic when he got home, but it was good that she was sleeping. Clarke deserved the downtime. “Looks like you guys have done alright without me,” he remarked.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s better when you’re here, though.”

He wished money and jobs weren’t even an issue, then, so he could have been with them all the time. “Can I hold her?” he asked, feeling like . . . he just needed to have that baby in his arms.

“Yeah.” She carefully passed Avery over to him, then angled her body towards the side, propping her arm up on the back of the couch. “You look like . . . you’re not having the best day,” she noted.

“No, it’s not bad,” he assured her. “It’s just . . . weird.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well . . .” He knew it wasn’t going to sound so weird when he told her what had happened. It’d probably just sound like good news. “I got offered a job,” he revealed to her. “Football coach.”

Her eyebrows shot up excitedly. “At the school?”

“Yeah.”

And there came the happy smile. “Well, that’s great,” she exclaimed. But it only took her a second to see that he wasn’t having the same reaction, because her smile fell, and she quietly squeaked out, “Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. It could be. He wasn’t sure.

“Is that, like, in addition to the job you’re already doing?” she inquired.

“No. In place of it.” Naturally, she had to be assuming that a pay cut was the reason why he wasn’t more ecstatic, so he told her, “I’d get the paid the same, though. Probably even more if we started to win.”

She stared at him curiously, then asked, “So why don’t you seem happier?”

It was hard to explain, but the thought of coaching football just made some shit resurface that he’d tried to keep buried as much as possible, from everyone but her. “I just don’t know if I should do it,” he said. “I mean, considering the way football ended for me . . . maybe it’s best if I just don’t go back to that.”

“Well, being a coach would be different than being a player,” she pointed out. “And not only would you get to do something you love, you’d get to be a good role model for those guys.”

“Am I a good role model, though?” he wondered. “I’m telling you, it feels like that Hall of Fame thing all over again. I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“You do, though,” she insisted.

He shook his head, not able to believe that as easily as she did. He’d really dropped the ball, so to speak, in college. Not on the field, but off of it. At that party.

“Bellamy,” she said softly, reaching over to put her hand on his shoulder, “what happened at UCF . . .”

“Sticks with me,” he filled in. This job offer had it sticking to the front of his brain. “I know I don’t talk about it a whole lot, but it’s always there, Clarke,” he said. “Those guys, that team . . .” He shook his head, selfishly pissed off that he hadn’t had a better experience, that it hadn’t been everything he’d dreamed it would be. “They took something I loved and made it . . . different,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Something I didn’t even recognize. Something I didn’t wanna be a part of anymore.”

“But this isn’t UCF,” she protested. “And you’re not nineteen years old anymore.”

Yeah, he knew that. Logically, he knew. The guys on this team weren’t going to take advantage of drunk girls at parties, and if any of them ever so much as tried, he’d kick them off the team and kick their asses more ways than they could count. “So you think I should do it?” he asked her. Even though it was pretty obvious.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’d have Miller with you, too. I think you’d have fun.”

Admittedly, the thought of getting to work with a close friend who also happened to have been a hell of a good player . . . it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. As terrible as Arkadia’s team was these days, he did sort of love the challenge of turning it around. “It’s probably more time-consuming than we realize,” he said, mentally weighing the pros and cons. “Especially during the season. We’re talking weights every morning, practices every night after school. Plus, I think I’d have to go to some coaching clinics and meetings and stuff.”

“At least you could do some things at home, though,” she said, “like . . . drawing up plays and watching film and stuff.”

“True.” He smiled a little, because he pictured himself doing that with Avery in his arms, just like she was now. And when she was older and bigger and could fit in one of those chest carriers, he’d just strap on one of those and bring her out to the field.

“And Avery and I could come to practice sometimes,” Clarke added, “just sit on the sidelines.”

“Hmm. That might be kinda distracting,” he said.

She gave him a look. “You really think all those big, tough football players are gonna get distracted by a baby?”

“No,” he said. “But they might get distracted by the baby’s hot mom.”

“Are you saying . . .” Clarke’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Am I officially a MILF now?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you are.”

“Huh,” she smirked, then shook her head and laughed. “Well, you know what that makes you then,” she said, grinning at him suggestively.

DILF was a title he wore with pride. Too bad the F part of both acronyms was still a couple weeks away for them.

She got serious again when she scooted closer and urged, “Take the job, Bellamy. You know you still love the game.”

_I do_ , he thought, remembering that rush of running the ball into the end zone, or the thrill of making a game-winning pass. There were other guys on that team now who deserved to feel that same way, and if he could help them get there, then maybe the past didn’t have to matter so much anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Every team had a culture, and Bellamy picked up on the Rockets’ culture right away at their first meeting. He brought them into the gym and made them all sit down at the bleachers, then proceeded to clock how long it took for them to all shut up and be quiet. Five minutes. Five minutes before they realized he was just waiting there for them. That alone showed him they weren’t taking it seriously.

He started off with a mini-lecture about focus, and about how they weren’t focused, and about how pissed off he was that it’d taken them five minutes to shut the hell up. It didn’t hurt to instill a _little_ bit of fear right from the start. Most of the best coaches he’d ever had had intimidated him at least a little bit. But after that, he went into his whole pre-planned spiel about the goals and the hopes he had for this team, the things he wanted to see them accomplish. He couldn’t be _too_ intimidating; he had to be encouraging, too. It was kind of a tough balance to achieve.

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat things,” he said, slowly walking back and forth in front of them on the edge of the court line. “The past couple years, things haven’t gone the way this team wanted them to. You guys have had tough losses, injuries, and some season stats you’d probably rather forget.”

A couple of the guys nodded solemnly. But others just continued to stare at him blankly.

“But you’re all still here,” he reminded them. “You’re on this team because you love this game.” Even as he said that, he had a feeling there were some who were on it for other reasons. Primarily social. They just wanted to hang out with their friends, or they wanted to be able to wear the green jersey on game days and look more popular than they actually were. He’d weed those guys out for sure. They weren’t gonna last in the program he had planned.

“Now each and every one of you has what it takes to be a great player,” he said. “A winner. Maybe even a champion. But you’re not there yet. And that’s why I’m here. That’s why Coach Miller’s here.” He motioned behind him, where Miller stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a stern look on his face. “We know what it takes to win. Some of you probably sat in the stands at the games we played in, cheered us on. Well, now you have kids out there cheering _you_ on, wanting to see _you_ succeed. So are you gonna do it? Are you gonna put in the work it takes to get there?” He paused for a moment after those two questions, hoping to see some of the players nodding their heads. But he didn’t. “‘cause I promise you, it’s gonna take a lot of work,” he said. “Ask yourself that right now: Are you willing to work your ass off to become a better player, a better _team_? And if the answer’s no, you might as well leave now.” Again, he waited, just to see if anyone actually made the move to get up and go. Right now, they were all too proud or too stubborn to do that. “No one’s leaving,” he said to Miller.

“Nope,” Miller said.

“I guess that means you’re all in then.” Time would tell who _really_ had what it took to be a player on his team, but for now, he could try to whip all of them into shape. “Are you?” he boomed loudly. “Are you guys all in?”

He’d been hoping for some kind of rousing response, or if not that, at least a few mumbles of “Yeah,” or some nodding heads. But he still got nothing but silence, and the only thing that broke into that science was one of Avery’s little giggling sounds. He looked back over his shoulder to where Clarke and Avery were sitting on the opposing bleachers. “Sorry,” Clarke apologized as she shushed Avery.

Bellamy turned back to his team and exasperatedly spat, “Really? My baby’s the only one who’s all in?”

Finally, that got a reaction out of the guys. Just a smile out of most of them, but a chuckle out of a few. It was something, so he’d take it.

“Come on, circle it up,” he said, motioning for the guys to stand. A couple of them groaned as they got to their feet, and a few of them couldn’t have looked more uninterested if they’d tried as they formed a lopsided circle. “You guys might be down right now, but you’re Rockets,” Bellamy reminded them. “You don’t stay down. You blast off.” He put his hand in the middle of the circle, and all his players instinctively did the same. “Rockets on three. One, two, three!” he counted.

“Rockets!” they all yelled, but it wasn’t as loud or as enthused as it could have been. As it hopefully _would_ be by the time their first game in August rolled around.

“Alright, hustle out onto the field,” he told them. “We’re gonna start with some conditioning.”

“Let’s go!” Miller shouted, leading the way out of the gym at a fairly fast-paced jog. A few of the heavier guys started complaining right away about having to run.

_Got my work cut out for me_ , Bellamy thought as he crossed the gym to check in on his girls. He sat down next to Clarke and asked, “Did you hear that ending?”

“Oh, with the Rocket metaphor?” she said. “Yes, very nice.”

“Yeah, you gotta leave ‘em with something to hold onto,” he said. “I may not be able to read too well, but I’ve always been able to give a damn good speech.”

“Yeah, everyone always liked it when you talked at pep rallies,” she recalled.

“I usually just pulled those out of my ass,” he admitted. Man, those had kind of been the days, though, hadn’t they? Everyone in that school looking up to him, thinking he was just the greatest, the coolest. Maybe a few of these current players had looked up to him once, but most of them had been too young to really pay attention to anything he’d said at those pep rallies or anything he’d done on the field.

“How’s she doin’?” he asked, eyeing Avery.

“I think she’s gettin’ kinda cranky,” Clarke said. “I’d better take her home.”

He didn’t exactly love the thought of her driving so soon after delivery—hell, it’d only been two weeks—but she’d driven to the store the other day and had insisted she felt fine. “Alright,” he said. “You need any help with anything?”

“Nope, I’ve got it,” she said, zipping up Avery’s large baby bag. “Just go ahead and get out on the field, crack down on these guys.”

“See you in a couple hours,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You, too,” he added for Avery, pressing a kiss to his fingertips and then pressing his fingertips to her face. This was going to be a short practice for many reasons: the heat, the lack of conditioning these guys had done in the past, and his overwhelming desire to get home and spend the evening with his girlfriend and his daughter.

Once out on the field, Bellamy watched in disbelief as the guys struggled through some simple pyramid sprints. Some of them were completely gassed by the time they reached the end of the field, and that was even with him allowing them fifteen seconds in between. Hell, back when he’d been in _youth_ football programs, he’d been lucky to get ten.

“You seein’ this?” Miller asked as the guys crouched down at the goal line again.

“Yeah.” Bellamy blew his whistle, and they took off—some faster than others—for the ten yard line. “We got a lot of work to do.”

Miller shook his head in dismay and said, “It just deteriorated, man.”

It sure had. Bellamy looked down at the stopwatch and only waited twelve seconds before blowing his whistle again. Twenty yards this time, and a few of the big guys on defense _really_ took their time getting there.

“Did you ever think you’d see the game from this side?” Miller asked him.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t have made it in the NFL. I’m not big enough.”

“You had the talent, though,” Miller said. “You never did tell me why you didn’t stick with it in college.”

The answer to that question was reserved only for conversations with Clarke. To this day, even Octavia still didn’t know, and she never would. “It wasn’t everything I thought it’d be,” he answered vaguely. Needless to say, taking this job had made him think a lot about how things could have gone differently, and about how that would have altered his whole life. And as much as he hated what had happened at UCF, he didn’t hate that he’d ended up back in Arkadia. “I’m glad I’m back here,” he said, unable to envision his life any other way now.

“Yeah,” Miller said. “If you hadn’t come back, Clarke would be a single mom, and Avery wouldn’t have a dad.”

Picturing the two of them on their own, even though they would have made it . . . it hurt his heart just thinking about it, because it wasn’t what either of them deserved. Or maybe . . . maybe if he hadn’t been around, Finn would have actually decided to step up and be there for them.

He blew his whistle again, right at fifteen seconds, and tried to refocus his mind on the practice at hand. Because as much as he didn’t like thinking about his family ending up alone, he didn’t like picturing Finn ending up with them, either.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke shook out her old, crinkled pom poms in an attempt to fluff them out a bit and eagerly asked, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy answered from the bedroom.

_I’m gonna embarrass myself here_ , she thought, opening the bathroom door. She did her best to skip out into the room and jump at the foot of the bed, but her body was still . . . recovering, and that made her wince.

“Careful,” Bellamy cautioned, starting to sit up.

“Stay down,” she told him, pointing a pom at him. She’d worked hard on this silly little routine, and she wanted to show him. Clearing her throat and imagining Raven yelling, “Ready!” she clapped her poms together and then started in on the motions she’d choreographed with the words she’d made up. “B-E-L-L-A-M-Y! Bellamy! That’s my guy! Gooooo, Bellamy!”

He laughed, a huge grin on his face. “Wow. How long did you work on that?”

“Like two minutes,” she fibbed.

“Really?” He sounded skeptical.

“Okay, maybe ten,” she said, although it’d probably been more like twenty. He’d just looked so tired once he’d gotten home from practice that she’d gotten it in her head that a silly little cheer could perk him up. Not that she was super perky herself. In fact, it’d be a miracle if she was able to stay up past 8:30.

“I like your pom poms,” he said suggestively.

She threw them at him and said, “If that’s code for what I think it is, then my pom poms are very, very sore.”

“They look good, though,” he said as she crawled into bed with him. “You look good.”

That was nice to hear, especially since she was starting to get frustrated with her post-pregnancy body for not just snapping back into the shape it’d been before starting to expand. “My belly still feels kind of flabby,” she admitted, lying on her side. “And I don’t know if the stretch marks are ever gonna go away.”

“That’s fine,” he said, dropping her poms onto the floor. “Come here.” He put his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, and kissed her deeply, the kind of kiss that didn’t end with just one, but rather transformed quite naturally into full-on making out. Bellamy must not have been completely exhausted, because his hands rubbed her sides and her back, and his tongue darted out a few times to caress hers.

“Mmm,” she moaned, taking a break from the making out only to boost his ego a bit. “You know, all this sexlessness is reminding me what a good kisser you are.”

“One of my few talents,” he murmured against her lips before planting one on her again.

“Few?” she said, pulling back a bit.

“Yeah. Kissing. Sex. Sexy things with my hands. And football. That’s about all I’m good at,” he claimed.

“Motivational speaking,” she reminded him.

“And that.”

“And parenting,” she added.

“That’s a talent now?”

“Well, you’re really good at it.” He was good at a lot of things, and she wished he’d give himself more credit.

“So are you,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear for her. “We’re doin’ a good job.”

“Yeah.” They weren’t experts yet by any means, but these first two weeks had definitely taught them a lot, more than any app, baby book, or even Lamaze class ever could have. “Bellamy?” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?”

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to ask the question that was on her mind, but she felt like, if she didn’t, it’d just linger there, distracting her. “Do you think we would’ve done a good job five years ago?”

That look in his eyes changed from a playful one to a serious one. They hadn’t talked about it a whole lot. It wasn’t like they were actively avoiding it, because they were just busy being new parents more than anything else. But Clarke felt like they needed to talk about it sometimes, just as a way of continuing to deal with it.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

It definitely would have been harder, because they’d been younger. But not impossible. “We’ll never know,” she said sadly. “Can’t turn back time.” Rolling over onto her back, she looked up at the ceiling and let out a deep sigh. “I just broke down today, Bellamy,” she confessed. “While you were at practice. I was watching Avery sleep, and I started thinking about . . . everything.” She gulped, feeling a lump in her throat all over again. “And I just started crying,” she said. “I mean, I think part of that’s normal. A lot of new moms feel extra emotional during these first couple weeks. But most new moms aren’t feeling guilty about . . . doing what I did. So it’s a lot.”

“Clarke . . .” He moved closer to her, reaching out to put a hand on her stomach. “It’s like I said in the hospital . . . I forgive you. For not telling me. You don’t need my forgiveness for the abortion. That was your choice to make.”

“I know, but I still made it without you,” she said. His forgiveness for the secrecy meant so much, more than he’d ever know. But it didn’t erase her guilt altogether. “I think I’m still trying to forgive myself,” she said, her voice shaking as a few tears slipped over onto her cheeks. “Oh, sorry,” she said, wiping them away. “I started out with pom poms and ended up in tears.” These mood swings definitely didn’t just vanish after pregnancy.

“That’s okay,” he said, rubbing her stomach. “You want me to make you laugh?”

“Yeah.” That always made her feel better.

“Alright.” He sat up, mumbling, “Let me just get these pom poms.”

“Oh, god.” What did he have up his sleeve?

“Can’t fuckin’ believe I’m doin’ this. Cheesiest shit I’ve ever done,” he muttered as he got out of bed and went to stand down at the foot of it. He struggled to reach his hands towards the center of the poms and grip the small plastic bars. His hands were way too big. Shaking his head, he groaned and said, “Alright, here we go.” Then he launched into the most un-cheerleadery dance moves she’d ever seen, basically just flinging his arms out in all directions as he chanted, “C-L . . . A-R-K-E! Clarke . . .” He had to pause for a few seconds to come up with something that rhymed. “You are the girl for me! Yeah!” He threw both poms up in the air, a huge, dorky smile on his face. “That’s so bad, I’m sorry. Don’t tell anyone you ever saw me do that.”

She laughed so hard at his ridiculous performance that that her stomach muscles hurt, and, for the time being, at least, all her tears just went away. Her boyfriend may not have been a cheerleader, but he was still _her_ cheerleader. And that made her feel so lucky.


	71. Chapter 71

_Chapter 71_

“Thanks for coming,” Clarke told Harper as she unrolled her yoga mat onto the floor. “You’re the fittest person I know, and I figured seeing your abs would give me motivation.” She glanced quickly at Harper’s enviable stomach, adding, “And they do.” Even before her pregnancy, she would have loved to have abs like Harper’s.

“I don’t know about this,” her friend said nervously. “Are you sure you’re ready to start working out?”

“Yes. I cleared it with Dr. Jackson,” she said, taking a seat on her mat. “He said I just have to take it easy, which I will.” She pressed a few buttons on the iPad she had sitting out in front of her, and the video she’d found last night began to play.

“Fifteen-minute post-natal Pilates.” Harper sat down with her as she read off the title. “Seriously, Clarke? Pilates is no joke. We do that in dance.”

“Look, read the description.” Clarke paused the video, scrolled down to the description box, and read it aloud. “‘Perfect for post-partum moms who want to gently strengthen their core and tighten and tone their tummy.’ That’s what I wanna do.”

“Why?” Harper asked. “You’re already looking great.”

“But I wanna look better.” Clarke handed the whole iPad to her friend and instructed, “Press play for me.”

Sighing reluctantly, Harper did just that, and as the woman on screen started to talk, she cautioned, “If you feel anything pull or snap, you need to just stop right away.”

“I’ll be fine,” Clarke insisted. Her body was actually starting to feel like her body again. Just a little poofier than she was accustomed to, which wasn’t doing great things for her post-baby self-image. She knew it was normal not to be able to lose all the weight right away, but she definitely had a few extra pounds she wanted to shed.

“So what’s this really about?” Harper asked.

“Really?” Clarke mimicked the instructor, alternating twisting from one side to the next, amazed that she couldn’t even reach her arm back behind herself as far as she could before. “Bellamy,” she admitted. “Sex with Bellamy.”

Harper eyes widened in alarm. “You’re not starting that up again already, are you?”

“No,” she said, “but when we do, I want it to be . . . good, you know?”

“Isn’t it usually?”

“Well, yeah, but . . .” She got lost in thought for a moment, still twisting when she was supposed to be trying to lean back a bit and just hold herself there. That one still pulled too much, so she couldn’t quite do it. “This’ll be the first time we do it since I had Avery,” she said, “and . . . look, I can’t help it, okay? I feel self-conscious.” She knew that Bellamy loved her no matter what and would think she was beautiful no matter what—realistically, she knew that. But she wanted to feel sexy when they finally hooked up again.

“But you guys had sex while you were pregnant,” Harper pointed out. “And you were a _lot_ bigger then.”

“But that’s different. I had a baby bump,” Clarke said, regretfully touching what very much just felt like an extra tire around her midsection these days. “Now I just have leftover flab. And I wanna get rid of it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Harper said. “But it’ll take time. And Bellamy won’t care. He understands what your body’s been through. He isn’t gonna expect you to look exactly like you used to.”

“I know.” She carefully lay down on her side and started doing some little leg lifts that felt way more strenuous than she would have liked. “I’m probably making a bigger deal out of it than I need to. But it’s not just for him. I wanna do this for me, too.”

“Well, that’s good,” Harper said. She lay down, too, facing Clarke, and set the iPad down in between them. “I support that.”

Although the volume on her device wasn’t turned all the way up, the brief break in conversation was all it took for Clarke to hear something on the video from that instructor that made her whole heart sink. She stopped doing the leg lifts, and her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably.

“What?” Harper asked.

Clarke sat up, instantly close to tears, and choked out, “Did you hear what she just said?”

“No, I wasn’t listening.” Harper sat up beside her and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Sniffing back tears, Clarke managed to respond, “She talked about squeezing everything . . . down there. Because it’s just not the same.” Her shoulders shook, and the tears sprang out. There was no controlling them. Her hormones were still so out of whack.

“Oh, Clarke . . . don’t worry,” Harper said, rubbing her back reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Clarke shook her head, crying profusely at the thought of her vagina never going back to the way it was. Even if she did get her stomach back and somehow miraculously avoided stretch marks, there was one thing that was never going back to the way it was before. It was pretty much a scientific fact. “I do Kegels all the time, and I don’t feel like it’s doing any good,” she wept. “When Bellamy and I do it again, it’ll be like throwing a pickle down a really wide hallway!”

“No, it won’t,” Harper said. “Come here.” She opened up her arms and pulled Clarke in for a hug.

The front door swung open while Clarke was still crying, and in came Bellamy with two sacks of groceries in his arms. “Hey, I’m back,” he announced. His whole face fell when he saw her sitting there crying with Harper, and he fearfully asked, “What—what’s wrong? What happened? Is she okay?”

“She’s just feeling worked up,” Harper said.

He set both bags down on the couch and rushed towards her. “About what?”

“Your pickle,” Clarke responded, her voice muffled against Harper’s shoulder.

“I didn’t buy any pickles,” he said.

“It’s a metaphor pickle!” she cried loudly. And there she was with a really wide, stretched out hallway, because a whole damn baby had come out of it.

“Oh, you mean . . .” Bellamy glanced down at his crotch but didn’t seem any less confused. “What?”

“She’s feeling insecure,” Harper explained. “About body stuff.”

Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, Clarke sat up straight and tried to calm herself down. “I’m just emotional,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself. “I’ve just _been_ emotional for, like, a year now.” When was she going to stop crying at the drop of a hat? Did that ever go away?

“Were you guys working out?” Bellamy asked, motioning to the iPad.

“Yeah,” Harper said. “Post-natal Pilates.”

“It’s easy stuff,” Clarke assured him. “But then she just started talking about squeezing and . . .” Pouting, she shook her head. “It’s not working. I can’t squeeze.” Maybe they were just gonna have to start having more anal sex nowadays. Bellamy definitely wouldn’t be mad about that.

“Okay,” Harper said, standing up. “This is obviously a private thing, so I’m gonna pass this one off to you, Big Papa. Good luck.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, taking her seat as she grabbed her purse and practically sprinted out the door. He waited until she was gone to start talking. “Clarke. Would you look at me?”

She felt ridiculous and knew her eyes were probably all red and puffy. But she looked over at him anyway.

“Please,” he said, “just believe me when I tell you you’re the sexiest, most beautiful girl in the world to me. And I’ve traveled all over the world.”

“Not to Asia,” she mumbled. “Or Africa. Or Antarctica. So you can’t say that for sure.”

“Yes, I can,” he insisted. Then, tilting his head to the side, he asked, “Do people actually live in Antarctica?”

“Yep,” she said, nodding. “I watched a documentary the other day.” She’d been watching a _lot_ of TV lately now that he was back to work and Avery’s main pastime was still sleeping.

“Huh,” he said. And judging by the contemplative look on his face, he was definitely thinking about that now. But she was still stuck on this whole physical intimacy thing.

“When we start having sex again, what if it feels a lot different?” she asked him outright. Better to ask than to keep it bottled up inside.

“Then it feels a lot different. That’s fine,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “But I’ve got news for you.” He leaned in, kissed her cheek, then whispered his words into her ear, his warm breath spreading a tingle up her spine. “I’m not just gonna have sex with you. I’m gonna make love to you,” he promised.

She had to shut her eyes for a moment, because just the thought of that reignited a desire that had been dormant for a while. Those last few weeks of pregnancy had dulled pretty much any and all desire to do anything frisky, but now, with those words from him, it came flooding back.

“Ah, there it is,” he said. “There’s a smile.”

Well, apparently that had come back, too. Her emotions were still as changeable as a light switch, so she didn’t feel like crying anymore. “You’re good at being romantic,” she told him, puckering up for a kiss. And he gave her one. And that one kiss quickly deepened and became more than one, and _just_ when it was starting to feel like they might get a little make-out time, the sound of crying came over the baby monitor.

Bellamy pulled back slowly. “And Avery’s good at interrupting a moment,” he said, sighing. “I got her.” He got up, headed for the stairs, and told her, “You just keep on going with your yoga.”

“Pilates, Bellamy,” she corrected him.

“Whatever it is, you don’t even need it,” he assured her as he marched up the stairs. When he was on the second floor, he called back down, “You’re hot, Clarke!” And that made her smile just like him telling her he was going to make love to her had. She wasn’t the type of girl who needed a man’s validation by any means, but pregnancy _had_ made her feel a little insecure in its aftermath. Luckily, she had a boyfriend who knew how to make her feel wanted in every single way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke had never taken her mom up on a dinner invitation as quickly as she did Friday night. End of the week, and she couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything more than order pizza if she stayed home. Whatever her mom made was bound to be better.

The nice thing—well, one of many nice things—about Avery was that she gave everyone something to talk about. Even when she wasn’t doing anything other than sleeping, she was always the center of the conversation. That meant that the usual tension between Bellamy and her mom was . . . less. Because they both loved Avery, and they both loved talking about her. Her mom was quite complimentary of him. When Avery started to cry and he instinctively knew to pick her up and burp her, even though she’d burped earlier after feeding, Abby watched him with an impressed look on her face and even told him it looked like he was doing a great job with her.

Kane seemed to be settling into a grandfather role quite easily. Avery liked to reach up and try to grab hold of his beard, which was longer than her daddy’s, and sometimes Kane bent down and let her give it as much of a tug as her little hands were able to. He even volunteered to change a diaper when that need arose, and Clarke and Bellamy were both happy to let him.

After eating, Clarke halfheartedly volunteered to help her mom clean up, but her mother would have none of it. She got to work loading up the dishwasher while Clarke sat at the counter with Avery. Bellamy went outside with Kane and a couple of beers, just to stand by the pool and have some guy talk.

“I’m so glad you came over tonight,” Clarke’s mom said. “I really am.”

So was she. Homemade pierogis were a lot better than greasy pizza. “You just wanted to see the baby,” Clarke teased, rocking Avery gently as she dozed.

“And you, of course,” her mom added. “And Bellamy.”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot upward.

“He and I are mending fences once and for all,” her mom said. “I promise.”

Clarke knew better than to assume the fences were all going to be mended overnight, but based on the overall pleasant vibe of _this_ night, she felt encouraged. “He said you complimented his shirt,” she said with a smile.

“It’s a nice shirt,” her mom mumbled.

It was a black t-shirt he’d tossed on after getting home from practice that afternoon. But he did look pretty damn hot in it. “You’re trying to get on his good side,” Clarke noted. Even if compliments like that were transparent, she wasn’t mad about it.

“Maybe a little,” her mom admitted. “I’ve got some forgiveness to earn.” She looked down at the dirty plate in her hand for a few seconds, then shook her head, and loaded it into the dishwasher. Right back to work. But Clarke saw it, the momentary flash of regret. And she felt it, too. Every day. Her mom wasn’t the only one trying to earn forgiveness for keeping Bellamy in the dark.

As easy as it would have been to just let it go, not venture back into the past, they had a moment alone without the guys, and what had happened back then still loomed very large over their lives today. “Mom?” she said quietly, even though the door to the backyard was shut and Bellamy and Kane wouldn’t have been able to hear her. “With Avery being here now, does it make you think about . . . what could have been?”

Her mom didn’t answer as she closed the dishwasher and turned it on.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately,” Clarke told her. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t stop.” She wasn’t feeling plagued by thoughts to the point of feeling depressed, which was good, because post-partum depression was obviously a real concern for any new mom. But it did also feel like there wasn’t a day that went by that she went without thinking about . . . her decision.

“Yeah, I think about it, too,” her mom confessed, leaning back against the counter, her hands gripping the edge of it tightly.

Clarke looked down at her baby girl, in awe of her little eyelashes and her cute, rosy cheeks. “She could’ve had a sibling,” she said sadly. She’d probably have one someday, but . . . not a big brother or sister. A little one.

****

_It was ridiculous how into the first season of_ Teen Mom _Clarke was. She’d never watched the show before, never had any desire to watch it . . . until now. She actually paid for the whole first season on Amazon, and even though she’d only started watching last night, she was already close to finishing up._

_Her mother knocked on her bedroom door, but she was so absorbed in what was happening with what she was watching that she didn’t pause and minimize the window on her laptop quickly enough. Her mom came right into the room without waiting for an invite, and without even a hint of a smile on her face. “Clarke,” she said, her voice sounding stern and serious already. “What are you doing?”_

_“Nothing,” she said, pausing but failing to minimize or exit out of her browser. Her computer was sort of laggy, and that gave her mom plenty of opportunity to look over her shoulder and see the episode paused right on a shot of Farrah and her daughter. And hadn’t Farrah gone on to do porn? Great._

_“What is that?” her mom said, making a face. “Oh, not that show.”_

_“I just . . . wanted something to binge-watch,” Clarke said, giving up on her computer. No need to try to hide what she’d been watching now._

_Her mom sat down on her desk, picked up the computer, took a closer look at the paused image, and shook her head angrily. “That’s not reality, Clarke,” she said, practically slamming the laptop closed. “You know that, right? Those girls get paid for that show. Most of what you see is_ highly _edited. And real life doesn’t come with a pretty soundtrack and fancy editing like those episodes do.”_

How do you know about the soundtrack? _Clarke wanted to ask. Was it actually possible her mom had turned in to a few episodes, too? “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m gonna make this work,” she said. Sure, maybe_ Teen Mom _wasn’t the greatest resource for all her information, but . . . she simply couldn’t read any more web articles that made motherhood sound like this beautiful, blessed miracle. It didn’t feel like a miracle to her. Not at sixteen years old._

_“Well, you’ll have to figure it out soon,” her mom said. “School’s starting in two weeks.”_

Oh god, _Clarke thought. That was just around the corner then. She was pretty sure she still didn’t_ look _pregnant, but what if she threw up in the middle of class? Or started crying out of nowhere? She’d cried a lot this past week. And what the hell was she supposed to do about cheerleading practice? She didn’t feel right jumping around and dancing with a baby in there. All she could picture was it jiggling around, getting all shaken up._

_“We do have a little time, though,” her mom said, putting the computer back down._

_“Time to what?” Clarke asked, afraid she already knew the answer to that question._

_Her mom’s eyes bore straight into hers, and her facial expression didn’t even change when she answered, “To keep talking through your options.”_

Options. _Given the way their last conversation about her ‘options’ had gone, Clarke felt like that could only mean one thing. “You mean . . . abortion?” she said, almost choking on the word. She got up from her desk chair and stammered, “No, I don’t—I don’t wanna talk about that.”_

_“We need to,” her mom insisted. “I know it’s on your mind.”_

_It hadn’t been. Not really. Not until her mother had brought it up two days ago. “What do you want me to say, Mom?” she whispered tearfully, flapping her hands against her sides._

_Her mother stood in front of her, grabbed her arms gently, and said, “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me tell you what would happen, what your recovery would be like . . .”_

_“Mom, I can’t . . .” Clarke pulled her arms away and backed up, shaking her head. “This is too much right now.”_

_Apparently it wasn’t too much for Abby Griffin, though, because she just kept on going. “I realize it’s not a pleasant thing to think about or talk about,” she acknowledged, “but I need you to understand that, if it’s what you decide to do, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”_

_Clarke narrowed her eyes suspiciously and asked, “Isn’t it, though? I mean, we’re talking about killing a baby.”_

_“No, we’re talking about making an informed choice about what happens to your own body,” her mom said. “And it’s not a baby yet.”_

_“But it’s gonna grow into one if I don’t . . .” She trailed off, feeling like she might cry again. Dammit._

_“Yeah, it’s gonna grow into a baby,” her mom said. “And that baby’s gonna change your whole life. Forever. And Bellamy’s.”_

_Clarke winced. Bellamy. He was already off living his life, a whole new life, actually. Without her, and without the responsibility of a child holding him back. “I know that,” she mumbled. As her frustration continued to mount, she got louder and couldn’t hide the impatience in her own voice. “God, I already know.” She turned her back on her mom, paced the room for a bit, and then ended up in front of her own floor-length mirror, a reflection she didn’t recognize staring back at her. She didn’t even feel like herself anymore. The girl who had walked into the boys locker room and asked Bellamy to take her virginity was gone, replaced by this girl, who would have done almost anything to have it back. “I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, Mom,” she confessed. “I wish I’d been more careful.” It wasn’t that she regretted being with Bellamy. She just . . . wished he would have put a condom on. She should have made him. Every single time. She was a doctor’s daughter, after all. Should’ve known better._

_“I wish you had, too,” her mom said._

_Clarke felt her bottom lip start to tremble, and her eyes stung as tears rose up within them. She blinked them back, though, because she was so damn tired of crying. “I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered, her whole mind a jumbled mess of ideas and emotions. On the show, some of the girls were struggling, but sometimes they looked really happy, too. And one of the couples had put their baby up for adoption, so . . . why rule that out?_

Because it’s not gonna happen, _she thought, answering her own question. The only way she could put the baby up for adoption was if Bellamy agreed to it, and he wouldn’t do that. He’d give up his entire dream to come back to Arkadia and be a father. And she couldn’t let him do that alone. If he was going to do this, then she had no choice but to do it, too. To become a mom. Even if she wasn’t ready._

_“I feel like I should just take responsibility, but . . .” She gulped, turning away from her reflection because she didn’t even want to look at herself anymore. “I’m so scared,” she whispered. Her mom, at the very least, looked sympathetic now, but still dead set on having this conversation. She felt like she needed another source of advice, so she quickly ran through the possibilities in her head, and one stood out. “Maybe I should talk to Aurora,” she pondered. “She got pregnant in high school, but she managed. And her family was a lot less well-off than we are.”_

_“Clarke, if you tell Aurora, you might as well be telling Bellamy,” her mother warned her. “Are you really ready for him to know?”_

_She_ hated _feeling like she was hiding this for him, but . . . “No.” She wasn’t ready. The moment she told him, he got on a plane in Orlando and flew right back home. Farewell to football stardom, hello to a future full of fatherhood._

_“Then just talk to me,” her mom urged her. “That’s why I’m here. Tell me what you think you wanna do.”_

_“I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t . . . I want . . .” It was scary to be honest with herself, to admit that what she wanted to do and what she thought she should do were perhaps two very different things. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, though. The words poured out: “I want this whole thing to be over with. I just . . . I don’t wanna be pregnant anymore.” There was no containing the tears once she’d said all that out loud. She felt horrible. She felt like a horrible person. And it didn’t matter that her mom came to collect her and practically pull her across the room to sit down on her bed. It didn’t matter that she held her and hugged her while she started to sob, or that she whispered, “It’s okay,” and stroked her hair soothingly. She didn’t_ feel _okay._

****

Clarke made eye contact with her mom, and judging by the guilt she saw in them, she wondered if they were remembering the same thing. There had been so many chances for either one of them to stop and say, “Let’s talk this through a little more.” But neither one of them had. Once they’d gotten the ball rolling on that decision, they hadn’t stopped.

“I meant what I said back then, Clarke,” her mom said through a tightly clenched jaw. “Doing what you did, what _we_ did . . . it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yeah, she knew that. On some level, she knew. She wasn’t the only woman in the world who had had an abortion. Hadn’t been the first, wouldn’t be the last. There were . . . circumstances. Reasoning. But there was also still regret, and lately, there was a lot of it.

“If anything, it was more my doing than yours,” her mom said.

“No, you didn’t force me to make the decision I did,” Clarke assured her.

“But I encouraged it.”

Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. It was true. Once the idea had been firmly planted, her mom had nurtured it, helped it grow. Against her dad’s wishes, of course, which had really ended up fueling their divorce.

“Then I guess it’s just something we both have to live with,” Clarke muttered, looking down at Avery again. At least she got to live with another child, too.

“Yep,” her mom said. And even without looking at her, Clarke knew her eyes were focused on her granddaughter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy took a swig of his beer, glanced back over his shoulder inside the house, and he couldn’t help but notice that Clarke wasn’t smiling. It didn’t look like she and her mom were arguing or anything, but . . . he had a feeling he knew what they were talking about.

“Hey, Kane?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I need some advice,” he blurted. There was absolutely no segue from what they’d been talking about—sports, admittedly—to this, but he didn’t care.

“What kind of advice?” Kane asked.

“Uh . . .” He hesitated, scratched his eyebrow, and then mumbled, “Romance advice.”

Kane smirked. “Well, you’ve come to the right man.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m no slouch in the romance department,” he said. “But I feel like Clarke’s been kinda . . . hard on herself lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s been thinking a lot about . . . things,” Bellamy answered. “And she’s upset with the way her body’s looking, even though I tell her she looks great. But we can’t really . . .” He felt odd saying it, so he tried to rephrase. “I mean, we’ve still got a few weeks before we can . . . you know.” He wouldn’t have been so vague with Miller or Murphy or any of his guy friends, but Kane was more like a father figure. “This is weird, isn’t it?” he said. “I’m practically talking about your stepdaughter.”

“It’s a little weird,” Kane admitted.

“Sorry. I just need some ideas for things I could do with her to make her feel good, you know?” He downed the rest of his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the outdoor trash bin. “And I can’t ask any of my friends, ‘cause they don’t fuckin’ know. Murphy couldn’t be romantic if you paid him, and Miller only knows how to romance other guys.”

Kane laughed.

“I guess I could ask Raven or Harper, or maybe Lexa,” he pondered, “but they might let something slip to her. And I want it to be a surprise, whatever it ends up being.”

“What about Lincoln?” Kane suggested.

“My pride prevents me from asking him.”

Again, that got a chuckle out of Kane. “Well, I’ll tell you what I think,” he said. “Now keep in mind, I’ve never had a new baby or anything like that, but I’d imagine you and Clarke are both feeling pretty exhausted still.”

_Understatement_ , he thought. “I don’t even remember what a full night of sleep feels like.” Between her pregnancy and this baby, it’d been so fuckin’ long.

“But at the same time, she’d probably really like to get out of the house. So you could take her out,” Kane advised. “Date night. Once a week, once every other week . . . whatever works for the two of you. And here’s the important part: No Avery allowed. You get Abby and me or your mom or someone else to watch her. You and Clarke need time to yourselves to just enjoy each other’s company.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” He loved his daughter dearly, but he loved Clarke, too.

“But don’t try anything too extravagant,” Kane cautioned. “You don’t want the dates to exhaust you even more.”

“So I gotta keep it simple,” he concluded. “What, like a movie or something?”

“Sure. Why not?”

He wasn’t even sure what was out in theaters, or if anything looked good. But it was summer, and summer usually brought out some big films. “Alright, I can do that,” he said. Back in high school, he and Clarke had gone to a couple of movies. Although they’d usually ended up doing some frisky stuff in the back of the theater from the moment the lights dimmed onward. So maybe that was why, even though he didn’t have the slightest recollection what movies they’d gone to see, he did remember having a damn good time at them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Bellamy, I don’t know about this,” Clarke bemoaned as her boyfriend practically dragged her out of his mom’s room and into the living room.

“She’s gonna be fine,” he said.

She already knew that. They’d brought over the portable bassinet to Aurora’s house, and multiple bottles filled with milk Clarke had started pumping the night before. They’d also brought her purple bunny and all the other stuff she was used to having with her and needed. But still, the thought of not being with her tonight, even if it wasn’t the _whole_ night . . . it made Clarke’s stomach roil with worry.

“But if she gets hungry . . . she’s never fed from a bottle before,” she said, purposefully dragging her feet so Bellamy really had to pull her along with him.

“It’s still all your milk. I’m sure she won’t care,” he said.

Clarke dug her heels into the carpet so hard that she would no longer budge.

“No, I mean . . . nothing could ever replicate the experience of doing that _with_ you,” he corrected himself. “Mother/daughter bonding and all that. But this is the next best thing.”

Clarke moaned, still semi-protesting, even though she had to admit, it was kind of exciting to think of what they could do with hours upon hours of time by themselves. With Avery, everything revolved around her, and Clarke didn’t really mind. But if it was just her and Bellamy, they didn’t have to worry about checking the baby monitor at all times, and they didn’t have to stop everything at any given moment to change another dirty diaper. And they really were getting dirtier by the day, which kind of sucked.

“Why are you guys still here?” Octavia asked them from the kitchen. She’d returned to her spot at the kitchen table, an open textbook and messy, unorganized binder lying in front of her. She’d stopped studying the moment they’d shown up with Avery, but Clarke was actually kind of proud to see her getting back at it. She’d opted to take a summer class, just because she wanted to graduate quicker.

“We’re leaving,” Bellamy told her.

“You were supposed to leave ten minutes ago,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but we were just double-checking to make sure we brought everything,” Clarke said. Which was kind of a lie. They’d double and triple-checked at home. The only thing that was taking so long right now was saying goodbye to Avery, leaving her there in the bedroom with his mom and walking out the door. Even though this whole date night had been Bellamy’s idea, she could tell that it was hard for him to drop her off, too.

“I think you brought her whole nursery,” Octavia said, setting her pencil down. “Look, my mom raised two kids already, one who is absolutely fantastic, and another who’s . . . sufficiently mediocre.”

“She’s the mediocre one,” Bellamy claimed.

Octavia just rolled her eyes. “If anyone’s fit to be a babysitter, it’s her.”

Clarke squirmed, feeling like such a clingy mother. “I know. It’s just hard, ‘cause . . . we haven’t left her alone with anyone before. I’ve barely left her alone at all.”

“Clarke.” Bellamy grabbed hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We need this.”

“Yeah, but would I rather be watching Avery or watching . . . what movie are we seeing again?” She hadn’t picked it out, hadn’t even bothered to see what was showing.

“I don’t remember what it’s called,” he admitted. “But it’s _heavy_ R.”

“Why?” she asked. “Not, like, violence, right?” Gory films weren’t her thing.

“No. Sex.”

“Oh, really?” Now that was . . . intriguing.

“Yeah, I figured we’d go see a sexy movie, get us in the mood for that long-awaited day a couple weeks down the line when we can finally . . .” He didn’t get to finish, because Octavia started making exaggerated puking sounds to indicate how grossed out she was. “Way to kill my moment, O,” he grumbled.

“Had to,” she said. “Now not to sound like a bitch or anything, but why don’t you guys just leave already?”

Clarke glanced at the clock, recognizing that they really needed to. The movie started in twenty-five minutes.

“My mom’s with the baby,” he said. “And my sister’s kickin’ us out.”

She sighed, relenting once and for all, and said, “Alright, let’s go see this raunchy movie.” Once they were there, she knew she’d probably just be in the moment with him, and she’d have a really good time. Yes, she’d still be excited to come home and see Avery, but there was more to her than being a mom and more to him than being a dad. They were also still a couple, and they needed coupley time.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading her out the door. “See you, O!” he called. “Have fun being mediocre.”

“I think you mean fantastic!” she shouted after him.

Once they were at the theater, Clarke was relieved to see it wasn’t too crowded for a Friday night. A lot of people didn’t seem to bother with the theater anymore, especially not with the local one here in Arkadia. They had a small selection of movies, and usually the theaters weren’t the cleanest. But both she and Bellamy had agreed that driving to Polis or anywhere out of town was out of the question. They wanted to be close by just in case, by some freak chance, something went wrong with Avery and his mom had to call them.

They got their tickets quickly enough that they still had time to stand in line for refreshments. As they waited for his pop and her popcorn, they noticed a few dads getting dragged into the theater showing the latest Disney movie. _Frozen 5_ or something? Clarke wasn’t really sure how many _Frozens_ there were anymore, and she hoped those movies waned in popularity by the time Avery was old enough to be one of the little girls who might be a fan of them.

“Oh, god, look at them,” Bellamy leaned over and said quietly as two little girls pulled their dads in. “They look miserable. But that’s gonna be me someday, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.” As much as those dads might have had no interest in any Disney movie, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that they loved spending time with their daughters, and that would _totally_ be Bellamy. He’d probably play dress up with Avery, and have tea parties with her, and let her put makeup all over his face. If she was a girly girl. If she had any trace of a tomboy in her, though, she had no doubt that he’d try to nurture that, show her how to catch a football, go running with her.

They ended up getting their food and drink with just enough time left to slip inside the theater for their movie, and they sat pretty far in the back. Clarke had barely even made a dent in her large popcorn, though, and the trailers had only just begun when she felt herself falling asleep. It happened quickly and wasn’t something she could stop. At certain points, she could still hear sounds coming from those loud speakers, usually sexy sounds, but it wasn’t enough to wake her up. And she didn’t even _want_ to wake up, because she was having a pretty sexy dream. Whether that had come about as a result of her own imagination or the movie seeping into her sub-consciousness, she didn’t really know, but it was the kind of dream worth having, that was for sure.

Only when the lights came on did she jolt awake, realizing her head had been on Bellamy’s shoulder the whole time. “I loved it,” she claimed. Even though she hadn’t seen a second of it.

“Me, too,” he said, likewise sounding as if he’d been asleep. Judging by the drool he wiped off the corner of his mouth, he definitely had been.

So the movie had been a bust. As they strolled out of the theater and she dumped her cold popcorn in the trash, she had to laugh. It was a far cry from fooling around in there back in the day, unzipping each other’s pants to get each other off right there in public without anyone else in the theater knowing what was going on. But it was still a good time, in its own way. So what if they’d fallen asleep? They were still brand new parents, and their brand new baby still didn’t know how to sleep through the night.

“You were right,” she said, holding his hand as they walked back out past the concession stand. “This was a good idea. I had fun.”

“But we barely saw any of the movie,” he pointed out.

“I don’t care about the movie,” she said. “It was fun just getting to spend time with you. It makes me feel young again.”

“You are young,” he assured her. “We both are.”

“Yeah, but I feel old,” she lamented. “Between my body changes and the sleep deprivation . . . I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the past three weeks.”

He slowed, then stepped in front of her, took both her hands in his, and said, “You look the same to me.”

She smiled, even though she doubted it. Her waist wasn’t as tiny as it’d been back then, and her boobs were more heavy than perky. She didn’t take as much time on her hair or makeup as she used to, and he’d probably gotten used to seeing her with bags under her eyes. But even knowing all that, hearing him say that, and feeling the warmth of his gaze, stirred all sorts of desires inside. “Kiss me,” she told him.

He grinned and backed her up towards the wall, much like he had the first time he’d kissed her back in the locker room. His arms and hands and shoulders were bigger than hers, so encompassing, as he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, passionately, without regard for anyone else around.

She felt like she could have stood there with him for a long time, felt the urge to open up her mouth and let his tongue wrap around hers. But that was a little _too_ much PDA, especially with little kids beginning to emerge from the theater they’d dragged their dads into an hour and a half earlier. _Frozen_ (or whatever the hell it was) must have been done. The title on the screen above the theater showed the next movie up, and it definitely didn’t _sound_ like a Disney movie. In fact, Clarke was pretty sure it was another showing of the film they’d just slept through.

“Mmm, you wanna sneak into the back of that theater and make out for a while?” she asked him playfully. Now that she’d gotten a nap, she felt good to go.

“I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind watching Avery for a little longer,” was his response.

Yeah, it would be just a little while. Fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe. They couldn’t impose on his mom too much, even though she’d jumped at the opportunity to be Avery’s first babysitter. They still needed to get home to her and _wanted_ to get home to her, but . . . they also wanted each other. And even though they’d been slow getting out the door, in large part because of her, now that she was already out, she didn’t mind the thought of staying out just _slightly_ longer than they’d intended. This was their one and only date night this week, and the first they’d had in a long time. She didn’t want to sleep through _all_ of it.

Grabbing Bellamy’s hand excitedly, feeling like a teenager again, at least for the time being, she led him towards the theater.


	72. Chapter 72

_Chapter 72_

Football plays were a lot of X’s, O’s, and arrows. Bellamy had looked over and learned a countless amount of them in his time as a player, but he’d never been the one to come up with them before. As he started looking through the Rockets playbook, he realized that there were just too many. They needed to narrow it down to the plays that would work well for their team, polish and perfect those before they added on any trick plays.

He and Miller drew out each play on the whiteboard in his office. (It wasn’t a big office by any means, but hell, none of the other coaches had gotten one.) They tweaked the plays to fit their team, to match the skills (and in some cases, lack thereof) of the guys they had out on the field. It wasn’t easy.

“Maybe we’re overthinking it here,” Miller said, taking a step back from the board and rubbing his head. “Should we just have him run a slant route?”

“Do we _have_ anyone who can run a slant route?” was Bellamy’s response.

“Not well.”

He sighed, feeling like his brain was melting. They’d been at this for hours, and they still had over half the playbook to work through. “Alright, I gotta sleep on this,” he decided. “Let’s come back tomorrow and think about it some more.”

“Sounds good,” Miller said. “You wanna go grab a drink or somethin’?”

He shook his head and grabbed his phone and keys off his desk. “Can’t,” he said. “Somewhere I gotta be.” See, the thing was, he and Clarke had decided it was bath day for Avery, the first one that would consist of more than just getting wiped off with a washcloth. And he sure as hell wasn’t gonna miss that.

They were both so excited to bathe her that they didn’t waste any time once he got home. They got her flowery bathtub in the sink and put some water in it that was warm, but not too warm. From the second they set Avery down in the bathtub, she looked both confused and intrigued.

“Look at her!” Clarke exclaimed as she rubbed some special baby soap all over Avery’s soft skin. “She’s like, ‘What’re you doing, Mommy?’”

“Yeah, look at her face.” He had to laugh at the expressions she was making. Not even quite four weeks old yet, and she was already making funny faces.

“I think she likes it,” Clarke said.

“She doesn’t know what to think.” At least she hadn’t cried, though. He’d watched a video on YouTube before falling asleep last night where a bath had led to a crying attack.

“It’s your first bath, Avery,” Clarke cooed.

“Well, technically, they gave her a sponge bath in the hospital,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but this is, like, her first _real_ bath,” Clarke said, drizzling water over the baby’s chest and shoulders. “We should be filming this, shouldn’t we?”

Bellamy reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “Where’s Murphy when you need him?” he said, quickly starting a video. It was a tough balance figuring out when to record something and when to just set the phone down and be in the moment. He was glad he was recording when Avery started to splash a little bit, though, ‘cause that was so fucking cute, and he needed to be able to watch that over and over again. She didn’t have much coordination or control yet, but she was definitely interested in what that water felt like.

“What is it, Avery? Is that water? Do you like the water?” Clarke asked her in a high-pitched baby voice. Avery looked up at her and sort of wrinkled her forehead. Clarke laughed. “You’re right, she doesn’t know what to think.”

He chuckled, too, prior to blurting, “She’s so cool.” And he meant that. Seriously, that little baby was the coolest person in the entire world to him.

Of course, Clarke was pretty damn cool, too, and he loved spending time with her. Even though a lot of their time together revolved around their daughter these days, there were still moments that he managed to find with her. And one of them was that night, after they’d put Avery down for bed. Clarke ventured into the bathroom, and he sat down on the foot of the bed, flipped on the TV, and channel surfed for a bit while he listened to the bathtub fill up. He was tired, of course, but he’d gotten used to being tired. So he didn’t feel like lying down and going to sleep. He felt like being close to her. So he made the decision to shut the TV off, get up, and head into the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said quietly, poking his head inside.

She had a silk robe on but had been in the process of taking it off. Her back was towards him.

“Need any help?” he asked.

“I got it,” she said, but it was hard not to notice she pulled the robe back up over her shoulders and re-tied it around her waist as she turned to face him.

Slowly shuffling into the room, he decided to ask, “Can I join you?”

She hesitated for a moment before reminding him, “We still can’t do anything.”

“I know.” He wasn’t looking for sex. He just wanted . . . intimacy? Yeah, that was probably the right word for it.

“Bellamy . . .” She let out a small sigh as he stopped in front of her. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” she said. “I just . . . I’m still really self-conscious about the way I look.”

“You look great,” he assured her. He was trying to tell her that every day, multiple times a day.

“But I feel . . . different.” She sort of cringed.

It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to hear, but he wasn’t going to push or pressure her, so he nodded, respecting her decision. “Okay,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.” He leaned in, lowered his head close to her ear, and said quietly, “But for the record, I think every single inch of you is beautiful.”

That caused her to draw in a shaky breath.

_Whenever she’s ready_ , he reminded himself. As much as he would have loved to have his hands all over her, he’d respect whatever she was feeling and whatever she wanted. So instead of trying to convince her further, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then turned to leave the bathroom.

“Bellamy,” she said, stopping him before he left. When he turned back around, he saw a look of longing in her eyes, the same kind of longing he felt in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe I am ready,” she said, smiling a bit. “For cuddling.”

“It’s fine, Clarke,” he assured her. “I can wait.”

“No,” she said, reaching down to grip the tied part of her robe. “I do want you to join me.”

God, he wanted to. More than anything in that moment, he wanted to get naked with her and crawl into that big old bathtub. “Are you sure?” he asked, giving her another chance to reconsider.

“Yeah,” she said. And she sure as hell _looked_ sure when she pulled open her robe and let it fall to the floor. She stood before him then, completely naked and completely vulnerable. And fucking breathtaking. No, she didn’t look exactly the same as she had in high school, but she didn’t need to. Her curves, her skin, her whole body . . . he was in awe of everything.

He got out of his clothes quickly, too, and enveloped her in his arms, kissing her and reveling in that skin to skin contact. They’d done plenty of cuddling these past couple weeks, but nothing quite like this. It was like he was really _feeling_ her again, like she was really feeling him.

Once they got in the bathtub, it was even easier to relax. The water was warm, and she’d put some of her floral bubble bath in. Sure, he’d smell like a chick once he got out of there, but he didn’t care. At least it smelled good. And _she_ smelled good. She sat in front of him, in between his legs, leaning forward, and whenever he sat up to press a kiss to her shoulder blades of the back of her neck, he caught a whiff of the shampoo she’d used in her hair that morning. Her hair was getting longer again, gave him the chance to thread his fingers through it.

“Mmm, this feels nice,” she purred as he rubbed her arms and back. “I think I’m enjoying my bath more than Avery enjoyed hers.”

“I’m enjoying it,” he said. He didn’t even have to be touching the usual parts of her to get worked up. If she scooted back a bit, she’d probably feel the evidence of just how worked up he got just by having her naked body close to his. He’d have to stay in the tub a little bit longer than she did and rub one out, because . . . he didn’t wanna be an ass and ask her to do it.

When she lay back, resting her head against his chest, he was pretty sure she _had_ to feel what was happening to him underneath the water. She didn’t say anything about it, though, which made it a little bit easier to ignore. “I can’t wait to feel your hands all over me again,” she said as her eyes fell shut.

“Good.” He couldn’t wait to _have_ his hands all over her again. He was trying his best to read up on how to go about having sex with a woman after she had a baby, and he felt like . . . it’d be fine. Better than fine, actually. He was gonna make it really good for her.

“I feel like I could stay here with you all night,” she said sleepily.

“We’d get shriveled,” he pointed out. Plus, the water would get cold, eventually. If she fell asleep, he’d make sure to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom before it got too chilly.

“Mmm,” she moaned again, sounding so content. So _happy_. “I love you, Bellamy,” she whispered.

A similar feeling of contentedness washed over him, filling him with a different kind of warmth than that bath water did. “I love you, too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The more days she spent at home, the more confident Clarke became in her mom routine. Sure, it got boring sometimes, and she would have loved to be able to go out more often. But Raven was working, and Harper was choreographing for an audition she had next month, so it wasn’t like she and Avery would be of any assistance with things like that. Lexa had stopped by to visit, but only before heading off to spend the summer with Costia. Possibly more than just a summer. Clarke really doubted she’d come back to Arkadia after living with her girlfriend for the next few months. Octavia was spending a lot of her summer at the gym with Lincoln, and although Clarke wanted to do some working out, she didn’t want to do it with other people around.

That pretty much left Murphy, who did pop in about every other day. He claimed it was because he was bored, too, but Clarke suspected Bellamy had asked him to check in on her and Avery every once in a while. Sometimes he sat and watched a little TV with her, and usually he grabbed a snack from the refrigerator on his way out.

For the most part, though, it was just her and Avery, and they had their routines. One of them was a 10:00 nap. For whatever reason, Avery always seemed to get sleepy around that time each day, so Clarke could bank on being able to put her down for a while, then head downstairs and eat brunch before catching a few Zzzzzs of her own.

“Alright, you get some sleep, baby girl,” she whispered as she lay her infant down in her crib. “But not too much. You gotta sleep tonight.” She stroked the fine, downy hairs on top of Avery’s head, mumbling, “More than three hours at a time would be nice.” Avery was still feeding at predictable intervals, and short ones at that. When the day finally came when she was able to sleep for more than a handful of hours at a time, Clarke was probably going to cry. Tears of absolute joy, of course.

As she left the nursery, turning the lights off, she glanced down at her phone to make sure the baby monitoring app was doing its job. Right when she tried to bring it up, however, her phone rang. It was her father calling. “Hi, Dad,” she answered.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good.” She gently pulled the door to the nursery shut, but not all the way. More like halfway. “I just put Avery down for a nap.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure she’s taking lots of those.”

“Yeah, it’s her favorite pastime.” She yawned as she shuffled towards the stairs and admitted, “Mine, too, these days.” If Murphy stopped by today, she’d watch some morning TV programs with him while she ate her brunch, but if he didn’t, she was going to lie down on that couch and doze off while she could.

“I talked to your mom,” her dad told her as she was heading downstairs. “She says you seem to be adjusting to motherhood pretty well.”

Clarke smiled. Even though moms were practically obligated to say that, it made her feel good to get that compliment. “Yeah, I think so,” she said, venturing into the kitchen. “No signs of post-partum depression, so that’s a relief.”

“I’m sure,” he said. Then he hesitated a moment, and his voice was quieter, almost a bit farther away, as he said, “I always knew you’d be good at this.”

Clarke froze with her hand on the refrigerator door, trying not to read too deeply into that. But it was hard not to.

****

_Hands trembling, Clarke reached for the door to her father’s office. When she pulled it open, he must have heard her, but he didn’t even glance up from . . . whatever it was he was doing. Quite honestly, his whole job went way over her head, but he had a pile of papers in front of him and was looking through it while also looking at something on his computer._

 _“Dad?” she said quietly. “Can we talk?” They really needed to._ Really _needed to._

_He did finally look up, but only for a second before returning to his work. “I’m kind of in the middle of something,” he mumbled._

_So was she. In the middle of something life-changing, actually. “I need to talk to you,” she insisted._

_He sighed frustratedly. “Can it wait thirty minutes?” he asked._

_“No.” She didn’t feel like it could wait at all._

_“I’m working, Clarke,” he said. “If I don’t get this paperwork done and sent out by midnight . . .”_

_“No, Dad, you don’t understand,” she interrupted urgently. “I’m thinking about having an abortion.” The words felt like a knife slicing across her chest. But she’d said them. Out loud. To someone other than her mom._

_That was enough to do it, to get her dad’s full attention, to make him forget about whatever work he’d been trying to focus on. “What?” he gasped._

_She didn’t want to say it again, nor did she need to. “I told you we need to talk,” she said._

_He stared at her in disbelief for what felt like a long time, then stammered, “What—what do you mean you’re thinking about . . .” He trailed off, shook his head as if he refused to believe her, and stubbornly muttered, “No. No.”_

Yes, _she thought sadly. She_ was _thinking about it. A lot._

_Her dad’s expression changed into one of anger very suddenly, and his voice rose in volume as he demanded, “Why would you even consider that?”_

_“Because.” Maybe he couldn’t understand because he was a man and he’d never gone through the experience of actually being pregnant. And maybe that was why her mom could. “Mom and I have been talking about it,” she told him._

_“Dammit,” her father swore, shaking his head again. He stood up, walked around his desk, and came closer to her. “Clarke,” he said, reaching out to grab her arms. He looked like he wanted to shake her, but he didn’t. “Listen to me.” His voice was stern. “You don’t wanna have an abortion.”_

_She blinked, trying to hold back her tears. “That’s the thing, though. I do,” she confessed. It wasn’t fun to say by any means, but it was true, and the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t stop. “On some level . . . that’s what I want,” she said, her voice cracking as the mix of emotions inevitably bubbled up, closer to the surface. “I just want it to be done.”_

_“It’ll never be done,” her dad told her. “It’ll stick with you forever.”_

_“You know what else would stick with me? A baby,” she shot back. “A baby that needs to be fed and changed and looked after all the time. I’m too young to have a baby, Dad.”_

_He finally let go of her arms, took a step back, and angrily crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, you weren’t too young to have sex,” he pointed out._

_Part of her wanted to argue against that, because it wasn’t sex that had been the problem. Her carelessness with it had been. “I made a mistake,” she admitted. If she could have just gone back in time to that hotel room on her last night with Bellamy, she would have insisted he put a condom on instead of telling him to go without. Simple as that._

_“And this would be another one,” her dad said. “Another mistake. Mark my words.”_

_“Maybe.” She wasn’t blind to that possibility. “But maybe not.”_

_Her dad dragged his hands through his hair, exhaling heavily, looking like he just wanted to scream. But to his credit, he remained calm enough to just keep talking to her. “Why—why would you even consider this when you could put the baby up for adoption?” he asked. “Your mom and I would support that.”_

_She gulped. “Bellamy wouldn’t. Bellamy would wanna raise it. He never had a dad. He wouldn’t just give his kid up. He’d_ be _a dad.” It wasn’t like she could blame him for that, or even be mad about how he would react. Bellamy Blake was a good guy, a good_ man. _Beneath all the quarterback bravado was this sensitive, loving guy who would never willingly part from his child._

_“I could talk to him,” he father offered._

_“And say what?” she challenged. “You don’t get it, Dad. You can’t just_ talk _to him. You can’t—you can’t fix this!” If it were that simple, she would have done it herself already. “Dad, if I have this baby, I ruin Bellamy’s whole life. All his dreams and plans . . . they’re just gone because of me. And the things you and Mom wanted for me, too, like going to med school . . .” Her bottom lip quivered as she shook her head. “I can’t do that if I have a baby. Who are we kidding? I can’t do anything.”_

_“Clarke.” Her dad swallowed hard, and even though he was trying to keep his tears inside just like she was, she saw that his eyes had begun to shimmer. “I need you to stop and think about this,” he said. He sounded . . . desperate._

_“What do you think I’ve been doing?” she said. “It’s_ all _I think about. It never stops.” She wasn’t an idiot; she knew that, even if she did have an abortion, she’d still think about it a lot. But not all the time. It wouldn’t be so constant like this. “But if I just do this, then Bellamy never even has to know,” she said, picturing the simplicity of such a secret. “No one does. Just you and me and Mom. We—we don’t ever have to tell anybody.” It would be so easy to just keep it to themselves. They were family, after all. They could trust each other. “You wouldn’t tell, right, Daddy?” she pleaded, trying to appeal to him by calling him that. “You wouldn’t tell anyone.”_

_It looked like it physically pained him to assure her, “No, of course I wouldn’t. But Clarke--”_

_“It could just be our secret. And we don’t ever even have to talk about it again. We can just pretend it never happened,” she said, talking herself into it more and more by the second. “Even if we still think about it, we don’t have to talk about it, and that way, it’s just done. It just over, and we all can all move on.”_

_“Clarke . . .” Her dad began to cry, something she had rarely ever seen him do. And it broke her heart. “Please think about this, honey,” he begged. “Please.”_

_“No, I have.” She hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, because she’d just lain awake contemplating all the pros and cons, making mental maps of all these different paths in front of her and imagining where they could lead. “I’ve thought about it, and I feel bad, but I’m not ready to be a mom.” Her own mother had been right all along, hadn’t she? She just wasn’t ready for this. “I wouldn’t be a good one.”_

_“You don’t know that,” her father said. “I think you’d be great.”_

_“No, I wouldn’t,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t.” Great moms didn’t even think about having abortions, did they? Great moms took pregnancy tests and were happy to see a positive result. “So I have to do this,” she decided, picturing one path in front her now. Just one. “I have to get rid of this baby.” With the decision made, she felt a newfound sense of conviction, and that was, in a strange sense, a relief. At least now she knew what she was going to do._

_“Clarke!” he yelled after her as she turned and fled his office. But she didn’t stop or even turn back around, because she knew he was going to try to get her to change her mind. But she wasn’t going to. This was happening. No turning back now._

****

“You did always know,” Clarke whispered into the phone.

“What?” her dad said.

“Oh, um . . . nothing,” she said, pulling herself out of her thoughts. She yanked open the refrigerator and looked around inside, though she didn’t feel quite as hungry anymore. Maybe brunch could wait an hour or two. It wouldn’t throw her routine off _too_ much.

Her dad must not have heard her clearly, because he went right ahead and asked, “So when do you think I’ll get to see my granddaughter again?”

“Uh, pretty soon, probably,” she said, closing the fridge. “You know, Bellamy’s kind of busy with his new job, but . . . we can probably come visit next weekend or something. If we’re up to it.” She didn’t want to commit to anything and then feel bad if they had to cancel.

“Sure,” he said. “Or Alyssa and I could come visit you.”

“Yeah, we’ll play it by ear,” she said. “Nothing has to be set in stone.” She heard what sounded like a car pulling up out front, so she peered out the window, expecting it to be Murphy. But that wasn’t Murphy’s car. Murphy’s was actually . . . nicer.

“You know I’m not into the Instagram or Twitter or anything like that,” her dad was saying. “But Alyssa keeps showing me all the pictures and videos you’ve been posting. I saw the bath one. Must’ve watched it a dozen times.”

“Yeah, me, too.” She closed the kitchen blinds when she saw, of all people—of _all_ people—Finn get out of the car. He had a cigarette in his mouth and a nervous look on his face. “Hey, Dad, I have to let you go,” she said quickly. “Somebody’s here.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. “Maybe we can talk later.”

“Sure. Bye.” She ended the call quickly and scurried into the living room to mute the television. Maybe she could just pretend not to be home? Would Finn actually fall for that?

Tiptoeing towards the front door, she leaned in close and looked through the peephole, watching as he came forward. He at least had the decency to put out his cigarette, but then for some reason, he tried to smooth out his hair before he knocked on the door, too. As though that would do him any favors or make him look any more impressive.

“Clarke?” he called. “Can I come in?”

_No_ , she thought stubbornly. He had no reason to be there. Unfortunately, Avery made some sounds from upstairs, and they came through loud and clear over her phone. She wasn’t sure whether Finn could hear anything from the other side of the door or not, but for some reason, that made her feel _obligated_ to open the door. So, reluctantly, she did.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, standing in the doorway, trying to keep him from seeing anything inside. Sure, Avery wasn’t downstairs, but one of her baby blankets was. Some of her toys were.

“Nice to see you, too, Clarke,” he said sarcastically.

“What do you want?” She wasn’t going to stand there and waste time. They were going to cut to the chase, even though she felt like she already knew why he was there.

He confirmed it when he answered, “To see my daughter. Or is that too much to ask?”

_Is it?_ Clarke wondered. She wasn’t sure. If only Bellamy had been there. He probably would have told Finn off. “She’s sleeping,” she told him, pocketing her phone just so he couldn’t catch sight of her on the baby monitor.

“That’s okay,” he said.

Clarke frowned, narrowing her eyes at him, and pointedly reminded him, “She’s not _your_ daughter. I mean . . . it takes more than that.” She was _Bellamy’s_ daughter. Everybody knew that.

“I just wanna see her,” Finn said, sounding . . . remarkably sincere. “Can I come in?”

God, she felt so indecisive, like no matter what decision she made, it was going to be the wrong one. Part of her wanted to just slam that door in his face, but instead, she stepped aside and said, “Yeah.” Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but . . . was it wrong? Whether she liked it or not, Finn _was_ Avery’s biological father. She wouldn’t have even existed without him. “Look, I don’t know what you’re up to,” she said, “but--”

“I’m not up to anything,” he said. “There’s a little girl in this world who’s half me, and I’ve never even gotten to see her face to face. I’ve never gotten to hold her.”

_Because you haven’t wanted to_ , she thought. But he was here now, so . . . maybe that was a lie.

“I came to the hospital, you know, right after she was born,” he said. “Did Bellamy tell you that?”

“Yeah.” She was glad she hadn’t had to deal with him then. It’d been better to just be able to focus on Avery.

“And did he tell you he made me leave?”

She nodded. “Yep.” She still supported that decision of his, and she wasn’t going to let Finn make either her or him feel bad about it.

“And you were okay with that?”

She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? Bellamy’s my partner in all of this.”

Finn made a face, as if he had the _audacity_ to be offended by that.

Starting to feel heated, she began lashing out a bit, because really, didn’t he kind of deserve it? “He’s the guy who’s raising Avery. Not you,” she told him. “Because you made it pretty damn clear you wanted nothing to do with us. Remember that? Remember when I told you I was pregnant and you told me to get an abortion?”

His eyebrows shot upward. “I would think you of all people would understand that.”

Maybe she’d set herself up for a snide little comment like that, but that still didn’t mean she had to just stand there and take it. “No. No, don’t even _try_ to act like it’s the same thing,” she growled. “I was sixteen. You’re—what, twenty three now? You’re supposed to be an adult, Finn.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a folded envelop and handed it over to her. “I wanted to give you this.”

She felt like she didn’t even have to open it to know what it was, but since it wasn’t sealed, she reached in and pulled out a check. For one-hundred measly dollars. “Child support?” she grunted.

“Yeah. It’s all I can afford right now.”

A hundred bucks hardly covered anything. He had no idea how expensive babies even were, did he? “I don’t want your money,” she said, shoving it back at him, too proud to take what he had to offer.

“Please--”

“I don’t _need_ your money,” she repeated, literally pressing the envelop against his chest. “We’re doing fine.”

He sadly took it back, folded the envelope again, and put it back in his pocket. “Then please . . . _please_ just let me see her,” he begged.

_No_ , was her immediate, gut reaction. But she also found herself wondering, _Should I?_ Maybe he wasn’t really asking for much. Or maybe it was too much. She wasn’t sure.

“I feel guilty,” he admitted quietly. “I thought you’d understand that, too.”

She winced inwardly. Despite knowing _exactly_ what he was trying to do—playing on her own insecurities, using her own feelings against her—she felt herself giving in. “Just for a couple minutes,” she said. This wasn’t going to be some big, extended visit. She was just going to let him see her, and then he’d have to leave.

It felt so weird having Finn in her house, leading him upstairs, letting him in to Avery’s nursery. He seemed out of place, like he just didn’t belong there. Because he didn’t. He looked awkward, walked with his hands in his pockets, and when she opened the door to the nursery, he looked shocked to see it for the first time. The last time he’d seen that room, it’d been empty.

“Wow,” he said. “Who did all of this?”

“Bellamy,” she replied. Who else?

Finn’s attention didn’t linger on his surroundings for long. Once he laid eyes on Avery in her crib, he walked right up to her and gazed down in awe. “That’s her?” he said. “She’s so small.”

Clarke stood beside him, feeling protective of her little girl, even though it wasn’t like Finn was going to do anything to hurt her. “She’s normal-sized,” she informed him. At her last doctor’s appointment, they’d found out she was right within the average weight range.

Finn gripped the edge of her crib, his fingers moving slightly as if he wanted to reach down and touch her. “What color are her eyes?” he asked.

Of course he didn’t know that. But Bellamy did. Bellamy had always known. “Blue,” she told him. “Like mine.” For some reason, it mattered to her that Avery had gotten that from her and not from him. It was too early to see what color her hair would end up being, but right now, what little was there was sort of a dirty blonde. Hopefully that didn’t darken as time wore on. Because that would obviously have come from Finn. But Bellamy had dark hair, too, so . . . maybe they could just pretend.

“She’s beautiful,” Finn said, looking at her in awe. Genuine awe. She couldn’t take that away from him. “Do you think she knows I’m here?”

What kind of question was that? She sure as hell hoped not. “I don’t . . . I don’t know,” she answered unsurely.

Finn reached down to stroke her cheek with his thumb, and Clarke noticed that they had the same skin tone. The _exact_ same. “Can I hold her?” he asked.

_Oh, god_. Her stomach clenched. Was that too much? Or maybe, if she let him do that, he’d have his fill of fatherhood for one lifetime and leave? “She just fell asleep,” she told him, feeling powerless to stop it as he already had begun reaching down into the crib to pick her up, “so try not to wake her.” In a way, it would have been great if he did, though, if Avery would just start crying and squirming and reaching out for her mom.

“Wow,” Finn said, smiling as he held her. She was still and quiet. “Hi, sweetie,” he said. “It’s me. It’s your dad.”

_No, it’s not_ , Clarke thought in protest. She didn’t want Avery to hear things like that and then think they were true.

“Sorry it took me so long to show up,” he apologized to her. “I just wasn’t sure . . .” He gulped, blinked away tears that were way too convincing to just be an act, and then said, “But I wanted to see you. Do you wanna see me?”

_No, she doesn’t_ , Clarke thought. But Avery must have had other ideas, because slowly, she opened her tired little eyes.

Finn practically gasped. “She’s looking right at me,” he said.

That meant she could see him. Clarke had done her fair share of reading and YouTube watching to know that babies could see details of faces at a month old, as long as they were close enough. Focusing was still hard, but they were already starting to be able to make out who was who. And Finn’s face wasn’t one she wanted Avery to see. This was starting to feel very wrong, and she felt compelled to put a stop to it. “I told you not to wake her up,” she said. “Here, give her to me.” She took her daughter back from him and held her close, head against her shoulder. “Now she’ll probably wanna feed again,” she said, even though she knew enough about their routine to know that that wouldn’t be the case. “Look, I think you should just . . . you should just go,” she told him.

Finn immediately started to whine. “But . . .”

“You wanted to see her, and you got to see her. Right?” That was probably already more than he deserved.

It took him a moment to suck it up and mutter, “Right.” But at least he didn’t put up too much of a fight. In fact, he actually respected her wishes and headed out. “Bye, Avery,” he said as he left the nursery. He seemed reluctant to tear his eyes away from her, but eventually he did.

Clarke stood there with her baby, holding her and patting her back while she listened to Finn’s footsteps as he walked downstairs. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard that front door open and then close again, then pushed the curtains aside and peeked out just long enough to see him driving off. She’d expected to feel an overwhelming sense of relief once he was gone, but he didn’t. In fact, she still felt tense. Probably because this wasn’t over. Sure, Finn had left, but now she had to do something she _really_ didn’t want to do. She had to tell Bellamy he’d been there.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Napping wasn’t an option. Nope. Not after what had happened that morning. Clarke dwelled on it, to the point, even, where she thought about calling Bellamy and asking him to come home early. But she refrained, because she knew he’d scheduled a long practice with the team. He’d said it was going to be a grueling but important one, and she didn’t want to interrupt. So she went through her normal routine with Avery, minus the naps on her end, and waited not so patiently for him to get home.

When he walked in the front door, she was right there, ready to spill her guts about everything. “Hey,” he said, giving her a quick kiss.

“Hey.” _Go for it_ , she told herself. She’d rehearsed it several times today, thought about how she could tell him what had happened without upsetting him too much. Hopefully.

“How was your day?” he asked her as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Good,” she said, even though that wasn’t completely true. “It was . . . good.” The temptation to just _not_ say anything was so strong. After all, she was used to keeping a secret.

“How’s Avery?” he asked. It never took him long to ask about her.

“She’s fine,” Clarke said, wishing she’d gone and woken her up so that she, too, could greet her daddy as he walked in the door. “She missed you,” she made sure to add. Because it felt important to say that.

“I missed her,” he said. Wandering into the kitchen, he started telling her about how practice had gone, but she was only halfway listening. “Came up with some new plays today, though,” he said. “Now we just gotta see if the guys can handle ‘em.”

_You have to tell him_ , she reminded herself. Another secret wouldn’t help anything.

“You know, it’s like they just expect to lose. Like they’re resigned to it,” Bellamy grabbed a carton of milk out of the fridge. As he poured himself a glass, he continued, “And when they walk into a game with that kind of mentality, all defeated and shit, no wonder they can’t even put up a fight. Back when I was playing, we always--”

“Bellamy, I need to tell you something,” she cut in, knowing that, if she let him talk for too long, she’d lose her nerve and just end up having to tell him later. And the longer she waited, the shadier it seemed.

He immediately looked . . . alert. But he stayed relatively calm as he put the milk back in the fridge and closed it. “Okay,” he said. “What is it?”

_Oh, you’re not gonna like it_ , she thought, cringing inwardly. But he had to know. “Finn came by today,” she blurted out.

Bellamy expression changed into one of surprise. “Oh, really?” he said. But he still didn’t sound worked up. “Why?”

He must have already known. It had to be obvious. But maybe he didn’t quite want to believe it. “To see Avery,” she replied.

He fell silent for a moment, looked down at the floor, then slowly looked back up and met her eyes. “Did you let him?”

_Oh, god_. She sort of wished she _had_ just slammed the door in his face. But then he probably just would have come back tomorrow or the day after, and that would have been just as stressful. “Well, I wasn’t going to,” she said. “But then I just felt . . . bad for some reason. I felt like I _had_ to let him see her.”

He didn’t say anything, but she saw something flash through his eyes. Just for a second or two. He looked worried.

“It was only for a few minutes. Like two, maybe,” she tried to reassure him. “She was sleeping, so he just watched her for a minute and then held her and . . .” She stopped abruptly when she noticed him avert his eyes upon hearing that. She knew that he had to be picturing it in that moment, Finn holding Avery, her being in his hands. “And then I told him he had to leave. That was it,” she said. And that really _was_ it. No secrecy, no lies. She wanted to be totally and completely honest and upfront with him about everything. “Oh, and he tried to pay child support,” she tacked on, “but I told him we don’t need it.”

Bellamy nodded slowly, as if he was taking everything in, then said, “Good.”

She needed more than that, though. She needed him to _say_ more. “Are you mad at me?” she questioned.

“No,” he answered quickly, much to her relief. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well, because you turned him away at the hospital,” she reminded him. Not that he probably needed a reminder.

“Yeah. And you said you trusted me to make that decision,” he recalled. “So I trust you, too.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, and all the nervousness that had accumulated throughout the day started to dissipate. “But if you’re upset, we can still talk about it,” she told him. If they needed to have a serious conversation, that was totally understandable.

“It’s fine, babe,” he assured her. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not mad.”

He seemed a little tense, maybe caught off guard, but . . . yeah, he definitely wasn’t mad. And that definitely made her relax a little. “Okay,” she said. “Good. That’s a relief.” She’d probably wasted her whole day getting all worked up when she hadn’t needed to. “And maybe now that he’s seen her, he won’t come by anymore. Got it out of his system.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agreed. He took a look at the glass of milk he’d just poured for himself, made a bit of a face, then said, “You know, it was really hot out today, and I had to demo some plays, so I think I might go take a shower.”

“Alright. I can get dinner ready,” she offered.

“Sounds good.” He eased past her, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze, and that one, simple touch made her feel so much better. About everything. If he’d wanted to, he could have gotten angry at her for inviting Finn in today without talking to him about it first, for letting him see and hold Avery. But he trusted her, even after she’d kept something life-altering from him for years. And he loved her. A lot.

Clarke fully intended to whip up something tasty—or at least as tasty as she could manage—but as she was searching through her cabinets for ingredients to make _something_ , she kept waiting to hear the shower start upstairs. And she never did. Either Bellamy was taking a while to get out of his clothes, or he’d gotten sidetracked. She had a feeling it was the latter, and she also had a feeling she knew exactly what, or rather _who_ , had sidetracked him.

Deciding that dinner could wait, Clarke walked upstairs quietly and went to the nursery. The door was open, and the light was on, and when she looked in there, she saw that Bellamy was holding Avery, who had woken up and was smiling up at him while he smiled down at her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, holding her close to his chest. “Yeah, Daddy’s home.”

Clarke felt tears sting her eyes. Mostly the happy kind. Even if Finn hadn’t stopped by today, Bellamy probably would have made a pit-stop at Avery’s crib before jumping into the shower. He loved spending time with her. But today, seeing him hold her felt even more significant, even more poignant. It just looked so . . . right. Meant to be. Avery and her dad. Her one and only.


	73. Chapter 73

_Chapter 73_

Arkadia’s local Dollar General wasn’t exactly known for having a wide selection of groceries, and sometimes it just lacked the products Clarke needed altogether. Like a new hair straightener. Not that she chose to straighten her hair a lot, but if she got the urge to, it’d be nice to have a straightener on hand that actually worked. Even though she couldn’t find one at that store, though, she kept walking down each aisle, just browsing more than anything at that point. Once in a while, she’d find something, decide she wanted it, and load it into her cart, in which Avery was nestled snuggly in her portable carrier. She didn’t seem to have much interest at all in their little shopping excursion.

She’d forgotten (or perhaps she’d just never known) that Jasper worked at Dollar General. He showed up for work after she’d only been there for a few minutes and stopped and talked to her for a bit. Apparently he was working there full-time that summer. He looked . . . actually kind of professional clad in a black polo and matching black jeans. He must not have been the world’s greatest employee, though, because whenever his boss told him to do something, she sort of squawked out an orders at him, but none of the other workers got that same tone.

Clarke lost track of time as she perused each aisle, then perused some more. She even ended up in the pet aisle at one point, despite not having a pet. By the time she’d wandered back up to the undergarments section, Avery had fallen asleep.

Jasper was stocking shelves not too far away, but when he saw her again, he stopped what he was doing and approached her. “Hey, Clarke?”

“Hey,” she said. “Do you guys have maternity bras?” All the stuff at this store was super affordable, but none of it would be big enough for her boobs right now.

“Uh, no. Sorry,” he said. “Maybe try Target.”

“Can’t,” she said. “Finn works there.” After last week, she was hoping to keep her distance from him whenever possible.

“Walmart maybe?” Jasper suggested.

“It’s fine. I’ll just keep looking,” she decided. Hell, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do with her day.

“You’ve been looking for ninety minutes,” Jasper informed her as she started to push her cart away again.

She stopped, turned back around, and looked at him incredulously. “Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah.”

_He’s exaggerating_ , was her first thought, but when he whipped out his phone and showed her the time, she realized it really had been that long. Nobody stayed in Dollar General for more than ninety _seconds_ unless they had to, and here she was at the hour and a half mark. “Oh my god, I lost track of time,” she said, hoping to play it off as nothing even though it was evidence of her pure, all-consuming boredom.

Jasper gave her a curious look, and that made her snap at him. “Okay, listen, don’t judge me, alright?” she said. “I’m trapped at home day in and day out with a baby who, yes, I love more than life itself, but who also doesn’t know how to hold a conversation yet.” Feeling herself start to unravel a bit, she whimpered and didn’t even try to hide it as she confessed to him, “I’m going crazy. I have to get out of the house once in a while, or I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Of course,” Jasper said. “That makes sense. You got cabin fever. So if you wanna roam the aisles of this fabulous retail establishment, have at it.”

She frowned, wallowing in her own pathetic-ness for a moment. How sad was it that pushing a cart around a crappy store was fun for her these days? Maybe she hadn’t come in for a hair straightener at all. Maybe deep down, she’d just been desperate to go somewhere and do something. “It’s just that everyone I know is busy. Including my boyfriend,” she lamented. “So it’s just me and Avery most of the time, and it gets really, really boring. And repetitive.” Their routines were important, even necessary, but sometimes she felt like she needed to switch things up a bit.

“Well, hey, if you want some excitement, Maya and I are goin’ to that new club tonight,” Jasper told her. “You and Bellamy could come with us.”

She made a face and echoed, “New club?” What the hell was he even talking about?

“Yeah. Sanctum.”

She tried to remember if she’d heard anything about that, but nothing came to mind. “We have a new club in this town now? Like a _nightclub_?” she spat, throwing her arms in the air exasperatedly. “When did this happen? Where have I been?”

“In Mom mode,” Jasper said, smirking at Avery.

“I can’t believe I didn’t even--” She whirled her hands around dramatically in front of her face, unable to even vocalize her thoughts. “I’m over it,” she decided hastily. “You know what? Bellamy and I are trying to have couple time at least once a week. So it’s a date. A double date. _We_ . . . will you see you guys at Sandstorm.”

“Sanctum,” Jasper corrected.

“Whatever.”

He chuckled and said, “Alright, cool. Invite Raven and everyone else, too, if you want. The more the merrier.”

Clarke smiled at him as his boss yelled at him to get back to work. She was thankful for the invite, because honestly, her social life was pretty restricted these days, and Bellamy’s wasn’t exactly popping, either. She’d never been the type who liked to go out and do something every night of the week, but once in a while, it was definitely a good time.

****

_Raven was relentless, even over the phone. “Come on, Clarke,” she urged. “The more the merrier.”_

_Clarke plopped down in her desk chair and gave her the same response. Yet again. “I can’t.”_

_“Why not?” Raven challenged. “It’s the end of summer. Do you really have anything more important going on?”_

_It was almost eerily fitting that she phrased it that way. Not something_ better _going on, but_ more important. _Clarke cast a sideways glance at her computer screen, and a site all about abortions glared back at her. “I have to do something,” she said, hating that she didn’t even feel comfortable telling her best friend in the world the truth. “With my parents. Family day.” She winced when she added on that last part, because . . . well, it_ was _going to be a day about family. A family she’d never have._

_“On your last weekend of freedom?” Raven kept on. “When there’s a beach party going on?”_

_“Yeah.” Her mom had scheduled the appointment for her, and it was up in Baltimore. By the time she got back, the beach party would already be going on, and she’d obviously be in no mood to party. Plus, it was going to take her a few days to recover. It was, after all, technically a surgery._

_“Well, just tell them the whole cheerleading squad’s required to be there,” Raven said._

_“So lie?” she surmised._

_“Pretty much.”_

But I’m already doing that, _she thought sadly, gripping her phone tightly in her hand._ To you. To everyone.

To Bellamy.

_“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I just . . . I can’t make it.”_

_Raven sighed heavily, but finally, she let up on her coercion. That didn’t mean the conversation was over, though. “Clarke,” she said. “What is this really about? Is it Bellamy?”_

_She looked down at her stomach and mumbled, “Sort of.” Whatever was in that womb of hers was halfway him._

_“Listen, I know you miss him,” Raven said, “but the high school experience doesn’t just have to end for you now that he’s graduated. You can still come hang out and have a lot of fun. I promise.”_

But I can’t, _Clarke thought. She realized there was no way that Raven or anyone else could possibly understand why there weren’t going to be any beach days in the near future for her, or why she was probably going to end up being the least cheerful member of the cheerleading squad this year. What she was dealing with was so much bigger than just a break-up, but to anyone outside her family, it probably just seemed like she was moping._

_“You have fun, okay?” Clarke told her friend. “Tell everyone I said hi.” She ended the call quickly, before Raven could give it one last attempt at convincing her, then turned her phone off altogether so she could get back to reading about something that wasn’t fun at all._

****

Despite the fact that it was all a little short-notice, Clarke was able to arrange babysitting for Avery. Her mom and Kane were more than willing and even came over to their house instead of making them bring Avery over. That meant that she and Bellamy were able to meet up with Jasper and Maya at Sanctum around 8:00, which, despite being Clarke’s preferred bedtime these days, was right when the club opened. They sat down in a booth with them and talked for a long time. Mostly, Jasper and Maya wanted to ask them about Avery. Bellamy showed them a lot of pictures, each one somehow cuter than the last, and Clarke told them all about their daily routine. Which wasn’t all that thrilling, because even though she was slightly more alert these days, Avery still spent most of her time napping and pooping.

As much as she loved talking about her little girl, Clarke also wanted to shift _out_ of mom mode for the night. So she wanted to know what Jasper and Maya were up to. Quite a bit, as it turned out, because they were talking about possibly moving in together and were looking at apartments. One of the places they liked best was close to Monty and Harper. And all four of them were thinking about taking a vacation at the end of the summer, possibly to Mexico. When Bellamy found out about that, he immediately started telling them about how he had lived there prior to going to Europe, and he impressed them with some highly inappropriate Spanish slang words.

It didn’t really start to get crowded or exciting around there until 10:00, and that was when Raven and Murphy finally showed up. Raven’s body looked _unfair_ in a black crop top and orange leather skirt. Just seeing her made Clarke suck in her stomach a bit.

The more people showed up, the more packed the dance floor became, and eventually, Clarke got to the point where she was tired of sitting around and talking. She wanted to dance, too, even if she didn’t look as flashy and hot as Raven. So when Jasper and Maya got up to hit the dance floor, she pulled Bellamy out there, too, leaving Raven and Murphy to make out and keep tabs on their table.

She didn’t know any of the songs the DJ was playing, but it didn’t really matter. She danced anyway, as best she could in the dress she’d chosen to wear, and Bellamy danced with her, twirling her around sometimes, then pulling her close so he could press his body close to hers. He didn’t really move around very much, but he didn’t have to. He could just stand there with his hands on her hips, gaze down at her intently, and still be the most smoldering man in the room.

When he spun her around, either she pressed her hips backward or he pressed his forward, because she ended up rubbing up against a bulge in his jeans. It wasn’t noticeable enough that someone could see it in a darkened club, but since she was so close to it, she could _feel_ it. And it felt good. Smiling dazedly, the flung her head to the side, letting it rest back against his shoulder, and then reached up and behind her head to tangle one of her hands in his hair. The music pulsated around them, and if she knew Arkadia as well as she suspected she did, there were probably a few people watching them. Maybe even staring. Some people probably thought it was wrong for them to be out and about while their baby was at home, but Clarke didn’t give a rat’s ass what they thought anymore. She and Bellamy were good parents. But they were still young and very much in love, too, and they needed nights like this.

For a few songs in a row, they danced without stopping, until Clarke started to feel hot and decided they should go sit back down. She wasn’t sure whether it was Bellamy who was making her feel hot or just the fact that Sanctum was small and practically the entire college population had shown up that night. Or maybe her hormones were still out of whack and she was having a hot flash. Hard telling.

“This is fun,” she said as she and Bellamy wove through the crowd.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Even though I can’t dance for shit.”

“You’re not so bad,” she assured him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah, I figure, if I just twirl you around, you’ll look hot enough for both of us,” he said, grinning. “You do look hot, by the way.”

She felt her cheeks heat up a bit and knew she was blushing, but he wouldn’t be able to see it in the club. “Had to squeeze into this dress,” she mumbled, tugging down on the bottom of it. It’d ridden up a bit when she and Bellamy had been . . . well, not really _grinding_ , but . . . whatever was one step below that.

“It looks good,” he said, with drawing his hand from hers so he could give her a little pat on the ass. She yelped in delight and slid back into the booth.

Raven and Murphy had their tongues shoved down each other’s throats but pulled away when Bellamy and Clarke sat back down. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the dancing machines,” Raven said. “Care to explain how you two have so much energy?”

“Redbull,” Bellamy blurted. “I drank six.”

“And I drank copious amounts of coffee,” Clarke added.

“You can drink coffee when you’re breastfeeding?” Raven asked.

“Yeah. Just not energy drinks. Or alcohol.” She pouted as she looked at the shots lined up in front of her friends. Not that she wanted to get shit-faced or anything, but just being able to have one drink would have been nice.

“Well, you could,” Bellamy said. “In moderation.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna risk it.” Even if doing a shot or two would have helped her feel all young and carefree again, it wasn’t worth it if there was even a chance it could harm Avery.

“It’s okay,” Murphy said. “Bellamy can drink for both of you.”

“Sure can.” Bellamy finished off the rest of his beer, then wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand and said, “In fact, I’m gonna go get a refill. You guys want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Murphy said, and Raven also shook her head to decline. Bellamy got up and headed over to the bar, and Clarke scooted closer to the edge of the seat so she could lean out of the booth a bit and see him. Bellamy was so hot without even trying. Even when he was just walking, he took these confident strides, and it was sexy as hell.

“So, Clarke, what do you think of this place?” Raven asked her.

“It’s nice,” she replied. “Definitely a wilder time than Eligius. Less cockroach-y than Dropship used to be. I like it. And it gives me an excuse to make my man dance.”

Murphy cringed. “He’s not the greatest dancer.”

“Oh, and what, you are?” she shot back.

“No,” he admitted. “But at least I put in some hip action.”

“Oh, trust me, Bellamy’s hip action is just fine.” She glanced up at the bar, appreciating the view as he leaned forward over the counter, waving to get the bartender’s attention. “Better than fine, actually.” She felt herself start to get all turned on as her eyes locked onto his ass. He was, like, the only guy whose backside she’d ever bothered to ogle. It was just such a damn sexy one.

“I’ll be back,” she announced, fearing she might start to salivate if she just kept sitting there staring at him. She got up from the table, made her way towards him, and hugged him from behind, sliding her thumbs into his front belt loops. “I missed you,” she said.

“I’ve only been gone a minute,” he pointed out.

“A minute too long.” She wanted to be pressed up against his body again. Even with all their clothes in the way, it still worked her up. In a good way.

“Well, this bartender’s crap. He hasn’t even noticed me,” Bellamy complained. “I’m about to hop over the counter and pour myself a drink.”

“Or . . .” She tugged on his hand, smiling flirtatiously. “You could just forget about all this and come play with me.”

Bellamy’s eyes took on a glint of mischief, and he smirked. “Well, when you put it like that . . .” He allowed her to lead him back out onto the dance floor, where they fell into the beat of a slower song. Not prom night slow or anything, but still slow enough that she felt like wrapping her arms around his neck. His found her hips again, and she really hoped he wasn’t feeling her love handles. They weren’t hugely noticeable, but she’d never really had to deal with them before. If he felt anything extra, he didn’t give any indication that he minded.

The dancing was great and all, but the more they danced, the more she wanted to do more than dancing. Their options were definitely limited, though. Not to mention, they hadn’t done anything super sexual since before . . . well, before his proposal.

Much as she tried to contain them, the words that must have been obvious fell out of her mouth on their own accord: “I feel horny, Bellamy.”

“You feel . . .” He stopped moving altogether, but his hands were still on her hips. He looked at her with surprise, and she wondered how the dancing hadn’t clued him in. Was it really that shocking for her to say she was horny these days? Sure, the last few weeks of pregnancy had been a bit of a dry spell, but before that, she’d still been down to fuck.

“Whoa,” he said, sounding stunned. “What does that mean? Are you saying you wanna . . .”

“No. It hasn’t been six weeks yet.” She had a countdown on her phone going, and according to it, she had about six days, nineteen hours, and thirty-two minutes before she was medically allowed to do _that_ again.

“Right.” He looked disappointed, but like he was trying to conceal it.

“Besides, I don’t even know if I _have_ a vagina anymore,” she lamented. The other day, she’d made the mistake of using a mirror to look down there and had immediately wished she hadn’t. To her, it looked so different, and it definitely felt different.

“Clarke . . .” He rubbed his hands up and down her sides, and she could tell he was preparing to reassure her _yet again_ that she was beautiful and that her body looked great and that, when the time came for them to sleep together again, it was going to be just as amazing as ever. But he must have been tired of doing that by now. And she was still pretty fucking horny.

“But maybe . . . I could do something for you,” she proposed, lifting her eyes from his crotch to his face, eager to gauge his reaction.

“What, like . . .” He trailed off, but when she just grinned at him, his eyebrows shot upward in . . . either excitement or disbelief. “Are you serious?”

She nodded, sliding her hands down his chest and stomach so they could hook into his belt loops again. She pulled his hips close to hers, close enough that she could feel that bulge again, steadily getting bigger.

“Okay,” he said, looking around. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds . . . I’m cool with that.”

If she’d been more daring, she would have just dropped down to her knees right there to suck him off, but she wouldn’t have even done that _before_ motherhood, let alone after. It was the kind of thing she dreamt about, though, just going absolutely wild with him, letting go of all her inhibitions.

“Let’s just go to the bathroom,” he suggested, grabbing her hand and practically running her off the dance floor. He definitely seemed to feel like there was a sense of urgency, like he had to capitalize on this moment before it passed. So even when they got to the restrooms and saw a line of women outside the ladies room, he wasn’t deterred from his bathroom idea. In fact, he shrugged and tried to lead her towards the men’s room.

“Uh-uh, I am _not_ doing that in the men’s bathroom,” she protested, withdrawing her hand from his. It was probably gross in there to start out with, and she wasn’t going to do that with other guys around.

“Okay,” he said, quickly coming up with another idea. “The car then?”

She nodded eagerly, feeling like the car would work. It wasn’t middle of the dance floor public, but it was still . . . convenient. And sort of semi-public, which had always turned her on.

Once again, Bellamy took her hand, and he raced back through the club with her in tow. Murphy asked, “Where you guys goin’?” as they rushed by, but Bellamy just yelled back, “Don’t worry about it!”

Of course the car had sounded like a good idea in theory, but when they actually opened up the door to the backseat, they both felt like idiots, because there was Avery’s car seat taking up all the space they would need.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot about that,” Bellamy groaned, dragging one hand through his hair as if he were really, truly distraught about yet another setback. “Well, I guess we can just squeeze in the front, do it there.”

“But what if there’s not enough room?” she fretted. “I already feel huge enough as it is.”

“No, you can just lean over the gearshift and . . .”

“It’s too cramped,” she said, looking in the window. She was _not_ feeling a blowjob in the front seat of the car.

Bellamy looked devastated that she wasn’t on board. “Alright, you know what? Let’s just go home,” he decided. “We can do it there.”

“But my parents are there with Avery,” she reminded him. “By the time we get them to leave _and_ tuck her in for the night, what if the horniness is gone? And what if the caffeine wears off by then, too?” If they were gonna do this, she felt like it was imperative they do it _now_.

With yet another idea shot down, he sighed and said, “Alright, let’s go back inside then.” He grabbed her hand and hustled her back through the parking lot.

“What do you expect me to do, just drop down under the table?” she asked.

“Well, I mean . . . if you want to.”

She gave him an exasperated look. No, she really didn’t want to. That didn’t sound spacious or comfortable.

“Look, we’ll just find a dark corner or something,” he said. “Raven can be lookout. Just like high school.” He grinned, and that made her laugh despite the fact that she felt like their very small window for sexy times was rapidly closing in on them.

When they got back to the club, there was a line hanging out the door, people waiting to be let in, but Bellamy paid them no mind and marched Clarke right to the front of that line to get back in. The doorman, however, had a major stick up his ass and told them that wouldn’t be happening.

Bellamy, of course, was irate. “What do you mean you’re not letting us back in?” he roared. “Look, we’ve got handstamps. We were just in there.”

“Sorry.” The doorman didn’t actually _sound_ sorry, though. In fact, he just sort of halfway shrugged and sounded like he was reciting a script when he said, “You leave the club, you get back in the line. It’s the policy.”

“But we didn’t know the policy!” Bellamy yelled.

“Well, you do now.”

_Oh, crap_ , Clarke thought, biting her lip nervously. If they didn’t find somewhere soon, then it was over. And poor Bellamy would have another date with his own hand later that night.

“Look, this is really important. I mean _really_ ,” he tried to emphasize. “We need to get back in this club. We’ve got a newborn baby. It’s date night. She’s feeling horny. Please, just let us back in.”

The doorman didn’t respond. Barely even blinked.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, giving his shoulder a little nudge. When she had his attention, she pointed across the street at a Wendy’s restaurant that had been in Arkadia just about longer than anything else in that town had. It was greasy and gross, but it had a spacious bathroom with a door that locked. And there wouldn’t be anyone standing out front telling them they couldn’t get in.

That gleam of mischief returned to Bellamy’s eyes, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was: It was perfect.

The restaurant wasn’t crowded—in fact, it was probably close to closing time—but there were a few people eating a late dinner and a couple of workers behind the counter. They all must have thought Bellamy and Clarke looked like crazy people as they ran in the door and immediately swerved towards their destination. Bellamy didn’t even bother being polite as he squeezed past a woman who was on her way into the bathroom. “Hey, yeah, sorry, comin’ through,” he said, dragging Clarke with him.

“Hey, wait a minute!” the woman yelped in annoyance.

But Bellamy didn’t wait. He slammed the door shut and locked it into place.

“Oh my god, are we really doing this here?” Clarke wondered aloud, looking around. There was toilet paper on the floor, and the sink was dripping. Not exactly romance central.

“Yeah, sure,” Bellamy said. “Why not?” Grinning, he unfastened his jeans, adding, “It’s bigger than the janitor’s closet was.”

Her insides started to feel all fluttery when she remembered the fun they used to have in there, and she abandoned any remaining inhibitions and said, “Yeah, screw it.” There was no romance required for something like this.

Frantically, she helped Bellamy get his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out. He was so hard, and the tip of it was already shiny with pre-cum. She felt absolutely ravenous as she sank down to her knees and flicked her tongue against the head of it, collecting and tasting the moisture gathered there. _Damn_. It’d been a while. Not that she could ever forget what Bellamy tasted like or anything, but . . . she needed more.

Opening her mouth wide, she engulfed as much of him as she could, wrapping her hand tightly around the base of his length to keep it steady. He leaned back against the door, his head hitting with a thud, and didn’t bother even trying to be quiet. Instead, he opted to just let out these low, pleasured groans at regular intervals as she sucked on him. His dick throbbed in her mouth, and the taste and texture of it made her start to feel damp between her legs.

“Yeah,” he growled, his eyes falling closed. Only a few seconds later, though, he opened them again so he could look down at her. He liked to watch her do this, and it didn’t surprise her when he reached down and tangled his hand in her hair. He liked to do that, too, sometimes to urge her to go faster, and sometimes even to slow her down. But he didn’t guide her movements at all this time; he just let her do what he’d once taught her how to do, something she’d learned to do well.

It was such a rush to see, feel, and sense him losing control as she swirled her tongue around his cock, as she hallowed out her cheeks to apply even more suction and more pressure to him. His balls were drawn up tightly, so she massaged them gently with her free hand, just to add a little extra stimulation. Bellamy loved it when she played with those.

“Fuck, Clarke,” he swore as his breathing started to come in heavy, labored pants. It definitely wasn’t going to take much longer. The unique location and all the foreplay at Sanctum had built him up to the point of no return. He was going to lose it, and she reveled in the thought. Moving her mouth backward and forward along the length of his dick, she tried rubbing her thighs together, desperate for a little stimulation of her own.

Bellamy muttered something that sounded a lot like, “I’m gonna cum,” but he said the words so quickly that she could barely distinguish one from the other. Seconds later, though, he was shooting down the back of her throat, all hot and sticky and salty, and so distinctively _him_. She’d never exactly loved the taste of semen, but there was something so oddly intimate and emotional about receiving something like that from him. Because it was _for_ her, and _because_ of her. All because of her.

When she pulled away, releasing him from her mouth, she had to lick her lips to get every last remaining drop of him. He watched her through half-closed eyes, smiling dazedly, giving his cock a few slow strokes as it started to get limper. All she could do was laugh, because . . . it was ridiculous sneaking into a public bathroom like this. It really did feel like they were teenagers again, scrounging around for any little stashed away place in their school building that could satisfy as a quickie location. Oh, it was a good time, though. For just a few minutes, they were able to step out of parent mode and act like horny kids themselves again. Maybe there would come a time when they didn’t do things like this, when they had better reputations to uphold and were on the PTA or something. But tonight wasn’t that time.

They ended up heading home afterward, spending the drive talking and laughing about the faces of those customers and employees at Wendy’s. That woman who’d been about to use the bathroom had _not_ looked pleased when they’d walked out, but Clarke just . . . didn’t care. She really didn’t. After all the small-town gossip she’d endured the past couple months, she knew how to handle a judgmental glare or two.

When they walked in the door, they had to squash all blowjob conversation since her mom and Kane were there with Avery. They had her situated on the couch, propped up with pillows, and were making stuffed animals dance around in front of her face. “Oh, look who it is!” Abby exclaimed. “It’s Mommy and Daddy.”

“Hey, baby girl,” Clarke said, immediately scooping up her daughter. “We missed you.” That was true, of course. She always missed Avery when she wasn’t around her. But she’d also had a hell of a good time. “Has she been awake all night?” she asked her mom, concerned that her sleeping and feeding schedule would be all out of whack now.

“On and off,” her mom replied.

“She’s been very well-behaved,” Kane added.

“Yeah, she’s a good baby.” Clarke could tell just by looking at Avery that she wanted to be fed—straight from the boob, not from a bottle—and she knew that the sexy times for the night were most definitely over. Besides, Bellamy’s Redbulls were probably close to wearing off, and she could already feel the effects of her coffee beginning to fade. Once they hit the bed, it would be to sleep, not to fool around.

“How was the nightclub?” her mother inquired.

“It was great,” Clarke said. “I had fun.”

Her mom smiled at her, then turned to Bellamy and asked, “What about you?”

“Oh, I had so much fun,” he answered emphatically. Clarke had to stifle her laughter, because she knew exactly what fun he was referencing. It was probably best if her mom didn’t ask any further questions about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Now that Avery was awake a little more often, Bellamy wanted to take her out and about more. Sure, there had been simplicity in lugging a tired, sleeping baby places, but he liked getting to show her off to his friends and family. And it was a lot easier to do that when she had her eyes open.

Octavia was on a mission to be the best aunt, so he brought her over to her and Lincoln’s place on Saturday, dressed in an obnoxiously pink outfit that made Octavia roll her eyes. She still gushed about how cute she was, though, and held her and played with her for a while before she gave her back to Bellamy and went into the kitchen to warm up some leftover pizza for him.

“So Clarke went to the gym, huh?” she said as she pulled the slices out of the microwave, wincing at how hot they were.

“Yeah.” He put Avery’s little hands over her eyes for her and then pulled them away. She smiled excitedly when she saw his face again.

“Weird,” Octavia said as she came back to the couch with food in hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her there before.”

“Well, she doesn’t usually go,” he said. “But she’s on this whole body image kick ever since . . . well, you know.”

Octavia scoffed at that and took a bite of his pizza before handing the plate to him. “She looks fine.”

“That’s what I keep telling her.” He set the food aside, happy to let it cool off before he bit in.

“It’s understandable, though,” Octavia said. “I mean, not that I would know or anything, but I’d imagine after you’ve been pregnant for so long, your body doesn’t even feel like your body anymore. That’s gotta suck.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I just wish she wasn’t so hard on herself, you know?” Week after week now, he’d been searching for the right words to assure Clarke that she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him, that he couldn’t wait to have his hands all over her again. But no matter what he said, she still complained about her weight and insisted on going to the gym with Raven and Harper to get trimmed up. Even though she didn’t need to.

“I wonder if Avery’s gonna be the gym type,” Octavia mused, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “Or maybe she’ll take after Clarke and be all into art and singing.”

“Do you like art?” Bellamy asked his little girl. “Or singing?” Obviously he didn’t get a response, but he interpreted the silence anyway and informed Octavia, “She says yes.”

“Oh, does she now?”

“Yeah. I can understand her even when she doesn’t say anything. It’s a talent.” Maybe this was a stretch, but there were plenty of times when he did feel like he could tell what she was thinking or what she wanted, even without one sound or word. His senses were all very attuned to her, and he noticed so many little things.

“You probably can,” Octavia said. “God, look at you. You’re so . . . wholesome.”

“Haven’t I always been?” he asked with a smirk.

She laughed. “No. I mean, except with me and mom. But you’re, like, a _family man_ now. You’re so good with her.”

“Well, I try to be,” he said. “It’s not like I had a dad growing up to show me what to do.”

“Yeah.” Octavia frowned for a moment, but it didn’t last long. “Well, Avery’s got a dad,” she said. “That’s what matters.”

“Yep.” He liked this whole family man thing. It made him feel good about himself and about his life, like he was actually doing something worthwhile for a change. “It’s still Finn’s name on the birth certificate, though,” he mumbled, wondering how much that guy thought about Avery, or if he’d even thought about her at all ever since his impromptu visit.

“Yeah, but whose last name does she have?” Octavia pointed out.

“True.” That still meant more to him than Clarke would ever know. “I wish it was more official, though.”

“Official?” Octavia echoed.

“Yeah.” Right now, he felt like Avery was his daughter in name and in feeling only. But not legally.

“So adopt her,” his sister suggested. “Isn’t that what you wanna do?”

“Well, yeah, but . . .” He met Avery’s eyes, feeling like he was looking into the same shade of blue he saw in Clarke. “I just don’t wanna have any problems with that.”

“Ah,” Octavia said with a knowing nod. “Meaning you don’t want Finn to cause any problems. I doubt he will.”

“Still . . .” He had his worries, ones that he didn’t want to dwell on too much, because, quiet honestly, it freaked him the fuck out. “It’d probably be easier if Clarke and I were married.”

Again, Octavia offered up her advice so easily, as though it weren’t a huge deal to say, “So ask her to marry you.”

“I already did that,” he reminded her. “Worst day of my life, remember?”

“But that was then. This is now,” she said. “I’m sure she wouldn’t say no this time.”

It was good that she was sure, because part of him—a very small part—still wasn’t. He didn’t think he could handle another no, even if she was only saying no because she felt like she didn’t deserve it.

“You still wanna marry her, right?” Octavia asked.

“Yeah.” Of course he did. She was the love of his life, and the fact that marriage would make it easier to adopt Avery was an added benefit.

Octavia shrugged. “Then ask her again.”

Bellamy fell silent, already thinking about where he’d stashed that ring, the one he’d designed just for her and still longed to see on her finger. Octavia made it sound like it was no big deal to propose again, but . . . it was. It really was.


	74. Chapter 74

_Chapter 74_

Lugging around Avery’s baby carrier was kind of a hassle, but it was one Clarke was quickly becoming accustomed to. It wasn’t super heavy, but it was like a constant bulky accessory.

“So what did you think about Mommy & Me Yoga?” Clarke asked in her high-pitched baby voice as she situated Avery’s carrier on top of a chair at their table. This host of the restaurant had complimented how cute Avery was when they’d walked in. “Huh? Did you enjoy it?” she asked.

Avery didn’t respond, instead opting to squeeze her purple bunny. She had a good grip already.

“Yeah, me, neither,” Clarke said, abandoning her baby voice. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll just go for a walk.” For some reason, all the other moms at today’s yoga session had looked like fitness models. Their kids had been older than Avery by a couple months at least, and two of the women had even brought their toddlers, so it seemed likely that they’d just been attending the class longer. But that didn’t mean Clarke had had any easier of a time _not_ comparing her physique to theirs.

“Alright, I can find something to eat here . . . somehow,” she said, looking over the menu. “Maybe a nice salad.” Really, what she was craving was a burger, and they had a delicious looking one under the Main Course section, complete with golden French fries that looked perfectly crunchy and seasoned. But a salad would be healthier. “We can’t go to Wendy’s, ‘cause Mommy got banned for . . . reasons,” she added, a little more proud of that than she was embarrassed.

As Clarke looked through her options, she subconsciously started to listen to the conversation happening at a table behind her. It was quiet at first, so she didn’t feel like she was eavesdropping. But when the voices got louder and more emotional . . . well, then she totally was.

“Don’t be mad, Mom,” a girl said. Practically pleaded.

“What, do you expect me to be?” a woman—the mom, Clarke presumed—snapped back. “Happy?”

“No.” The girl sounded like she was crying, or at least starting to cry. “But I think I’m gonna be okay.”

Clarke’s interest piqued. For sure. Because by the sound of it, they were talking about . . . something she knew all too well.

“You’re seventeen,” the mother said.

“Yeah, but Jay’s twenty.”

“That’s part of the problem.”

_Oh my god_ , Clarke thought, trying to inconspicuously cast a glance their way. She couldn’t see them well out of the corner of her eye, but hearing them remained easy. No one else was sitting in the restaurant, and their conversation was such an intense one that they didn’t seem to even notice her sitting there.

“You should’ve never started dating him,” the mother growled angrily. “I told you to stay away. Now look at the situation you’re in.”

‘The situation’ was obvious at that point. Even if Clarke hadn’t had a similar conversation with her own mother, she would have been able to figure out what they were talking about. She wondered if this was the first conversation they were having about it, or the first of many. It was possible this girl had told her mom in a public place to try to reduce the likelihood of her getting too angry. Clarke had considered telling her mom in public, too, for that very reason.

“I can just . . . take care of it, though,” the girl said, lowering her voice, although Clarke could still hear her. “Right?”

Clarke’s stomach clenched. Whoa. So they were having _that_ conversation here, too.

“Don’t you think I should?” the girl asked. She sounded so unsure, and so afraid. Two feelings Clarke remembered all too well.

****

_When she’d envisioned an abortion clinic, Clarke had pictured something . . . cold. Sort of blue-tinted. Tile floors, concrete walls. Very sterile and unfeeling. But the clinic she actually found herself in looked very much like a regular hospital. There was a waiting room with an array of old magazines lying out on a table, and there was even calming, acoustic music playing lightly in the background. The receptionist had smiled politely and said good morning, but . . . it wasn’t good. They both knew that._

_Clarke’s hand had been shaking so badly that she couldn’t even hold a pen to fill out the required paperwork, so her mom had taken the clipboard for her and was doing it instead. She wrote quickly and sloppily, in a typical doctor’s handwriting, and Clarke preoccupied herself by looking around, noticing every little detail about the place she could. Like the fish tank in the corner. Did girls—women—ever actually stand and stare at that fish tank? Was it supposed to be relaxing? Because it just seemed out of place. And why was the couch she was sitting on so uncomfortable? As if this whole day wasn’t uncomfortable enough already . . ._

_“I think we’re the first ones here,” she remarked randomly, feeling the need to say . . . something. She and her mom had barely talked on the drive up here._

_“Might as well do an early appointment,” her mom said, still scribbling information down rapidly._

_Clarke wondered how many abortions they actually performed in one day. Did the waiting room ever get packed? Just one soon-to-be dead baby after another?_

_“Is Dad really not coming?” she asked, even though she already knew he wasn’t. If he’d wanted to come and be there for her today, he would have just gotten into the car with them this morning._

_“No,” her mom said, lips drawn tightly together. Just that one word of response was dripping with . . . resentment. She resented him for not being there._

_“I’m sorry for what this is doing to you guys,” Clarke apologized, feeling like she’d heard them fight more in the past couple weeks than she had her whole life. “I never meant to cause problems.”_

_Her mom stopped writing for a moment, looked over at her, and assured her, “Your father and I will be fine. We just don’t see eye to eye on this. But I’m sure we’ll get past it.”_

I hope so, _Clarke thought as her mother flipped to the next page. It wasn’t like they were gonna get a divorce or anything, but still . . ._

_Her stomach gurgled, definitely not because she was hungry, but almost as if to remind her of where her focus needed to be right now. Sure, her parents had their issues, but her own issues were definitely at the forefront of . . . everything. “Why do I have to have the surgery?” she asked her mom. “Isn’t there, like, a medicine or something?”_

_“There is,” her mom confirmed. “But it’s not quite as reliable. And it takes longer to recover.”_

_“Yeah, but . . . it sounds a lot more . . . humane,” Clarke said, wishing she hadn’t gotten online and looked up the specifics of vacuum aspiration last night. That had definitely been a mistake. “I just don’t know how I feel about some doctor literally suctioning this baby out of me.”_

_“You won’t feel a thing,” her mother told her. “You’ll have a numbing medication.”_

_“Yeah, but I’ll still know what’s happening.” It was impossible not to picture it in her head. Even if what was pulled out of her didn’t look like a baby yet, it still was._

_“Clarke, the end result’s the same no matter what method you choose,” her mom said, sounding a bit agitated. “This is the better option for you, trust me. Girls who take those pills end up bleeding heavily for weeks afterward. And there’s strong cramping and sometimes nausea. You’ve got school starting on Monday. You can’t be dealing with all of that.”_

_School was pretty much the last thing on her mind. She’d barely even thought about it. “Well, I’m gonna be dealing with stuff no matter what,” she pointed out. “What if I can’t even go to school on Monday?”_

_“Then Tuesday will be your first day.”_

_Wouldn’t that be suspicious, though? Who missed the first day of school? Would people really believe that she’d just been sick? “So I just go back and act like nothing happened?” she wondered out loud, not sure if she could do that. This summer had not at all gone the way she’d expected it to. First, Bellamy had left early. Then . . . this._

_“Isn’t that what we agreed?” her mom said. “I’m not gonna say anything. Your father’s not gonna say anything. You haven’t told anyone else, right?”_

_She gulped, mumbling, “Right.”_

_“Then no one else needs to know.”_

_As tempting as it had been to tell Raven, there was one person she wished she could tell even more. But it felt too late for that; she’d gone too far down this path. “I wonder if I’ll ever tell Bellamy,” she pondered._

_Her mother shot her a confused look. “Why would you?”_

_She shrugged unsurely. “Well, what if something changes and we end up getting back together?”_

_Grunting, her mom shook her head dismissively. “I really don’t see that happening.”_

_“Why not?” She and Bellamy had been really good together. They’d made each other laugh all the time, been insanely attracted to each other, and loved spending time together. Even Raven and Zeke, high school golden couple, didn’t seem to have quite the same spark she and Bellamy had._

_“Because . . .” Her mom sighed frustratedly and finished filling in a few last lines on the paperwork in front of her before she set her pen down and sternly said, “He’s your high school boyfriend, Clarke. Realistically, do you know how many girls end up staying with their high school boyfriends? Not many. Because people change and people grow up. They grow apart.”_

_That wasn’t always the case, though, was it? Raven and Zeke were going to try to stay together. And she’d heard that two of the teachers at school used to date back in high school. And now they were married. Maybe it wasn’t_ common _for a couple to be together that long, but it did happen._

_“I had a boyfriend in high school,” her mom revealed. “I was head over heels for him. At the time, I thought we’d be together forever. But then he went to college, and I went to college somewhere else, and we both looked back and realized our feelings for each other hadn’t been as strong as we thought. It’s the same with you and Bellamy.”_

_The way she said it . . . it was like a fact. Something indisputable. “You sound so sure,” Clarke said. But as much as her mom was trying to draw a comparison or prove that she could relate in some way, it just wasn’t the same. Her being head over heels for some guy wasn’t the same as what Clarke felt for Bellamy. It’d taken her a while to accept the enormity of it—too long, in fact—but now that she was sitting in a fucking abortion clinic, about to eliminate his child from the world altogether, she finally felt like she had to own up to it. “I think I might’ve fallen in love with him, Mom,” she mumbled._

_Her mom’s reaction was swift and strong. “No, you didn’t.”_

_“You don’t know what I feel,” Clarke argued. These words coming out of her mother’s mouth were not facts. They weren’t anything._

_“Yes, I do,” her mom insisted. “It’s not love; it’s lust.”_

_“Maybe it’s both.” Didn’t the best relationships, the real sweep-you-off-your-feet kind, contain both? Sure, perhaps what she and Bellamy had shared had started off as lust, but somewhere along the way, it had morphed into something so much more._

_“Well, apparently he loves football more than you,” her mom snapped, causing Clarke to frown. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but . . . look around. He isn’t here.”_

_“But he would be if I told him.” She couldn’t fault him for going out and pursuing his dream, especially not when she’d helped encourage it._

_“You’re right,” her mom said. “He would be here. Trying to talk you out of it.”_

_“God.” Clarke glared at her. “Why are you being like this?”_

_“I just . . .” Her mother trailed off, apparently thinking better of what she’d been about to say. “I’m sorry,” she instead repeated. “It’s just . . . today’s a tense day for me, too. I don’t take joy in this. I just want it to be over.” With tears surging into her eyes, she grabbed the clipboard and pen and brought it back up to the front desk, where the receptionist pleasantly asked, “All done?” Apparently it wasn’t all done yet, though, because Clarke watched as her mom leaned over the desk to point out a few questions she’d been confused on, and the receptionist nodded and started to clarify what she was supposed to write in._

What am I doing? _Clarke asked herself, waves of doubt suddenly crashing over her. It wasn’t too late to back out. If she decided to, then that receptionist could put all those papers through the shredder, and she and her mom could get back into the car and drive right home. Her dad would be so relieved that she wasn’t able to go through with it. He’d hug her, and they’d cry together, but he’d promise her that everything was going to be alright._

_Speaking of crying . . . her attention diverted when a girl emerged from the back room. She was in a wheelchair, being pushed by some young guy who looked like he was probably her boyfriend. She was wearing every day clothing, but she was sniffling and wiping her nose, and her boyfriend’s face was just a blank, sad stare straight ahead. He wheeled her towards the sliding glass doors that led outside, where she would be met with a small crowd of protesters who had signs with pictures of aborted fetuses on them. Plenty of signs, but no compassion. One of them had gotten right in Clarke’s face and screamed at her when she’d walked in._

_Clarke watched them leave, and on impulse, she whipped out her phone and pulled up her contacts. Right up there towards the top was Bellamy’s name, and her thumb hovered over it. He was so many things to so many people. A son. A brother. A teammate and quarterback. A friend. A lover, ex-boyfriend. Someone’s father._

_If she did this, then there wasn’t going to be a child anymore, and he wouldn’t be a father. Part of him, a part of his identity he didn’t even know existed, would be gone. She’d be taking something huge away from him. And she loved him. She really did._

_She came so close to pressing that name on her screen, which would have automatically dialed him up. But if she heard his voice, then it was over. She’d be a goner. She’d tell him everything, and then he’d come running home to help her through this. He’d sacrifice everything else for her and for this child, but that just wasn’t fair to him. Not that this was, either. It felt like a lose-lose situation either way. It felt like, no matter what, she was going to hurt him._

_As her mom handed over the completed paperwork, Clarke turned off her phone and pocketed it again, feeling like the chance had passed. She sat there stiff as a board, and her mother rejoined her on that uncomfortable couch without saying a word. And together, silently, they just waited._

****

Avery started crying. For no apparent reason whatsoever, she started crying, and despite Clarke’s efforts to sooth and quiet her, she would not stop.

“Sorry,” she apologized to that young girl and her mom. Oh god, probably the last thing they needed to see or hear was a baby.

The girl tried to hold it together, but eventually, she just broke down into tears and went running into the bathroom with her hands over her face. Her mom just let her go, which was probably for the best. She probably needed a moment alone.

Clarke picked Avery up out of her carrier and whispered, “Shh,” as she held her to her shoulder and gently patted her back. For whatever reason, Avery quieted down as rapidly as she’d begun crying in the first place. It was almost as if she’d been _trying_ to get that girl’s attention.

“Clarke?”

Clarke looked up when she heard the mother’s voice, but she didn’t recognize her, so she wasn’t sure how she knew her name.

“I’m Jennifer. Your mom’s my doctor,” the woman explained. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

She actually did, just because she was nervous about this woman’s motivation. But she said, “Sure,” anyway, and Jennifer pulled out a chair and took a seat.

“I suppose you overheard everything,” she said.

Clarke immediately tried to downplay how closely she’d been listening. “Oh, you know, it’s none of my business.”

Jennifer ignored that and cut straight to the question Clarke had been fearing: “Do you think you could talk to my daughter?”

_I don’t even know your daughter_ , Clarke thought. _And you guys don’t know me_. But if this woman was asking her to do such a thing, then that had to mean she knew _about_ her, that she knew about the choice she’d made.

“I heard that you went through something similar when you were her age,” the woman said quietly, “and . . . well, I assume you’d go back and do things differently now, maybe look into adoption now that you’ve had . . .” She trailed off, pointing to Avery. “She’s beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, and she felt livid at herself for saying those words. Here this virtual stranger was bringing up her abortion, and she was thanking her?

“I’m sorry if I sound nosy,” Jennifer apologized. “I’m just . . . oh, my head’s just spinning right now.”

_Mine, too_ , Clarke thought. She hadn’t imagined that an innocent brunch outing would turn into something as awkward and uncomfortable as this. “Um, yeah, well, you know, so is hers, probably even more than yours,” Clarke said, feeling the need to advocate for how that seventeen year old girl was probably feeling. “So . . . just try to listen and be as supportive as you can.”

The woman nodded, though she looked like she was about to start crying and follow her daughter into that bathroom at any moment. “Should she tell the baby’s father?” she asked, as if Clarke somehow would know the answer to that. “You didn’t, right? Do you regret that?”

Even though Jennifer was probably a very nice woman who was just too worked up to realize that her questioning had crossed the line into invasiveness a long time ago, Clarke could no longer sit there and engage in any sort of conversation. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said, putting Avery back into her carrier. She strapped her in hastily and said, “I just remembered there’s somewhere I have to be. Right now.” She got up, offering a quick, “Good luck with everything,” before she hurried out, feeling like she could no longer even breathe in there. So much for lunch.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy tapped his foot nervously as he waited for Roan to show up. They’d said 7:00, right? He hadn’t imagined that?

At 7:07, Roan finally walked into Eligius, much to Bellamy’s relief. He needed a guy to talk to about . . . things. Important things.

“Hey, sorry I’m so late,” Roan apologized.

Bellamy noticed the fresh-looking cut above his friend’s eyebrow and asked, “Rough day?”

Rolling his eyes, Roan explained, “The new guy doesn’t know how to carry a beam. He’s lucky he didn’t hit me harder.” He snorted and shook his head.

“New guy.” Bellamy absorbed that tidbit of information quietly. Hadn’t Emerson’s excuse for firing him been that he’d been forced to make cuts? But if that was the case, how the hell had they hired a new guy? Unless someone else had quit, it seemed like that had been a crock of bullshit. Maybe that had just been an excuse to get rid of him.

“Hey, I heard about your new job,” Roan said, changing the subject rapidly. “Coach, huh? That’s gotta be a good fit.”

“Yeah, I think it is,” Bellamy said. “I hope it is.” If he couldn’t get that team a few wins under their belt this season, he was just going to look like a failure. He’d already failed at one job in Arkadia, didn’t need to fail at another.

They easily could have sat and talked about work for a while, but that wasn’t why Bellamy had called his former coworker up and asked him to meet up with him. He wanted to cut to the chase, so he said, “Well, thanks for coming. I know this was all kinda last minute today, but . . . it’s important.”

“Sounded like,” Roan said. “What’s going on?”

Bellamy picked up his now empty glass, wishing he could have another drink. But he didn’t want to risk getting sloppy. Not on a night that had the potential to be life-changing. “I need your advice,” he told Roan. “See, you’re the only friend I’ve got who’s married. And I wanna get married. To Clarke.” He laughed a little after adding that last part, because it wasn’t like he needed to clarify. “Obviously,” he said. “But I gotta propose first. And I already did that once, but it just blew up in my face.”

Roan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Bellamy was . . . surprised. At least momentarily. He’d just assumed that everyone knew by now, that the gossip had spread all over town. But Roan hadn’t gone to Arkadia high school, so he ran with a different crowd of people most of the time. And he was busy with work and his family, so it made sense that he didn’t know. And Bellamy didn’t feel like revealing the whole story to him, so he kept his summary of the whole ordeal vague. “She said no. Not because she wanted to; just because . . . well, we still had some stuff to deal with. You really didn’t hear about all that?”

Roan shrugged and shook his head, then said, “It’s none of my business.”

That was refreshing. So many other people seemed to think they had a right to know and talk about it all they wanted to. “Right,” he said, relieved to have skimmed over that part of the story. “Anyway, I gotta propose to her again, but I’m fuckin’ terrified, ‘cause I want her to say yes this time. So I feel like it’s gotta be perfect.” All day, he’d been thinking about how he could do it, what special way he could pop the question this time. Because he couldn’t just redo the last proposal. This one had to be new, different. Better.

“Nah, it doesn’t have to be perfect,” Roan said. “Trust me. Mine wasn’t. If the girl wants to marry you, she’ll say yes no matter how you propose.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

Bellamy really wanted to believe that, but he also wanted some reassurance, so he asked his friend, “How’d you do it? How’d you ask your wife?”

Roan smirked and fell silent as he reminisced for a moment. “Oh, I asked Echo in an arcade,” he said. “Romantic, huh?”

Bellamy laughed lightly.

“Used one of those plastic rings you get out the prize machine,” Roan recalled. “Wasn’t fancy. Didn’t need to be. I just wanted to ask her, so I did. And she wanted to say yes. So she did.”

Bellamy could picture that in his head, a couple who had been through a lot having a perfectly lighthearted proposal, one that had resulted in a good, stable marriage and a happy family. “Sounds so simple,” he said.

“It is,” Roan responded. “You and Clarke are in love, aren’t you?”

Was that even a question? “Yeah, of course.”

“And you guys have moved past . . . whatever made her say no before?”

There were times when she still looked sad about it, nights she brought it up and cried a little about it, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, too. But it wasn’t consuming either one of their lives the way it could have. “Yeah, I think so,” he said.

Roan shrugged. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Was that true? Bellamy really wanted to believe it was. He wanted to imagine his proposal and not feel any knots in his stomach. He wanted to feel completely confident about it, the way he had last time.

“When it comes to something like this, the past doesn’t matter,” Roan said. “The future does.”

_The future_ , Bellamy mused. He liked the sound of that. Because when he thought about the future, all he thought of was Clarke and Avery.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Bellamy got home, the sun was already setting. He’d called Clarke, of course, to let her know that he was at the bar with Roan. But he hadn’t told her why they were there or what they’d been talking about. No. That would come later. The plan that he and Roan had concocted was to hide the ring under her pillow and tell her to peek under there before she got into bed. A surprise. Hopefully a somewhat adorable one.

“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late,” he apologized as he walked in the door.

“Oh, that’s okay,” she said. She was in the kitchen, pulling a big casserole dish out of the oven. “Gave me a chance to get dinner going.”

It was way too late for dinner, though, which meant she’d waited for him. He felt bad about leaving her alone most of the night, but now that he was home, he was so damn determined to make it a night to remember. “Is Avery asleep?” he asked, sauntering towards the counter.

“For now,” Clarke said. “Probably not for long.” She picked up a big wooden spoon and began to stir the casserole around in the dish. He couldn’t tell what was in it, but it looked good. Although he’d just gorged on pretzels at the bar, so he wasn’t very hungry.

“You need any help with anything?” he asked her.

“Um, I think I got it,” she replied. “But you can stand around and be eye candy if you want. I wouldn’t hate that.”

He smirked, leaning against the counter, and watched her stir. “So how was your day?”

“Oh, fine,” she said with a slight sigh. “Pretty uneventful. The yoga was . . . interesting. But I think I’m gonna keep going. At least once in a while.” She shrugged. “Might as well, right? It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

He made a mental note to take a day off next week, to cancel practice so that they could go do something as a family. Like maybe go to the zoo. Avery was too little to really know what animals she’d be seeing, but they could at least get some pictures of her.

“They had us start out sitting in, like, the butterfly pose,” Clarke went on, “and then when we leaned forward, we got to kiss our baby’s belly. That was kind of cute.”

_You’re kinda cute_ , he thought, smiling at her. God, even in a simple white t-shirt and pajama shorts, Clarke was still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“But then it got harder when we started doing all these stretches and poses with the baby underneath us,” she kept going. “All I could think about was falling and crushing her. Oh, but then . . .”

Even though she continued talking, he started to get a little . . . lost as he listened to her. Not because he was bored, but because he was just . . . fascinated. Totally enthralled by the way her lips moved and formed all those words, and by the way her blue eyes sparkled so effortlessly. There she was, the love of his life, the girl who had been the one for him for the better part of a decade now, and he still hadn’t married her. What was he waiting for? Hadn’t they already waited long enough?

“Hey, Clarke?” he interrupted softly.

“What?” she asked.

This wasn’t the plan. That ring was upstairs, stashed away in the back of their nightstand drawer, and he was supposed to find it and slip it under her pillow. _That_ was the plan. And that would’ve been fine. But for some reason, standing there with her in that kitchen, listening to her ramble aimlessly about her day . . . this just felt right. So he blurted out a question he was sure he already knew the answer to: “Do you still wanna marry me?”

She stopped stirring the casserole abruptly and stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. It took her a moment to respond, but when she did, it was a quiet unassuming, “Well, yeah, of course.” And then she looked down at the food in front of her and actually tried to start stirring it again. She didn’t do that for long, though, until she stopped again, looked back up at him, and said, “Are you asking?”

There was no backtracking now, no pretending he’d just brought up the question to see what she would say. “I think I am,” he told her. Except that sounded too uncertain, and he wasn’t uncertain about any of this. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he confirmed. “I’m asking. Will you marry me?” God, he wasn’t down on one knee or anything, didn’t have the ring in his hand, but there was something kind of romantic about a spontaneous proposal, wasn’t there? He just loved her so much that he couldn’t hold off any longer.

“Are—are you sure you want to?” Clarke stammered, turning a bit to face him. “Because you don’t have to. I know we have Avery now, but I don’t expect anything, especially not after . . .” She trailed off, gulping nervously, and remained nervous as he words tumbled out. “I mean, I would understand—like, totally, completely understand—if you still need time.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. He’d had some time, and now he was ready to move forward.

Still, even with that insistence from him, she kept trying to give him an out. “It’s just that . . . you’re not obligated,” she told him, as if he ever felt that way with her. “And I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated. You’re her dad—she knows that—and you’ve already done so much for us. You don’t need to do this, too, if you’re not sure . . .”

“Clarke, I’m sure,” he cut in.

“But--”

“Just stop, okay?” As nice as it was of her to double and triple check that this was really what he wanted . . . he needed her to know that he’d never wanted anything more. “Marry me,” he said again, not even phrasing it as a question this time. Because he already knew what her answer was. It felt different this time.

She inhaled a heavy breath, then let it out shakily. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean yes,” she corrected. Once she’d said that word, she allowed herself to relax, and a big smile swept across her face. “ _Yes_ ,” she repeated, more emphatically this time.

There it was. There was the word he’d wanted to hear for a while now. It wouldn’t have been right to hear it before Avery was born, and looking back, as painful as it all had been, he was glad she hadn’t accepted his proposal before being completely honest with him. They’d needed to wait. And now they had.

Cupping her face in both his hands, he leaned down and kissed her excitedly. She kissed him back giddily, her hands finding their way to his arms, and in the back of his mind, he realized that, for the first time in his life, he was kissing his fiancée.

“Oh, wait,” he said, pulling back suddenly. “I forgot the ring. I have it. It’s upstairs.” He darted towards the staircase, instructing her, “Just wait down here while I go get it.” He was almost all the way up when he decided against that and said, “Actually, on second thought, go outside. Go stand on the beach. I’ll be right out.”

“Outside?” Clarke echoed.

“Yeah.” He grinned, thinking back to all the time they’d spent together on the beach. Maybe not always this beach at this house, but over the years . . . they’d shared a lot of good memories there. Plus, now that it was dark out, it was damn romantic out there.

Locating the ring turned out to be harder than he’d thought. “Shit, shit, shit,” he swore as he rummaged through the drawer. “Where is it?” Ever since he’d moved back in, his stuff had sort of just been dumped into drawers and scattered onto shelves. And neither one of them felt particularly inclined to clean since, when they weren’t busy with Avery, they tended to feel exhausted. He hadn’t minded the fullness of the nightstand drawer until now, because it’d been a good place to store the ring out of sight. But now he needed it. He needed it badly.

“Ah, there you are,” he said when he finally found it. He opened up the box, did a quick inspection to make sure it was as perfect as he remembered, and said, “Okay,” already kind of breathless as he raced back out of the bedroom, this time with the small box in hand. At the top of the stairs, he had an idea, though, and said, “Wait a minute,” as he turned back around. He headed into the nursery, flipped on the light, and reached down into his daughter’s crib. “Hey, rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said, lifting her out. “Daddy needs your help.” Even though he’d already gotten his yes out of Clarke, he still wanted to do something kind of cheesy, something she would always remember and could tell their grandkids about someday. “What’re we gonna do?” he mused, looking around the room. “Help me think of something.”

Since he couldn’t exactly leave Clarke standing outside by herself for too long, the thinking had to be abbreviated. And since Avery didn’t know what was going on, it was up to him to do the thinking. Once he had his idea and committed to it, he carried the baby downstairs and walked out the sliding glass door with her, holding her close to his chest. She rested her cheek on him, but her eyes remained open, almost as if she didn’t want to sleep through this.

And there stood Clarke, his girl, his princess, waves lapping at her feet. The moonlight reflected on the water’s surface, but she looked so much brighter and more beautiful to him.

“Avery wanted to be a part of it,” he explained as he stepped down off the back porch.

“Oh, she did, did she?”

“Yeah. You know, this is a big moment for her, too.” He looked down at her and clasped her little hand in his larger one, then returned his attention to Clarke and teasingly asked, “So do you like the moon? And the stars? I hired them just for this special occasion.”

She laughed a little as he came to stand beside her. “They’re very nice.”

“And the weather . . . I’m gonna have to thank the weather big time, because it’s really doin’ its job here.” For real, though, he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night. It was warm but not too warm, the breeze was perfect, and the ocean, for the most part, was surprisingly calm and still.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “So what’s your plan here? I already said yes.”

“I know. But this is gonna be when it’s official.” He cleared his throat, making a big show out of it as if he were going to launch into some long spiel, and said, “You know, I thought about maybe pulling out an impromptu speech, ‘cause you know how I am about speeches.”

“So good,” she said.

“So good,” he agreed. “And I could do that pretty easily. ‘cause I could tell you how much I love you, or how much being with you has changed my whole life. Or how I don’t wanna spend a single day without you.”

Her eyes started to get shimmery, and she had to blink back a few tears.

“But then I just thought . . . she already knows that,” he said. “So maybe I should have Avery do the honors. You ready?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling excitedly.

“Okay, here we go.” He turned his daughter around, still keeping his hand clasped over hers, revealing the piece of paper he’d hastily scribbled on and taped to her onesie. _Will you marry Daddy?_ it asked. His handwriting was complete crap, and it probably would have been cooler to actually design and order one a onesie that said that, but hell, this was getting the job done, and he could tell by the look on Clarke’s face that she adored it.

“Aww,” she said. “Yes, Avery, I will marry Daddy.”

Despite being rudely awoken up in the middle of one of her many naps, that got a coo out of Avery.

“Ooh, she likes the sound of that,” Clarke said.

“Yeah, she does.” He liked it, too. “Oh, and look what she’s got in her hand.” He unclasped his hand slowly, and Avery’s fell open along with his. There in the palm of her hand lay the ring he’d envisioned Clarke wearing for months now, the one he’d picked out and had designed just for her.

“Oh my god,” Clarke gasped. “I love this.”

For being a spur of the moment proposal, he had to admit, it’d been pretty good. “Here, you take her so I can do this the right way,” he said, taking the ring as he handed Avery over. With Clarke holding the baby, he was free to get down on one knee and slide the ring onto her left hand. It fit perfectly, and it looked amazing.

“There we go,” he said, slowly standing up, holding her trembling hand in his. “There it is.”

“There it is,” she said, looking down at the ring in awe before she lifted her eyes up to his once again and tearfully told him, “I love you, Bellamy.”

“I love you, too.” Damn, his heart felt like it was getting so big that it was about to break through his chest. If someone had told him back in high school that it was possible to love someone as much as he loved Clarke Griffin and the small little girl she was holding, he wouldn’t have believed them. But now, he knew. “Come here,” he said, encircling his arms around her waist. He pulled her as close as he could with Avery still in between them and gave her another kiss, quite possibly the happiest kiss of his entire life.

_Finally_ , he thought, smiling against her lips. _Finally._


	75. Chapter 75

_Chapter 75_

From the moment Clarke woke up, even before she’d actually opened her eyes, she was aware of two things: One, that Bellamy wasn’t lying in bed beside her, and two, that she had an engagement ring on her hand. Since she heard the shower running, it was an easy guess where Bellamy was. She opened her eyes, stretched out, and took a minute to just gaze and marvel at the beautiful diamond that now resided on her left ring finger. It wasn’t obnoxiously big the way some diamonds were, but it still sparkled gorgeously. The silver band fit her finger perfectly, so there was no need to get it resized. And by far, her favorite part was the inscription on the inside.

Even though it’d been a long time coming, it still felt surreal to see it there. A ring, an actual engagement ring from Bellamy to her. The same exact one she’d forced herself to turn down two months ago. For good reason.

****

_Lying curled up on her side, Clarke cried. She’d been crying for hours, ever since she’d gotten home. They’d told her to expect a little soreness and some mild cramping, but the pain she was feeling wasn’t physical. It was all the other kind._

_Even when she’d stopped the kind of crying that caused her whole body to shake, the tears still seeped from her eyes. They rolled slowly down her cheeks, onto her pillowcase. But she didn’t bother to wipe them away, because what was the point of that? She was going to be crying the rest of the afternoon and probably all night, too. The only time she’d stop was if she somehow managed to fall asleep._

_Thankfully, her parents had had the common sense to leave her alone, at least until her mom opened the door and said, “Knock, knock,” without actually knocking. Clarke didn’t move, didn’t turn her head to look back over her shoulder. She curled up even tighter, knees drawn up towards her stomach, and just stared out the window as her watery eyes continued to sting._

_“How’re you doing, honey?” her mother asked her softly. “Are you okay?”_

_What kind of question was that? She’d woken up that morning with a baby in her stomach, and now there was nothing there. It was gone. They’d sucked it out of her with a machine._

_“Do you want anything to eat?” her mom offered when she didn’t get an answer. “Or drink?”_

_If she tried to put anything down, she felt like she might throw up. Just thinking about everything that had happened today made her feel sick. Maybe some girls were able to have this done and not be affected by it, which was totally fine. But she was just not one of those girls._

_Apparently her mom still didn’t get the hint that she wasn’t in the mood to hold a conversation of any kind, because she went ahead and asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”_

_Clarke forced out a quick response for that one. “No.” That was the last thing she wanted to do._

_“Is there anything you need from me?” her mom asked. She was trying so hard—too hard—to be helpful._

_“I just need to be alone,” Clarke told her. Having someone else around right now wasn’t going to make her feel any better. Nothing could make her feel better right now. And maybe nothing ever would again._

_Finally, her mom stopped trying to be there for her, and she just quietly left the room, much to Clarke’s relief. When she was alone again, she could let the crying intensify. She could let it get to the point where she had to squeeze her eyes shut and clutch her pillowcase tightly with her sob-soaked hands. She could let her shoulders shake and choke on a few helpless whimpers of pointless regret. But it wouldn’t amount to anything. All the regret and sorrow in the world still wouldn’t bring that baby back._

****

Clarke was totally zoned in on her ring and spaced out in general when the bathroom door opened and out came Bellamy in a cloud of steam. He had a white towel wrapped around his waist and looked damn good with his hair in messy wet curls.

“Morning, fiancée,” he greeted her cheerfully.

“Morning,” she said, turning over onto her back. He came to the side of the bed and started to lean down to kiss her, but she turned her head to the side and cautioned, “Oh, my breath probably stinks.”

“I don’t care,” he said, planting a kiss on her anyway. He must have already brushed his teeth, because he tasted all minty.

“Early practice?” she asked, not bothering to get up as he began rummaging through the dresser drawer for his underwear.

“Early meeting,” he said, unwrapping the towel and letting it fall to the floor.

“With who?” she asked, trying not to be distracted by her man’s oh-so-sculpted backside. But good god, he was like one of those Renaissance statues.

“The athletic director,” Bellamy replied as he tugged on a pair of black boxer briefs. “Apparently these new uniforms I wanna order cost too much money. But that’s okay. I’ll convince him they’re worth it.”

“Gotta be a smooth talker,” she said.

“Yeah. I’m pretty smooth, right?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes you’re a big dork,” she teased.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” It was okay, though. She loved that he had a dorky side.

“Big DILF, you mean,” he corrected.

“That, too.” She stretched out some more, feeling like today would be a good day for a lazy day, except now that she had Avery, she didn’t have lazy days anymore. “So are you gonna tell your mom and Octavia today?” she inquired as he opened the next drawer to grab a pair of jeans.

“Tell ‘em what?” he said. “Is there some big, life-changing news I’m supposed to share?”

She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “See? Dork.”

Grinning, he stepped into his favorite, well-worn dark jeans. “Nah, I’ll probably tell ‘em today,” he said. “What about you? You think you’re gonna tell anyone?”

“Well, I’ll definitely tell Raven.” She’d already decided on that much. “But my mom has a surgery scheduled today. I might wait to tell her. We planned on going out for lunch tomorrow, so I could tell her then, show off the ring.” She wriggled her fingers excitedly.

Bellamy looked a bit more nervous than excited when he mumbled, “You think she’s gonna be happy for us?”

“Yeah.” She’d been happy for her mom and Kane, so she figured she could at least expect the same amount of enthusiasm in return.

“‘cause I know she’s tryin’ to be nicer, but . . .” He trailed off, tugged his pants all the way up, and muttered, “I just hope she’s happy.”

“She will be,” Clarke assured him. “And so will my dad.”

Bellamy froze with his hand on his zipper and swore, “Oh, shit. I didn’t ask for his permission this time. Did I fuck up?”

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh at his panic. “No. It’s not like we’re in the 1800s.”

“But it’s tradition,” he groaned.

“Relax, I’m sure he’s fine with it. He gave you permission the first time, right?”

“Right.” He sighed.

“Everyone’s gonna be excited for us,” she told him. Although she wasn’t counting Finn as part of the ‘everyone.’ If there was anyone who wouldn’t be thrilled by the news, it’d probably be him.

“Not as excited as I am.” Shirtless and still with droplets of water clinging to the ends of his hair, Bellamy climbed on top of her, covering her body up with his larger one, and said, “I can’t wait to be your husband.”

“You’ll be a really good one,” she predicted, grazing her fingers against his sides. “And I’ll try to be an awesome wife.”

He smiled down at her and said, “You already are.”

Knowing that he already thought of her that way made her heart swell with pride, but she still couldn’t wait to have the official title. “I’ll be a Blake,” she said, “like you and Avery.”

“Clarke Blake.” He made a face right after he tried out her new name. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. Even with a lot of girls choosing to hyphenate their last names these days, she didn’t mind doing the more traditional thing and taking his. “You know what? When I was a junior, I remember spacing out during English class a lot that year, ‘cause it was really easy.”

He grunted. “Speak for yourself.”

“Anyway I would doodle and draw a lot,” she recalled. “And I had this notebook with _Clarke Blake_ written on the front. With hearts and squiggles and everything.”

“Hearts and squiggles?” he echoed.

“Yeah.” She’d had to make sure to always leave that one at school in her locker, because if either of her parents had seen it, an argument would have ensued.

“And you call me a dork,” he said.

“It’s cheesy, I know, but . . . I was really missing you,” she said. That had definitely been her least favorite year of high school, although none of them had ever been to compare to the one she’d spent with Bellamy. “So I would just sit there and daydream about you in class,” she said, “wonder what you were doing.”

“I think I was mostly . . . playing football,” he said. “And missing you.”

It was sort of sad to think how they’d both been going about their lives, both too scared to pick up the phone and call each other. And that one year had turned into five long ones. They’d missed out on half a decade together. “We’re not gonna waste any more time now, are we?” she said.

“Not a second.” He lowered his lips onto hers, kissing her slowly and sweetly, and her stomach fluttered with anticipation as she thought about how lucky she was to be able to wake up to this kind of kiss and this kind of guy every single day for the rest of her life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Raven had on overalls and a bandana when she walked out of the auto body garage. She looked so 90s, but also so dressed for work. “Look who it is! There’s my girl!” she exclaimed as she approached Avery with open arms.

“Wait a minute,” Clarke said, angling the baby carrier away from her friend. “Are you greasy?”

Raven made a face. “Kind of.”

“Then don’t hold her. She just had a bath.”

“Fine,” Raven said with a disappointed sigh. “Oh, Avery, Avery . . . you’re too clean for me.” She bent down anyway and looked at the baby happily. “Aw, look at her cheeks. They’re so chubby.”

“I know. She just gets cuter and cuter every day.” Clarke sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, because Avery’s carrier wasn’t exactly fun to hold, and Raven sat next to her, the baby in between.

“I bet she was the cutest one in the yoga class,” Raven said.

“Well, I may be biased, but . . . yeah.” Clarke popped a pacifier into Avery’s mouth when she started to make sounds, the sounds that usually preceded a full on fit of crying, in hopes that that would keep her quiet. “So, what do you have lined up today?” she asked her friend, even though she really hadn’t stopped by just to make small talk.

“Just work,” Raven answered. “And then when I get done with work, I’m gonna go home and start my first summer class for grad school.”

“Wow.” Clarke had been so wrapped up in her own stuff that she’d totally forgotten that Raven was doing that. “Sounds hectic.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be good,” Raven said. And of course she said that, because no academic rigor was ever too rigorous for her. She’d taken seven classes one semester without even breaking a sweat. “What about you?” she inquired.

“Oh, nothing much.” Clarke brushed her hair away from her face, making sure to do so with her left hand. Just to show off the ring.

“No yoga?”

“Nope, not today.” She randomly scratched at the side of her nose, even though it wasn’t itchy, once again keeping the ring in full view.

“That’s probably for the best,” Raven said. “You don’t wanna overload yourself on exercise.”

“Right.” Clarke tapped her fingers against her chin, not sure how much more obvious she could be.

“Besides, you’re getting close to week six, right?” Raven grinned. “You know what that means.”

“Mmm-hmm.” If there wasn’t something bigger to talk about, she would have gladly shared some of her anxiety with Raven about returning to sex. But that just wasn’t as important as the diamond on her finger.

Raven remained oblivious as she kept on talking. “That’s gotta be so hard to go that long without sex. I don’t think I’ve gone that long without it since Zeke and I broke up. But even then, three months later, I met Murphy. And I know he doesn’t look like he’d be that great in the sack, and sometimes I do tease him about it, but really, he’s surprisingly--”

“Raven,” Clarke cut in, literally face-palming. Again, with her left hand.

“What?”

Keeping her hand on her forehead, Clarke asked, “Don’t you notice anything?”

Raven looked her over for a few seconds, then exclaimed, “Oh, yeah! You’ve totally lost some more weight.”

“Raven!” She threw both her hands in the air, unable to even try to be subtle any longer, and then just wriggled her fingers on her left hand to be as obvious as possible.

Finally, even though it had taken an unusually long amount of time for Raven’s mental lightbulb to click on, her eyes got wide, and she gasped, “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot! Clarke!” She let out an excited squeal and leaned over Avery’s carrier to pull her into a hug. “Finally! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, hugging her as tightly as she could in such an awkward position, smiling from ear to ear. _Congratulations_ really was such a nice word to hear.

After telling Raven, she went over to Monty and Harper’s and told them. Bellamy was going to tell Miller, of course, after he told his mom and Octavia, and Clarke gave Raven permission to tell Murphy. She did end up waiting until the next day to tell her mom, and unlike Raven, her mother noticed the ring nearly the second she walked in the door.

“Oh, honey. It’s beautiful,” she said, holding Clarke’s hand as she gazed down at it.

“Yeah, he did a good job,” Clarke agreed. He’d gotten her a princess cut diamond. Of course.

“So he proposed in the kitchen?” her mom inquired.

“Well, technically.” She was well aware that that didn’t sound super romantic, but the way it had all come together actually kind of had been. “Then he re-proposed on the beach. With Avery. It was really cute.”

“I see,” her mom said, letting go of her hand. “Well, I’m not really surprised. Were you?”

She shrugged. “A little. It just came out of nowhere.”

“Out of nowhere?” her mom echoed. “He already asked you once before.”

“I know, but . . .” That didn’t mean she’d anticipated him asking again so soon. “I guess I just assumed he’d need a lot more time to get back to this point. But I’m glad he didn’t wait. I mean, I’ve been in love with him since the tenth grade. It’s about time I marry him.” It was crazy to think that she was actually marrying her high school sweetheart. That didn’t happen for most girls.

“So what are you guys thinking about doing, a big wedding or a small ceremony?” her mother questioned.

“We haven’t talked about it yet. This all just happened, you know.”

“Well, I’m willing to help out however I can,” her mom offered.

“Thanks.” Clarke wasn’t sure how much help she was going to want, because there was always the risk that her mom would try to take over the wedding-planning. But the woman definitely had connections in that town, so she could surely be of some assistance. “It’s nice that you guys are . . . finally getting along,” she said, glad that this announcement was being met with happiness instead of disdain.

“Well, I know I didn’t make things easy,” her mom acknowledged. “And I’m sure I’ll never be his favorite person. But I’ve seen the way he loves you, and Avery, too, and . . . I can’t imagine anyone else ever making you happier.”

_Because no one ever will_ , Clarke thought. Bellamy Blake was _it_ for her. And he had been for a long time. “I love you, Mom,” she said, giving her mother a hug. Things were finally starting to feel . . . easier in her family.

“I love you, too, Clarke,” her mom said tearfully. When she pulled back from the embrace, she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Oh, we need to celebrate,” she decided. “What’re you doing for dinner tonight?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy was amazed how quickly his future mother-in-law could throw together a dinner. Abby had these insane domestic skills in addition to her medical prowess. She could go from wearing scrubs to wearing an apron without skipping a beat, and she ended up preparing an entire three course meal in the time span of a single afternoon. The most impressive thing to him was the sheer quantity of it all. It was enough to feed not only himself, Clarke, Kane, and Abby, but also his mom, Octavia, Jake, and Alyssa. Everyone had dropped their evening plans and shown up to celebrate. And even though Avery was still the center of attention, because she was always the center of attention, Clarke got to be the center of attention, too. All the women wanted to see the ring. And her dad took her outside and had what looked like a pretty heartfelt and emotional talk with her, one that ended in a huge hug with both of them crying. Every tear was a happy tear, though. Not the other kind.

By the time they all got seated at the table, Bellamy was ready to dive right into the meal, but Jake stood up, raised his glass, and announced, “I’d like to propose a toast before we get started.”

“Here we go,” Clarke mumbled, and Bellamy smirked. They’d be hearing lots of congratulatory toasts from people these next few . . . months? Weeks? However long it ended up taking to get Clarke down the aisle.

“To Clarke and Bellamy,” Jake said. “What you share . . .” His eyes glazed over for a moment, and he seemed to swallow a lump in his throat before he continued. “I feel like it’s made our family whole again,” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “We’re certainly a bigger family than we used to be. We’ve expanded.” He looked down at Alyssa as he said that, and nodded in Kane’s direction, too. “But we’re all here tonight because of you two,” he said. “I’m so glad my daughter’s found someone who loves her unconditionally, because it’s what she deserves. And it’s what I’ve always wanted for her. So . . .” Trailing off, raising his glass higher, he repeated, “To Clarke and Bellamy.”

“To Clarke and Bellamy,” everyone else repeated, doing the same.

Bellamy reached over and put his hand on top of Clarke’s giving it a squeeze.

On the other side of him, his sister snorted and said, “Damn. I never knew you were so cool.”

“Cooler than you,” he shot back, making a face.

“You wish.”

Their mother sighed, resigned to their juvenile arguments by now, and said, “Oh, Clarke, do you see what you’re marrying into?”

“Oh, I love it,” Clarke said. “I never had a sibling to bicker and banter with.”

Octavia didn’t hesitate to ask, “Is Avery gonna have one?”

Everyone immediately fell quiet, so quiet they could’ve heard a pin drop.

“Yeah,” Clarke answered. “Someday.”

Bellamy couldn’t hold back an excited grin. Yeah, that was gonna be awesome, expanding the family even more, giving Avery a brother or sister who would probably have freckles like him.

“You guys probably aren’t thinking that far ahead right now,” Abby said as she began to pass the food around.

_Kind of am_ , Bellamy thought. But it was easier for him to think about that stuff than it was for Clarke. She was still recovering.

“No, we’ve got more pressing concerns,” Clarke said. “Like planning a wedding.”

“Figuring out what food we’re gonna serve,” he added.

“Finding a venue,” she went on. “And my dress.”

“And the food decisions.”

“And figuring out who we’re gonna invite.” She sighed dramatically.

“But the food thing . . .” He wasn’t letting up on that.

“Wait, what? Why is this your top priority?” she asked.

“It’s what everyone always remembers most about the wedding, if the food was good or not. And speaking of good food . . .” He lifted up a heavy casserole dish and scooped some first onto his fiancée’s plate, then onto his.

“And here I thought everyone would remember our touching, heartfelt vows,” she joked.

“Oh, yeah, those, too.” He already had lots of ideas for what he wanted to say. “We’re gonna write those ourselves, by the way,” he told their family.

“That’ll be nice,” Kane said.

“Yeah. Mine are gonna be awesome,” he couldn’t help but boast.

“Yeah, I gotta measure up to Mr. Speech-giver here.” Clarke playfully rolled her eyes.

“Good luck,” he teased. But he was definitely just giving her a hard time. Hers would be good, too. Clarke used to write some songs back in the day. She knew what she was doing. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe neither one of them did. After all, it wasn’t like either of them had written wedding vows before.

“Well, I think it’s great you guys are doing it that way,” Octavia said. “That’s what Lincoln and I are gonna do.”

“Many years down the road.” Leaning over to Clarke, he whispered, “Don’t toss the bouquet to her.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Clarke assured him.

At the other end of the table, Abby said, “I think we’re just gonna do the traditional vows, aren’t we, Marcus?”

“I think so,” he said.

“Nothing wrong with that,” his mom piped up. “They’re tradition for a reason. Those will be good, too.”

Bellamy watched his mom for a moment, wondering if she’d ever get the chance to write vows, or at least repeat them after a minister said them. Everyone at that table had someone, except for her, and it wasn’t fair that she was still alone. She was a really great person, inspired the hell out of him, and he wanted her to find someone, too.

He couldn’t dwell on it too long, because the food kept getting passed around, and the conversation kept evolving. “Just think, Clarke,” Abby said, “we could end up going dress shopping together.”

Bellamy could tell by the forced smile on Clarke’s face that she didn’t love that idea. “That’d be . . . something.” She probably just wanted to go with her friends since they had more of a similar style.

“Oh, speaking of dresses, what color are the bridesmaids’ dresses gonna be?” Octavia asked eagerly. “I look best in black.”

“Octavia!” his mother hissed.

“What? I’m gonna be a bridesmaid. She already told me.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be her and Raven and Harper,” Clarke revealed. “Kind of a no-brainer. But I have no idea on the color.”

“Not black,” Bellamy said. That was for funerals.

“Yeah, not black,” Clarke agreed. “Raven wants red, Harper wants pink . . . so we’ll see what we end up with. Right, babe?”

“Hey, it’s up to you,” he said. If it didn’t have a taste or an aroma, he didn’t have much of an opinion on it. “You’re the boss.”

Jake chuckled and told him, “You sound like a married man already.”

“I feel like one,” he said, smiling. And it wasn’t a bad feeling, either. In every way that mattered, he and Clarke were practically already married. The wedding was just going to make it official.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dinner had been a nice way to celebrate, for sure, but Clarke was still eager to get home. The night was no longer young, but it also wasn’t . . . over.

“Well . . . that was fun tonight,” she said to Bellamy as they crossed the upstairs hall from Avery’s room to theirs.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed, setting his car keys down on the dresser. “I’m glad to be home, though.”

“Why?” she asked. “Are you tired?”

He stretched, twisted his torso to his side, and admitted, “A little bit.”

She knew that, after a full day of work _and_ a family dinner, he probably could have lain down and fallen asleep in minutes. Hell, she could have, too. But she wasn’t going to. “Too tired?” she asked pointedly.

Freezing in mid-stretch, he gave her an intrigued look and asked, “Too tired for what?”

She smiled at him flirtatiously and felt a blush spread to her cheeks. “You know what today was?” she said, swaying towards him.

He waited a moment, then answered, “Wednesday?”

“Oh, come on. You know.” She stopped right in front of him and put her hands on his chest. He’d worn such a nice button-up shirt tonight, and it looked so good on him. It’d look even better _off_ him, though.

“Oh, you mean . . . the end of week six,” he said slowly. “Avery’s six weeks old.”

“Yep.”

“And that means . . . if we wanted to, we could . . . do something.”

She scrunched his shirt up in her hands. “Yeah, we could _do something_.”

He grinned, definitely more awake and lively than he’d been just seconds ago. “So are you saying you want to?”

“Well, I’ve thought about it,” she said. “And I feel like my sex drive _is_ back. It’s just . . . I’m still not completely one-hundred percent loving the way my body looks.”

“I’m loving it,” he said, his hands sliding up and down her sides.

“I know. But I’m still a little self-conscious.” Even with her clothes on, she worried about what she . . . felt like. Once they were off, she was definitely going to worry about what she looked like. “But I still wanna . . .” She wasn’t about to let her insecurities take this away from them, so she came right out and affirmatively said it. “Yeah, I wanna have sex again.”

“Tonight?” he asked.

“No, next week,” she joked.

Apparently he thought she was serious, because his whole facial expression just fell. “Oh.”

“I’m kidding!” she exclaimed. “Yes, tonight.” They probably had a couple or hours until Avery woke up again. Even if they just did it once, that’d be enough. “You up for it?” she asked teasingly.

“Oh, I’m up,” he assured her, and since she figured he had to be referencing an erection, she slid one hand down and grabbed his package. “Fuck, Clarke,” he swore as his hips instinctively pressed forward into her hand. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah.” They’d done it countless times before. It didn’t have to be some huge deal. Although . . . it kind of was, wasn’t it? Even if this hadn’t been the first time they’d decided to sleep together since their relationship had hit its biggest obstacles, she’d still pushed a freaking _baby_ out of her body. Having sex again after all of that wasn’t something to take lightly. “Just . . . go slow, okay?” she asked him. “It might feel a little different.”

He nodded, offering her all the reassurance she needed in that moment without even saying a word. She felt safe with Bellamy, always had. When he had his hands on her, she knew he would take care of her and do everything he could to make it feel amazing. It’d been that way ever since they’d started this whole thing, ever since her first time.

He got really soft and sweet with her as they began to undress each other. Her fingers fumbled a bit with the buttons on his shirt, but his just easily slipped beneath the thin straps of her summery dress to caress her shoulders. She’d already removed his shirt by the time he lifted her dress up and over her head, and although she was completely transfixed by his broad, defined chest, he was the one who complimented her appearance when he whispered, “Look at you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a second, she pictured herself back in his old bedroom, a virgin getting ready to do this for the first time. Not because she was in love. Not back then. But because she’d simply wanted to. Now, it wasn’t just want; it _was_ love. She felt it deep in her core, and it was coming off of him in waves. It was in the way his eyes roamed all over her, in the way his hands smoothed down her arms, over her hips, and around her back.

He knew exactly what he was doing as he let his fingers crawl up her spine to reach the clasp of her bra. Like a master, he unhooked it, and she let it fall from her shoulders. That particular part of her body was probably feeling the least sexy of all, so she moved in close to him and pressed her chest to his instead of letting him stand there and get a better look. He didn’t question it, instead encircling his arms around her as he bent his head down and kissed her.

_How many times have we kissed?_ she wondered. It had to be thousands, at least. Hundreds of thousands. And it was incredible every single time.

“What’re we gonna do about, uh . . . you know, protection?” he murmured against her lips as she snaked her hands down in between them to begin removing his jeans.

“It’s fine,” she told him.

That quick reassurance caused him to pull back and give her a confused look. “What? But I—I thought it was . . . someday. I thought Avery was gonna have a sibling _someday_ , not so soon. Not that I’d mind, but . . .”

“No, it’s fine because I’m breastfeeding,” she explained, pulling his pants down. “It’s like nature’s birth control for the first six months. As long as I keep doing it regularly.”

He looked surprised to hear that, almost as surprised as she’d been to find out that it could be so . . . beneficial. “Oh,” he said.

“Yeah. I talked to Dr. Jackson about it.” She pulled his underwear down, too, delighted by the sight of his hardened cock as it leapt out of its confines.

“So I really don’t need to wear a--”

“No.” Besides, they were getting married now. Condoms weren’t really a _married_ thing.

“Okay.” Eagerly, he stepped out of his jeans and underwear.

“Wow, you took so much convincing,” she noted sarcastically.

He smirked, shrugging. “I like to feel you.”

She had to remember to breathe when he said stuff like that, because he made it sound so fucking smoldering, and it literally made her feel like her knees were week. “I like to feel you, too,” she said, lifting her knee up to brush against his cock. “Mmm,” she moaned. That felt good.

Once again, he put his arms around her, but this time, his hands dove down into the back of her underwear, giving her ass a good squeeze. “You’re so sexy,” he whispered in her ear before he began to kiss her jaw and the side of her neck.

An excited tingle zipped through her, making her toes curl into the carpet, because she remembered him saying that to her during their first time, too. Was he doing the blast-from-the-past thing on purpose, or was it just an erotic coincidence?

She was so caught up in the way his mouth was sucking on her skin that she didn’t even realize her panties were off until all she felt on her backside were his large, calloused hands. Bellamy had a way of doing that, distracting her so much with kisses that she didn’t even realize he was getting her completely naked.

He backed her up towards the bed, helping her lie down carefully, and he crawled on top of her with a passionate look in his eyes. His brown irises always got a little darker when they made love. Or fucked. Either one, really. He just got so into it.

Naturally, as he situated himself on top of her, one of his hands came up to cup her breasts. It was typical for him to pay a lot of attention to them, and normally, she would have enjoyed it. But with their infant daughter using them as a food source, she had all sorts of worries about what might come out if they got too stimulated. “Not too much there,” she told him.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized, withdrawing his hand.

“It’s okay.” This was . . . sort of a first. For both of them. Some things were going to be more comfortable to her than others.

“I guess I’ll just have to . . . focus my efforts elsewhere,” he said, grinning as he slid down the bed a bit. He lowered his head and dropped a trail of kisses onto her stomach, traveling further downward as he gently urged her legs apart.

Oh, she wanted it, no doubt about that. Bellamy’s oral sex technique was a wondrous and remarkable thing, one she felt privileged to have experienced more times than she could count. But concerns about her own body still plagued her, so she closed her thighs and said, “Wait a minute,” before he could begin.

“Waiting,” he said, his face hovering close to her pussy.

She squirmed, wishing she didn’t feel self-conscious about anything at all. “Everything’s just a little . . . different down there.”

“Alright,” he said. Almost as if he didn’t think it was any big deal.

“No, I mean . . .” As much as she would have loved to do that with him, she felt like they needed to work their way up to it. “Just touch me,” she told him.

“Okay,” he said, still totally understanding as he sat back on his knees. Once again, he pulled her legs apart, and she closed her eyes, cringing inwardly. It felt _really_ different down there. In fact, she was pretty sure it’d never be the same.

As he began to stroke his thumb up and down her slit, he asked, “How’s that feel?”

It felt good, of course, but she’d done enough reading on sex after pregnancy to know that they were going to need a little help to get slickened up. “I think . . . you have to use a little lube,” she told him, feeling slightly bad because that wasn’t normal for them. “I’m turned on, I promise. It’s just . . . it’s harder to get wet.”

“Oh. Okay.” He slowly withdrew his hand.

“Just ‘cause of the breastfeeding. Not because of you,” she assured him. Everything he was doing was good and _felt_ good. Her body just had a different way of reacting right now.

As he crawled over to the side of the bed and opened up the nightstand drawer, he mumbled, “Do we even have anything besides anal lube?”

“Yes. You just have to look for it.” She reached down to touch herself a bit while he looked for it, but that didn’t feel nearly as good as him touching her, so there was no way that was going to get her any wetter. She gave up quickly and said, “Sorry this isn’t more sensual and romantic.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he said, finally locating the lube. “I’m havin’ a great time.” He squirted some directly onto his dick and rubbed it around.

“Really?” She couldn’t help but wonder if he was secretly annoyed by all these little changes.

He gave her a look and motioned to his crotch. “Clarke.”

Well, that _did_ speak for itself, didn’t it? He wouldn’t have been so obviously turned on if any of this was annoying him. “Okay, I believe you,” she said, rubbing her thighs together wantonly.

Bellamy got right back into position, bottle of lube now in hand, and smeared it all over her pussy, even on the inside of her legs. That made things feel a lot more normal when he began touching her again, first softly, and then a bit more insistently.

“Does that feel better?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.” When he put a finger inside her, she was relieved that she still felt it. It wasn’t like having a baby had completely dulled sensation there. And Bellamy, with his big fingers . . . damn, he knew just how to twist and turn them to get her going. And he knew exactly how to rub her clit to get her worked up even more.

“Oh . . .” she moaned, clutching at the pillow beneath her head. It hadn’t just been six weeks since she’d felt this. More like eight. And even though she’d been thinking about it and even dreaming about it a couple of times, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d wanted it until now. And this wasn’t even . . . it. At least not all of it. By her fiancé’s standards, this was just the pre-show.

“You like that?” he asked, grinning down at her. Even with the beard and the twenty-four years of manliness on his face, he still had that same flirty look in his eyes that he’d had when he’d done this to her back in high school.

“Yeah,” she breathed out. God, the public restroom blowjob the other night had been exhilarating, but being the one to receive the pleasure felt so long overdue. “I want you to fuck me, Bellamy,” she said suddenly, her words tumbling out on top of one another.

He stopped what he was doing with his hands and asked, “You sure?”

For a second, she once again thought back to the night he’d taken her virginity. When he’d asked her that same question. And just as she’d done back then, she nodded wordlessly.

Carefully, he crawled on top of her, holding himself up on one arm, using his other hand to guide his cock right to her entrance. _Is it gonna hurt?_ she wondered. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure what it was going to feel like.

She saw flickers of that senior in high school on top of her as he said exactly what he’d said to her back then: “Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

Stop? She needed him to _start_. Just to make that clear, she tried to push her hips up into him. He laughed a little, held onto his cock as he guided the tip of it inside her, then let go and pushed in further. Not all the way, but enough to stretch her. Enough where, if this would have been their first time, she would have probably cried out, and a few tears would have seeped from her eyes. But despite the overwhelming sense of _déjà vu_ , it didn’t hurt. And more importantly even than that, it felt . . . the same. _Familiar_. Bellamy was back inside her, and she couldn’t imagine any better feeling in the world.

He moved slowly at first, mostly just his hips, and kissed her lovingly and tenderly, almost as if to distract her from any discomfort she may have felt. But when it became clear to him that her body was willingly accepting him, that she wasn’t in any pain whatsoever, he began to thrust more fervently. His entire torso started sliding against hers, his chest, his stomach. And it got to the point where he began breathing so heavily that he had to tear his mouth away from hers and press it into her neck instead. He panted hotly against her skin, and she dug her head back into the pillow, fighting to haul in enough breath of her own.

“Oh, yeah,” she moaned, spurring him on. His cock felt so good in her, and his whole body felt so good and heavy on top of hers. The faster he moved, the slicker his skin became. He was sweating. And he’d gone non-verbal, which typically meant that he was _really_ into it.

She _really_ wanted to cum, so she wrapped her legs around him and pressed her heels into his ass, trying to let him know that she wanted him deeper. And he got the hint, because his next few thrusts hit differently. Not quite bottoming out, but still pretty far in. He was _really_ doing her.

When he started to groan and make all sorts of noises of his own, she knew he was close. And just the thought of him spilling himself inside her made her whole body tighten up. The good kind of tight, the kind that released itself seconds later and made her feel like she was flying. Her orgasm surged through every limb and every fiber of her body, from her toes to the tips of her fingers, and it seemed to trigger the same reaction in Bellamy. His whole body tensed atop hers, and his hips jerked forward spastically as he came. When he was done, his skin was drenched with his exertion, and he was breathing so hard that he couldn’t say anything. He tried to hold himself up, though, instead of collapsing on top of her, even though that was probably all he wanted to do.

“Oh, god, Bellamy . . .” she breathed, tangling one hand in his sweat-soaked hair. In that moment, she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. Maybe because they weren’t two separate people when they made love like this. There was no him, no her anymore. Only them.


	76. Chapter 76

_Chapter 76_

Two players collided together with a huge thud, and Clarke cringed. “Oof. That looks like it hurts.” It was cool to get to watch football practice, to see Bellamy in his element as a coach, but once the team actually started tackling, everything just got really painful.

Octavia, who sat beside her on the bleachers, had a much different reaction. “Looks fun.”

“It is,” Lincoln said, rubbing her shoulders, “until you can’t see straight.”

Clarke readjusted the top of Avery’s carrier to further shield her from the sun, asking, “What other sports did you play, Lincoln?” she asked.

“Oh, he played everything,” Octavia said, sounding proud.

He shook his head. “She exaggerates.”

“Don’t be so modest,” she said. “You told me you even played beach volleyball.”

He shrugged. “For fun.”

The thought of doing any sport just for fun was so foreign to Clarke, but that probably explained why Lincoln was in the physical shape that he was.

“Hey, we should play that sometime this summer,” Octavia said, motioning among them and out to Bellamy. “The four of us.” She beamed at Lincoln and predicted, “I bet we’d win.”

“Of course you would,” Clarke said. “Two athletes versus one. That’s not even a fair match.” Now _maybe_ if they were having a dance-off, she’d be able to contribute something. She just had to think back to all her old cheer routines.

“I don’t know, Clarke,” Lincoln said. “Octavia tells me you’ve been hitting the rec center a lot lately.”

She patted her tummy. “Just to try to get back in shape.” Although her body still wasn’t looking exactly the way she wanted it to look, she felt like she was seeing at least _some_ improvements.

“So what’s been the best workout so far?” Lincoln asked.

“Oh . . . you know.” She looked out at Bellamy, who looked so hot as he got out there on that field and demonstrated one of the plays to his hapless quarterback. His arms, his hands, his everything . . . “Treadmill,” she blurted, even though last night’s return to sex had by far been the best exercise she’d gotten in a long time.

“I’m more of an elliptical girl myself,” Octavia said. She wriggled Avery’s purple bunny around in front of her face, then asked—in a non-baby voice because Octavia made it clear that she just didn’t _do_ baby voices—“What about you, Avery? What do you do for exercise?”

“She’s been trying to roll herself over,” Clarke revealed. “They usually don’t do that until later, though.”

Octavia gasped exaggeratedly. “Do we have a child prodigy on our hands?”

Clarke laughed. “Who knows?” At the rate she was going, Avery was definitely going to be rolling herself over sooner than most babies did. So maybe she’d gotten some sort of athletic genes after all. “Are you guys good with her?” she asked. “I have to use the restroom.” Even though her body was getting back to normal, her bladder still wasn’t.

“Yeah,” Octavia said. “Oh, but you should go inside. The bathrooms down here are as sketchy as ever.”

“Noted.” Clarke actually remembered fooling around with Bellamy in those bathrooms once. But she’d insisted that Bellamy just hold her up and not let her body touch anything, because they’d been gross even back then.

Practice continued as she got up from the bleachers and headed back towards the school building. It felt like an impossibly long trek for someone who had to pee so urgently, but she managed to make it in time. She stayed in the toilet stall a little longer than necessary, just getting a kick out of some of the crap that girls had written on the walls and doors. Back in the day, there had been _so much_ written in there about Bellamy, but that had all been painted over now.

When she exited the bathroom and started walking down the halls with no need to pee urging her on, she took things at a more leisurely pace, taking a moment to recall what it had been like to be a student there. She’d barely set foot in the school since graduating, and even then, she hadn’t ventured far beyond the office. But when she rounded the corner and saw rows upon rows of dark green lockers lined up on either side of a long, empty hallway, she stopped walking and just stood there for a minute, remembering.

****

_Since her backpack was—for one day at least—lightweight, Clarke slung it over only one shoulder as she headed downstairs. Her mother, of course, was already awake, standing by the dining table with a cup of coffee in her hand. She seemed entranced as she looked out into the back yard, almost lost in thought, but the second she noticed Clarke, she put a smile on her face and said, “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you fell back asleep.”_

I wish, _Clarke thought. She would have loved to not have to go to school today._

_Her mom surveyed her outfit—black sweatpants and a loose-fitting white t-shirt—and cocked her head to the side curiously. “So that’s what you decided to wear?”_

_“Yeah.” Clarke looked down at the comfortable ensemble and bristled. “What’s wrong with it?”_

_“Nothing,” her mom said quickly, taking a sip of her coffee as if to stop herself from saying anything more._

_“I just didn’t feel like dressing up.” She was well aware that most of the girls would look all cute and fancy for the first day, and normally, she would have picked out something nicer to wear, too, would’ve done more with her hair than put it in a low ponytail. But she didn’t want attention or to be noticed at all, really. No need to stand out._

_“That’s fine,” her mom said, setting her coffee cup down. “Here, come stand in front of the fireplace. Let me get a picture.”_

_Clarke groaned as her mom grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the living room. “Are we really still doing this?”_

_“It’s tradition.” Her mom situated her in front of the fireplace, posing her almost like a mannequin, then backed up, took her phone out, and aimed it at her. Just like she’d done every single year on the first day of school since kindergarten. “Smile, Clarke,” she said._

_Clarke just stared at her, her expression unchanged because she didn’t feel like smiling._

_Her mom reluctantly snapped the photo anyway and mumbled, “I guess that’ll have to do.”_

_Yeah, it would, because unlike her, Clarke didn’t feel like she could plaster on a fake smile and act like this was just like any other first day. “I’m gonna head out now,” she announced, heading briskly towards the door._

_“Wait a minute,” her mom said. “Your dad’s taking you.”_

_She spun around, confused. “What? Why?”_

_“Because.” Her mother hesitated, looked her up and down, then spoke quietly when she said, “You had a surgery. You’re still recovering.”_

_Clarke scoffed inwardly at that. Was that how they were going to refer to it now, if they even referred to it at all? As a surgery instead of an abortion? “They said I could drive after twenty-four hours,” Clarke reminded her. “I’ll be fine.” It’d been almost forty-eight hours exactly now, so there was no reason she couldn’t get behind the wheel._

_“Clarke. Just let your dad drive you,” her mom said. “You two need to spend some time together.”_

_As much as she wanted to argue against it (because seriously, how embarrassing to have a parent drive her to school when she was almost seventeen now), Clarke couldn’t really deny that she and her dad did need some father-daughter time. They’d barely spoken in days, partially because she’d barely come out of her room. And whenever they were in the same room together, it was like he couldn’t even look at her. He was so ashamed. But was a car ride to school really going to change anything? She doubted it._

_Just as she’d anticipated, the drive with her dad was an awkward one. He turned on the radio to some oldies station, and even though it played a couple songs she happened to know for a fact that he loved, he didn’t sing along to them or even hum the melody. He was just stoic and silent, so she didn’t bother to say anything, either._

_When they pulled up outside the school, she felt a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. On the one hand, everything looked so normal: A few kids were piling off the busses, and mostly everyone was smiling and chattering as they filtered into the building. Nervous freshmen, however, scrambled inside with fear in their eyes, and confident upperclassmen loitered outside in the parking lot._

_But what if it wasn’t normal? The fear plagued her. What if somehow someone had found out about . . . everything? All it would have taken was for one person to snap one picture of her either entering or leaving that clinic in Baltimore, sending it off to someone, them sending it off to someone else. Things could go viral so quickly these days. Although highly unlikely, it wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility that someone might know._

_“Have a good first day,” her dad told her. There wasn’t even a hint of any genuine emotion in his voice, so clearly driving her here had not been his idea. It’d been her mom’s. He’d go home and tell her what a spectacular failure it had been, and they’d probably argue about it._

_Clarke didn’t even thank him for driving her, because to be honest, she was pissed that he hadn’t done or said something more to put her mind at ease. Here she was going back to school after the most life-altering decision she’d ever made, and he acted like he didn’t even care._

_Once she was out of that car, Clarke wasted no time heading for the main double doors. A bunch of kids were unloading from one of the busses at that point, so she fell into step with them, hoping to just blend in, but someone of course said, “Hey, Clarke,” and she couldn’t help but look up._

_“Hey.” It was Wells, headed back out to the parking lot. He’d probably forgotten a binder or something. He was the type of student who had color-coordinated binders for every one of his classes. He didn’t say anything more than that, and they just passed each other by, but still . . . someone had noticed her._

So much for being invisible, _she thought. It wasn’t going to happen. Hell, she’d been voted prom princess last year and everything._

_Because she hadn’t gone to the optional open house event last night, Clarke had no idea which locker had even been assigned to her that year, so she had to stop by the office and get her combo. She’d ended up in the same hallway as last year, mercifully distanced from most of the freshmen, but also all too close to where Bellamy’s locker had been last year. As she walked by, she noticed that a girl had it this year._

_Her locker, as it turned out, was a piece of crap. Either that or she was just putting in the combination wrong. She tried it repeatedly, each time having no success whatsoever, and eventually became so frustrated that she kicked at the damn thing. It still didn’t open, so she sighed frustratedly, took a deep breath, and readied herself for one more attempt._

_As she was spinning the lock, a large figure sidled up next to her. She barely glanced over but recognized Dax from the football team. “What’s up, Clarke?” he asked. “How was your summer?”_

_“Fine.” She tried to focus all her attention on the lock, spinning carefully from 33 back to 12._

_“How’s Bellamy?” he asked._

_Of course someone had to ask about him. Dax was the first, but he wouldn’t be the last. “Great, I guess,” she muttered._

_“You guess?”_

_“I haven’t talked to him.” She tugged up as hard as she could on the lock, but the door remained shut._

_Dax didn’t even bother to try to help her, instead probing into something that was none of his damn business. “Oh, really? Bad breakup?”_

_She spun the lock a few more times, debating whether or not she really cared about trying it again._

_“Well, if you need anything, I’m here for you,” he offered. “If you need . . . anything.”_

_She slammed her hand against the locker, keeping most of her frustration bottled up inside, and growled, “I don’t,” before making her way past him, backpack still slung over her shoulder. Did that guy think he was smooth or something? She wasn’t an idiot; she knew exactly what kind of ‘support’ he was offering._

_It seemed like a safe bet to just head straight to her first class, except that she’d barely gone over her schedule and couldn’t even recall what class that was, but at the end of the hallway, she spotted Raven, who immediately came scampering towards her excitedly._

_“Well, look who finally came out of hibernation,” her friend said. “God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”_

_Maybe it felt like that to her, but personally, Clarke would have loved to hibernate for a few more days. That just would have made people start to talk about her and gossip, though. “Nice outfit,” she said, noting her friend’s bold choice to wear black jeans and a red midriff that would probably get her dress-coded by the end of the day._

_“Thanks,” Raven said. She looked Clarke up and down and said, “You, too.”_

_Clarke looked down at her clothes again, disappointed that even a crappy outfit hadn’t been enough to deter a loser like Dax. Without Bellamy around, what were the guys gonna act like towards her? They probably thought she was easy now, and there would be no one in those football locker rooms to tell them that she was off limits._

_“God, it feels weird not having Zeke here,” Raven said, scoping out the halls._

_“Yeah,” Clarke agreed. But it wasn’t Zeke she was missing. She looked back at Bellamy’s old locker again, remembering the way she used to decorate it on game day for him. And sometimes he’d sneak up to her at_ her _locker, slip his arms around her waist, and give her cheek a big kiss._

_Not anymore, though. That was last year._

****

School hallways looked so different when they were abandoned. Just silent, no activity. The whole school building, in fact, was eerily quiet during the summer. But in a few more months, it would start back up again, and then those halls would be full of feelings and gossip and drama.

Clarke headed back outside, hoping for the students’ sake that none of their drama was as heavy as hers had been.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ta-da!” Clarke exclaimed as Bellamy pulled his gift out of the oversized sack she’d given him.

“It’s a jacket,” he said, trying to act more excited about it than he actually was. He smiled, holding it up, not sure what had possessed her to get him this for Father’s Day.

“Not just any jacket,” she told him, pulling open the sides. “See, it has room for diapers and toys and bottles and stuff.

“Oh, yeah.” It made sense now, he supposed, but still . . . did she really expect him to walk around with diapers inside his jacket? Poor Clarke just wasn’t the best when it came to finding gifts for him. He still had a poker set from Christmas that he’d never even played. But it was a good attempt, and he didn’t want her to feel bad, so he said, “This is awesome, babe. Where’d you find this?”

“Online,” she answered. “I figured you’d love not having to carry a diaper bag around.”

“Yeah.” Didn’t mean he wanted to _wear_ all the baby supplies, though. “I can just load myself up like a little pack mule.” He decided he’d wear it over to his mom’s or her mom’s house, but probably nowhere else. “My dad jacket,” he said, leaning forward so he could put it on. “Thank you. That’s nice.”

She smirked and said, “That’s not all, though.”

“It’s not?” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could feign excitement over gifts like this.

“Nope. Your daughter got you a gift, too,” she said, ducking into the laundry room.

“Oh, she did, did she?” He looked over at his Avery, whom they’d propped up with pillows on the corner of the couch, and she looked back at him with wide eyes.

“Yep. She went shopping with me and everything.” When Clarke re-emerged from the laundry room, she had a smaller gift sack in her hand this time, stuffed with tissue paper.

“What’d you get me?” he said to Avery. “You don’t have to get me anything.” Her mere existence was enough. Clarke’s, too.

“Happy Father’s Day,” Clarke said, setting the lightweight sack down on his lap.

He hesitated as he was about to reach into it, and admitted, “I feel bad.”

She frowned, confused. “Why?”

“Well, I feel like we just blew right past Mother’s Day ‘cause we were so tired and stressed,” he explained. “I know she was just a couple days, old, but it was your first Mother’s Day. I should’ve gone all out for it.” What had he even gotten her, a card? That was pathetic.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Just open your present.”

He still felt kind of guilty, but there was nothing he could do now but do better next year. “Wonder what it could be,” he said sarcastically as he reached in and felt a thin book. When he pulled it out, he saw a familiar cartoon of two animal-looking characters on the front and read the title. “ _Just Me and My Dad_.” He remembered reading some books like that with his mom when he was really little. Never dad-centric ones, though. Obviously. “Well, thanks, Avery,” he said. “Now I got somethin’ else to read to you.” He flipped through the pages, sort of stoked by the thought of how many times he was going to read that book, and all her books, really. Probably so many times that he’d have them all memorized and eventually be able to tell the story without even looking at the pages. “I’m gonna make sure she’s good at reading,” he vowed, not wanting her to encounter any of the same difficulties he had. “We’re gonna read every night. You know, once she’s a little older.”

Clarke smiled and sat down beside him, scooting in close. “You’re such a good dad,” she told him.

“Tryin’ to be.” It wasn’t like there was a guidebook or anything for either one of them. They both just had to figure it out as they went. “Thanks for this stuff, Clarke,” he told her. The book was kind of awesome. The jacket, on the other hand . . . still pretty ridiculous with all its storage and hidden compartments, but it was the thought that counted.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

He reached over and grabbed Avery, lifting her with one arm, snuggling her close to his stomach. “You know, I never really did anything for Father’s Day before,” he said, marveling at the newness of everything. “This is the first time.” Truth be told, he hadn’t even remembered when he’d woken up that it was Father’s Day. It was just a date that had never really meant anything to him before. Until now.

“Do you ever wonder about your dad?” Clarke asked him. “Like who he is, where he is?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. He didn’t really _like_ admitting that, though, because it almost made him feel like he was betraying his mom, who’d done so much for him growing up, who’d always been there for him. And knowing that he sometimes thought about his dad made him worry about the little girl in his arms doing the same someday. “Do you think Avery’s gonna wonder about Finn?” he asked her.

Clarke answered quickly. Very quickly. “No. Because she has you.”

That sounded great in theory, but he felt like it was inevitable that there were going to be conversations down the line, questions that they had to answer for her whether they wanted to or not. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his arm around his fiancée’s shoulders. He pulled her in close enough to kiss the top of her head, and everything just felt so _right_ and so _good_ with Avery in one arm, Clarke in the other, that he was able to push his concerns aside. His whole world was sitting right there on that couch with him on the first Father’s Day he’d ever celebrated, and he wanted to just be in the moment and soak it all in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once Clarke had done all her research and finally found a baby sunscreen she trusted, she decided to start taking Avery outside more. There was a nice park close to the elementary school that she’d never had any reason to go to before, but since it had sandboxes and playground equipment, she figured she’d end up spending a lot of time there over the years, and she might as well get used to it.

Of course, Avery was too little to do anything more than just sit in her stroller and take in all the activity. Clarke really wondered what everything looked like through her eyes. It had to be so new and so . . . wondrous. Every little thing she saw and heard and felt taught her something new about the world around her, and that was pretty incredible. She didn’t doze off while they were there. Her eyes were open and curious the whole time.

Clarke sat on a bench with the stroller beside her, watching what her little girl seemed to be watching: a boy playing in the sandbox, building some kind of misshapen sandcastle. He was totally focused on what he was doing, and Avery was totally focused on him. “Someday you’ll be old enough to play like that,” Clarke told her. “Doesn’t that look fun?”

Avery started to squirm a bit, and her face scrunched up. She didn’t start crying, though. Just a little fidgeting. When Clarke looked back out at the sandbox boy, she noticed him eating something. It was probably just wet sand, but since it was darker in color . . . well, it was hard telling just what was in a public sandbox. “Oh, that’s not so fun, though,” she said, cringing. Where was the mother? Surely she had to be noticing that he was eating something he shouldn’t. Clarke looked around, starting to worry that the boy was there on his own. But eventually, a tall brunette in desperate need of a bra and shorts that didn’t show her thong wandered up to the sidewalk and called out to him.

“Brodie!” she yelled. “What the hell are you doin’?”

Clarke recognized that voice, just barely, because she’d heard it at Eligius. Usually in between rounds of drinks. That was Roma yelling at her son, Bellamy’s sort of ex. Did the girl he’d lost his virginity to count as an ex?

Roma whipped out a cigarette and a lighter and began puffing away, all the while grumbling about her son. Horrible things like calling him a “pain in the ass” and a “little shit.”

“Time to go,” Clarke decided getting up in an attempt to swiftly push Avery’s stroller out of there. No need to be around secondhand stinkiness _or_ that kind of emotionally abusive parenting. She didn’t expect Roma to notice her leaving or pay any attention to her at all, so she was very surprised when she heard the woman yelling after her.

“What, you think you’re too good to be around me?”

She could have just kept going, and she probably should have, but the question caught her so off guard that she felt like she had to stop and turn around. “Excuse me?”

Roma blew a cloud of smoke out into the air and started to come towards her. “I said, do you think you’re too good to be around me?”

Clarke made a face. “What? No.” Why was this chick acting so upset? She hadn’t even said anything to her.

“Then why’re you leavin’?”

Clarke bent down, putting her hand over her daughter’s face just in case any of the smoke drifted her way. “I just don’t want my baby to be around smoke. That’s all.”

Roma stopped moving closer, threw her cigarette down, and put it out with her shoe. Then she closed the gap in between them even further, practically glared down at Clarke, and seethed, “Are you a good mom?”

What the hell was this? Clarke could feel the hostility coming off of the other woman in waves. “Yes,” she answered, standing up confidently.

Roma shot an unpleasant glance at Avery and asked, “So she hasn’t started driving you crazy yet?”

Clarke was actually so offended by that question that she had half the mind to launch into a tirade that included every profanity known to mankind. But Roma was a mom, too, a mom whose son wasn’t all that far away. And unlike Avery, he was old enough to be freaked out by the sounds of fighting. “Goodbye, Roma,” she said, hoping to put a quick end to the conversation. She turned back around, once again heading on her way, but this time, Roma followed her.

“Probably helps that you have Bellamy.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, annoyed that she wouldn’t shut up. “Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on your son?” she snapped.

“Ah, he’s fine,” Roma said dismissively. 

_Real hands-on parenting_ , Clarke thought sarcastically. But she kept her mouth shut, because she figured the best way to get Roma to go away was to not engage so much.

“Practically raising him by myself, you know. No help from anyone,” Roma bragged. Then she grunted and said, “But of course a pretty princess like you gets a knight in shining armor to come to her rescue. Not that you deserve him.”

Clarke gripped the handles of Avery’s strolling so tightly, she saw her own knuckles turn white. Dammit, as much as she told herself not to give in and give Roma what she wanted, which was clearly just a reaction, but not standing up for herself didn’t feel right. Once again, she stopped walking, and this time, she whirled back around and spoke louder. “You got a problem with me?”

“No,” Roma replied. “I’m just pissed.” She slurred that last word.

“Pissed and drunk,” Clarke muttered. God, she could even smell the alcohol on her breath now that she was closer.

Roma either didn’t hear that or just ignored it, because she kept on going. “It pisses me off that you can do what you did, and you still get this dream life with your dream guy. And what do I get? Jack shit, that’s what.”

“You don’t know anything about me or my life,” Clarke growled. Sure, maybe she’d had more opportunities and good things than Roma had, but it didn’t mean she’d gone twenty-two years with no hardship whatsoever.

“Sure I do,” Roma claimed. “Rich parents. Fancy house. Fairytale. Until you had that pesky abortion, of course.”

Clarke tried not to tense up, but she did. Just a little bit. And Roma probably noticed.

“But that doesn’t seem to matter, because Bellamy just forgave you.” Roma laughed angrily. “And now you guys are back to livin’ the dream.”

As much as she would have loved to have a quick, snappy comeback for that, Clarke just didn’t. This whole confrontation had thrown her for a loop. She hadn’t come to the park expecting something like this. She’d expected to just have a nice mother/daughter day with Avery. And now that felt ruined. “You know what? Just stay away from me,” Clarke told Roma, making sure there was a warning tone to her voice and not a quiver. This time, when she turned to walk away, she kept walking, and Roma didn’t call after her or make any attempt to follow.

_Good._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Can you believe that?” Clarke ranted. She took a big gulp of the glass of water her mom had given her, wishing it was something like wine. Or a shot. She really could have used something to take the edge off, because she was _definitely_ on edge after the Roma fiasco. “I mean, for someone to have the _audacity_ to come up to me and say stuff like that . . .”

Her mom sat down next to her at the counter, holding her sleeping granddaughter in her arms. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “People can be so thoughtless and cruel. But it sounds like you handled it well.”

Clarke sighed, wishing she could have done or said something more to stand up for herself. “I stayed calm, but it still kind of rattled me,” she confessed. How easy it would have been to just be one of those people who didn’t care what anyone else thought of her. But she _had_ done things, things people had strong opinions on, and unfortunately, it was public knowledge. “It’s just, I barely even know the girl, and she still had so much animosity towards me,” she said. “It was weird.”

“Well, she’s probably just jealous,” her mom wagered. “What’s her name again?”

“Roma.” Clarke rolled her eyes, because now, just that name left a bitter taste in her mouth. She’d never had much of an opinion on the girl before.

“And you went to high school with her?”

“No, but Bellamy did. They kinda . . .” She trailed off, not sure how much info Bellamy would want her to divulge, and left it at, “Well, you know.”

Her mom’s eyebrows arched, and she nodded slowly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Clarke had to chalk that one up to Bellamy having poor, perverted ninth grade judgment at the time, because there was no way he’d had a crush on her or anything like that.

“Well, then she’s _definitely_ jealous,” her mom said.

“I don’t know.” That may have been part of it, but it seemed like it ran deeper. “She seemed really angry. Resentful. I don’t think her life’s turned out the way she wanted it to.” Had she not acted like such a raging bitch today, Clarke actually would have felt sorry for her.

“Then maybe she’s just taking things out on you,” her mom said. “It’s probably not even personal after all. You can’t let it get to you.”

“I know.” Clarke looked down at the bottom of her now empty glass, mumbling, “But it does.” If Roma had come at her about anything else, like her appearance or something shallow like that, she would have been able to just let it roll off her shoulders. But she’d brought up something so personal, something that was going to linger with her forever, and that _did_ affect her. It probably always would. “I mean, I know the past can’t just be swept under a rug; I don’t expect that,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s anyone else’s business. And—and is this what it’s gonna be like when I chaperone field trips someday and go to PTO meetings? ‘cause I’m gonna be on the PTO. Or PTA. Whatever they call it. I already decided.”

Her mom smiled at her a bit.

“Are people gonna be side-eyeing me and gossiping about me then?” Clarke wondered, really hoping that things would change. “And is Avery gonna have to deal with the fallout?” She sniffled, willing herself not to cry, even though she felt like it. “That’s what worries me most. Like, if she wants to have a big birthday party someday and invite all the girls in school, what if some parents forbid their kids from coming, just because they don’t like me? Just because they’ve passed judgment on me.”

“Oh, honey, I don’t think that’ll happen,” her mom assured her.

“It could, though.” Just the thought of her little girl paying the price for any of this, even if it was just something like a birthday party . . . it broke her heart.

“Don’t worry about it,” her mom said softly. “Just focus on the good things.”

That was what Clarke kept trying to do, because really, there were _so_ many good things. And one of the best things was sleeping in her grandmother’s arms. The other one was at football practice.

“What about you?” she asked her mom. “Has anyone at work asked you about it?”

“No,” her mother said. “But I’m sure there’s been talk. That’s what people do, after all. They talk.”

_A lot_ , Clarke thought sullenly. _Especially in smaller towns._

“It doesn’t matter what they think, though,” her mom reminded her. “That’s what I keep telling myself. I’m happy, and you’re happy. We’re both engaged, and we have the most amazing new addition to our family.”

Clarke looked down at Avery, with her thin little wisps of blonde hair and her barely visible eyelashes. She looked so peaceful and content, because for now, none of this other stuff affected her. It didn’t confuse her the way it someday might. And it didn’t upset her, because she didn’t understand it yet.

“You’re right,” Clarke said, focusing on her little girl. “It doesn’t matter.”


	77. Chapter 77

_Chapter 77_

When the alarm sounded, Clarke didn’t even bother to reach over and shut it off. She knew Bellamy would stretch right over her and do it instead, and indeed he did, after letting it buzz annoyingly for about ten seconds. Her cell phone would chime five minutes from now, and his would go off five minutes after that. They had to set a lot of alarms these days, because it was really tempting to just fall back asleep.

“Morning,” Bellamy murmured, spooning up behind her.

“Mmm, morning,” she moaned sleepily, reluctant to open her eyes. Surely she could get a few more minutes before she needed to get up and feed Avery, right?

 _Avery_. She stiffened, listening closely to the sound of silence. There was no noise coming from across the hall. No gurgling, which was usually was Avery did when she was about to wake up. “Wait a minute,” she said, opening her eyes. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” Bellamy asked.

“No crying.” Since she was a mom, that meant she was automatically paranoid, so her hand shot over to the nightstand to seize her phone. She checked her baby monitor app and saw that her daughter was still snoozing away in her crib, her tiny little feet kicking and moving a bit as she dreamt.

Flipping over onto her back, Clarke showed Bellamy the image on her phone in astonishment. “She’s still sleeping,” she said. “Bellamy, it’s 7:00, and she’s still sleeping. It’s a miracle.” Had they really gotten almost five uninterrupted hours of rest? She’d almost forgotten that was possible.

“You’re right,” Bellamy said, sounding equally as amazed. “And you know what this means?”

 _She’s gonna start sleeping through the night in the next few months_ , Clarke thought, feeling all kinds of hopeful. More restful was surely in her future.

But Bellamy had other ideas. “We’ve probably got about ten minutes to wake each other up,” he said, crawling on top of her. He took her phone out of her hand for her and began kissing her, and that bulge she’d felt pressing into her backside now ground against her lower abdomen. Oh, yeah, she was down for a quickie.

Unfortunately, Avery must have had some sort of internal radar that alerted her whenever her parents were about to get frisky, because she chose that moment of all moments to start crying. There was no build-up, no crescendo. She went from sleeping peacefully to letting out the most needy noise Clarke had ever heard. And it totally killed the mood. She and Bellamy stopped kissing, and she almost laughed at the timing of all of this. “Ten minutes, huh?”

“Dammit,” he swore.

Yeah, she had to laugh, despite what a bummer it was. A little wake-up sex would have been a good way to start the day, but that just wasn’t so easy to do anymore. “I got this,” she said, slithering out from underneath him.

“Okay.” He lay back and announced, “I’m just gonna stay here and jack off.”

“You do that.” She would have loved to have been able to help him with that, but . . . mommy obligations. She couldn’t ignore them.

Once Bellamy left for work, Clarke worked her way through a mental to-do list for the morning. Laundry, dishes, and all sorts of other monotonous housewife stuff. But once she got all that out of the way, she was able to squeeze in a little music time with Avery, a routine she was trying to implement consistently. She played baby music for her, sat her up on the couch, and moved her arms around for her in time with the beat. Avery seemed to like it, and everything Clarke had read about music said it was good for a baby’s development, so it was a win-win.

Feeling a little cabin fever in the afternoon, Clarke decided she had to get out of the house for a while. It worked out perfectly, too, because Octavia had just texted her yesterday about spending time with Avery. So she roped her in as a babysitter and made gym plans with Harper. In between dropping Avery off at Octavia’s and meeting up with Harper, though, she swung by Eligius with a few hand-drawn fliers she’d created a couple days ago. She’d stashed them in her vehicle’s glove compartment, not sure she would ever actually hang them up, but the stay-at-home mom routine was starting to drain her a bit. She needed to interject something new into all her routines.

Diyoza was there, of course, as per usual. It really seemed like that woman lived at the bar. Since the lunch rush had come and gone, it was pretty empty in there, just two old men sitting at a window booth drinking coffee. Diyoza was in the middle of reorganizing the cash in the register, but when she looked up and saw Clarke, she closed it. “Hey, stranger,” she said. “What brings you by?”

“Just wanted to say hi,” Clarke said, although she definitely had an ulterior motive in the form of five neon-colored papers in her left hand. “And see if I could hang up a flier,” she admitted.

“Sure,” Diyoza said. “What for?”

“I need to have some money coming in, so I decided to offer music lessons.” Clarke lay the fliers down on the counter, hoping they were eye-catching enough. She’d opted for a cartoony style of font and drawings, all done in just black Sharpie. All the necessary info was on there, but she didn’t feel like it looked too cluttered.

“Vocal, guitar, and piano,” her former boss read. “Very impressive.”

“Well, I’m not the world’s best musician or anything,” Clarke said modestly. “But I’m not bad. Decent enough to offer lessons.” She’d cringed as a little girl when her mom and dad had told her they wanted her to take piano lessons. But after she’d excelled at that, she’d been able to teach herself how to play the guitar. And the singing stuff had always just come naturally. “Can you believe it?” she said. “Four years in college studying biology, and this is what I’m trying to do for work.”

“Hey, do what you love,” Diyoza said. “I think it’s great.”

It definitely wasn’t going to be hugely profitable, but it wasn’t going to be super time-consuming, either. It was a simple, enjoyable way to make a little extra money and have something to do that wasn’t in a mom-capacity. “What do you think about the price?” she asked, willing to lower it if need be. “Would people actually pay that?”

Diyoza looked down at the bottom of the flier and quickly assured her, “Oh, yeah. I would, if I wasn’t so damn busy all the time. I’d love to play guitar.” She turned around and tacked the neon yellow flier up onto a board behind the bar. “There. How’s that look?”

“Very nice,” Clarke said, figuring she could hang the other fliers at the post office and a couple gas stations. “Hey, sorry I can’t come back to work here, by the way,” she apologized. “It’s just, I wanna be with Avery a lot right now.”

“Of course. Can’t blame you for that,” Diyoza said. “Where is she anyway?”

“Oh, my future sister-in-law’s watching her today because I’m gonna go work out with my friend,” Clarke replied.

Diyoza smiled. “I heard about that.”

Clarke made a face. “Me working out?” Were people in this town gossiping about her body now, too? Was it Roma? Or Callie?

“No, the sister-in-law. The engagement,” Diyoza clarified. “Congratulations.”

“Oh, thank you.” That was a much better part of her life for people to be talking about.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the rock on your finger.”

Clarke lifted up her hand, admiring the pretty ring. “He did a good job.”

Diyoza grunted, “Better than my ex-husband did.”

It took a moment for that to register with Clarke. “Wait a minute, you were married?” For some reason, she’d always pictured Charmaine Diyoza as the ultimate single woman, never impressed by a man enough to marry him.

“Seven years ago. For about three months,” she said. “Three months of hell, I’ll tell you that.”

 _Hell?_ Clarke thought. _How encouraging._

“But I’m sure your marriage will be a lot better,” Diyoza added.

Of course it would be. Just the thought of marrying Bellamy made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was just meant to be, always had been.

“Oh, you might wanna duck in the back,” Diyoza told her suddenly.

“Why? Did my pants rip?” She swung her hand around to cover what she was sure would be a hole in her leggings.

“No, it’s . . . your ex is here,” Diyoza said quietly.

“What?” Clarke whipped her head around.

“Don’t look,” Diyoza hissed.

 _Crap_ , she thought, wishing she could just make herself invisible. “Do you think he noticed me?”

Diyoza cringed. “Yeah. Good luck.” She headed over to the men in the booth with a fresh pot of coffee in her hand, and Clarke mentally debated whether or not she’d look too crazy if she just sprinted into the back room and hide out there for a while. Except she couldn’t hide out for long, because Harper was expecting her at the gym in fifteen minutes.

“Hey, Clarke.”

 _Too late_ , she realized, slowly turning around. “Finn.” She couldn’t exactly smile when she saw him, but she didn’t want to seem like a bitch, either, so she tacked on a pathetic little, “Hey,” hoping that would be the full extent of the conversation.

But of course it wasn’t. “How you been?” he asked.

“Good. Really good.” She fiddled with her ring a bit, wondering if he would notice it the way Diyoza had.

“And Avery?” he questioned.

“She’s good, too.” Clarke suddenly felt even more grateful for Octavia for being the babysitter today. If she’d had Avery with her, then Finn would have wanted to hold her again, and that was just so awkward.

“I just was walking by when I saw your car. Thought I’d pop in,” Finn explained. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and didn’t say anything more for a few seconds. When he did speak again, it was to say, “So I heard about you and Bellamy.”

“Really? How?”

“Well, it was in the paper,” he said. “Plus, you posted about it on Instagram.”

“Oh, yeah.” No wonder everyone knew.

“I was only on your Instagram to see pictures of Avery,” he told her. “And I saw you posted a video of her taking a bath. That was pretty cool.”

Clarke couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably at the thought of Finn watching that. It wasn’t really weird or anything, but . . . it was weird to think of Finn sort of living out that moment from behind a screen. When she took her first steps, Clarke hoped to get that on video, too, but if she posted it online, then Finn would get to feel like he was there to see it. And he wouldn’t be. He wasn’t meant to be.

“But anyway . . .” Finn said, trailing off. “Uh, yeah, congratulations to you and Bellamy. That’s great.”

 _Do you really think it’s great?_ Clarke wondered. _Or are you just saying that?_ She chose to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe the former. “Thanks,” she said, leaving it at that because, well, she still didn’t feel the need to get all chatty.

Blessedly, Finn, too, seemed willing to put an end to the conversation, because he said, “I’ll see you around,” as he started to back towards the door.

 _Oh, can’t wait_ , she thought sarcastically. Couldn’t Finn just get a new girlfriend or something? Something to distract him and draw all his attention elsewhere?

For some reason, she’d been expecting to feel . . . maybe a little relieved when he was gone. Another little encounter over. It’d gone smoothly enough. So it confused her when she didn’t automatically feel better. In fact, if anything, as she stood there next to that bar counter alone, absentmindedly listening to Diyoza talking to her customers about how hot of a summer they were having so far, she started to feel worse. Her stomach tightened and knotted up even more than it had when Finn had walked in, and she began feeling very uncomfortable. It took her only a few seconds to understand why. It was because that talk with him had been _too_ easy. But she knew something he didn’t, something huge, and it was hard to keep something like that inside.

****

_Only three days into the school year, classes were already intense. Junior year was no joke, and it was keeping Clarke busy. But she was actually grateful for that. It was actually good for her to have homework to focus on. And her chemistry teacher had strongly hinted that they’d be doing pop quizzes every Monday,_ difficult _pop quizzes. Which meant she had to study every night. She was probably the only student who was happy about that._

_Even when she wasn’t in class, Clarke still found it to be the best distraction. During her free period, she planted herself at a table in the cafeteria, laid out every book and binder she needed, and worked determinedly on her math homework first, then English, then whatever else she had. She wouldn’t have minded having more._

_Usually no one bothered her, but on the third day of school, someone approached her at her table and said, “Hey, Clarke.”_

_She barely glanced up, because she was so in the zone. “Hey, Mrs. Sydney.” Most kids would have dreaded seeing the principal come towards them, but she knew she wasn’t in trouble. She’d been the ideal student so far this year._

_Mrs. Sydney sat down next to her. “Busy studying already, huh?”_

_Clarke shrugged. “You know, junior year. They like to pile the homework on.” She flipped her pencil over to erase furiously. She’d gotten an illogical answer for the last math problem on her assignment. Damn story problems._

_“I’m sure you can handle it,” her principal said. “Well, listen, I need to have a quick chat with you about your schedule. You don’t have a class right now, correct?”_

_“Right.” She only had a damn math problem to solve._

_“Hmm. See, that’s a problem,” Mrs. Sydney said, “because only seniors are allowed to have free periods.”_

_Clarke stopped working, feeling like she knew where this was going. “Not juniors?”_

_“No. We discussed that at open house night, remember?”_

_“I wasn’t at open house night,” Clarke informed her. She’d been too busy recovering from her . . . surgery._

_“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Sydney said. “Well, we can just fix it now. It’s no big deal. We just need to find a class that fits into your schedule.” She took out a piece of paper that had a big chart on it, one that listed every teacher and every class they taught throughout the day, and slid it towards Clarke. “We’re a little limited for options in seventh period, and since you’re in choir, that makes things more difficult to switch around,” she said. “But you’ve got a few choices. Algebra II?”_

_Clarke tapped her textbook with her pencil and said, “I’m in college algebra.”_

_“Oh, that’s right.” Principal Sydney whipped out a pen and crossed out Algebra II on the chart. “Well, it’s pretty much gonna have to be an elective then. Let’s see . . . economics . . .”_

_“Already took it.” She scanned the rest of the classes that would be an option for her, and she was afraid she knew what the principal was about to suggest._

_“It’d probably end up being child development then.”_

No, _Clarke thought fearfully._ No way.

_“I mean, I think you’d have more of an interest in that than woodworking.”_

_Last year, she would have. Last year, she would have taken that class with no problem. But this year, it was a huge problem, too big of one to overcome. “No,” she said adamantly, not even willing to consider it._

_“No?” Mrs. Sydney echoed._

_“No.” She stared at the title of that class, just two words on the page, both of which were filling her with absolute dread. “No, I don’t wanna be in child development. I don’t wanna do that.”_

_“Well, it’s only for a semester.”_

_“I don’t care!” she yelled, her feeling of panic coming out. “I can’t . . . I can’t be in there. Please, just—just put me in the other class. I’ll do woodworking. I don’t care.” Could she be any clearer? She wasn’t setting foot in some stupid class about kids. Nobody could make her._

_“Are you sure?” Mrs. Sydney asked._

_“Yes.” She didn’t even care if she sucked at woodworking and it destroyed her GPA. Wells was going to get valedictorian anyway._

_“Okay,” Mrs. Sydney said. “I’ll get your schedule changed.” Slowly, she stood up from the table, but she’d only taken a few steps when she turned back around and asked, “Is everything okay, Clarke?”_

_No, nothing was okay. But she’d been able to forget about it, all of it, until right now. If she’d just been able to sit there and work on her homework and do her studying, then her hands wouldn’t have started shaking, and she wouldn’t have tears stinging her eyes. Mrs. Sydney was not a guidance counselor, though, and even the school’s actual guidance counselor didn’t know what she’d done over the summer. And she never would. Nobody would._

_“Yeah,” she lied, bringing it back inside, covering it all up. She even managed a smile and a “Thanks.” And apparently that was enough, because her principal didn’t ask any more questions. She nodded, accepted that blatant lie, and headed back to the office. And Clarke wasted no time getting right back to work._

****

She knew she had to tell him. It wasn’t like it was going to stay a secret forever. Nothing ever did.

Clarke left her fliers on the counter and ran out after Finn, catching up with him at the street corner. “Hey, Finn!” she called, stopping him just as he was about to cross the street. “You have a minute? There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Uh-oh,” he said with a half-grin on his face. “Last time you said those words to me, you ended up telling me you were pregnant.”

That wasn’t something to joke about. Telling him had been horrible, especially with how he’d reacted. But of course he hadn’t really given any consideration to her feelings then, so she figured she didn’t have to sugarcoat things for the sake of his feelings now. “Once Bellamy and I get married . . . he wants to adopt Avery,” she revealed to him, feeling like he had to have at least suspected this would happen. “And I want that, too.”

His little grin faded in an instant, and he got serious very quickly. “Just like that, huh? I don’t even get a say?”

“Finn . . .”

“She’s my daughter, too, you know.”

That was where he was wrong, though. It was like he just used that word without actually realizing what it meant. “It takes more than DNA to be a father,” she told him, eliciting a wince. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but . . . Bellamy and I can give her a real family,” she said. “It’s what she deserves.”

He looked down, swallowed hard, then mumbled, “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know anything about having a real family.” With tears in his eyes, tears that looked legitimate and genuine, he trudged across the street without another word. He wasn’t playing it up for sympathy. He was actually hurt. And she actually felt a little bit bad about it. Obviously she wasn’t going to change her mind, but . . . she and Finn _had_ been close at one time. Sort of. They’d talked about his upbringing, what it had been like for him as a kid bouncing around the foster system. He really didn’t have any family, at least not yet. But she honestly hoped, for his sake, that he did have one someday. It just wouldn’t be with her and Avery.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What was supposed to have just been a regular day had ended up being surprisingly stressful. In the interest of full transparency, Clarke talked to Bellamy when he got home from practice, telling him about the brief but important conversation she’d had with Finn that day. She knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but she couldn’t lie to him and say that Finn hadn’t had any reaction to it. Because he definitely had.

“So you think he’s gonna fight it?” Bellamy finally asked. It was the obvious question. He stood next to the stove, arms crossed tightly over his chest, doing his best to disguise his worry.

“No,” she said, slicing up some potatoes on the cutting board. “He was just upset.” She got going so quickly that she nearly sliced her own finger and decided to slow down. She still wasn’t the greatest cook, so cooking and talking at the same time wasn’t exactly easy. Especially not when they were talking about something so serious.

“Yeah, well, now I’m upset,” Bellamy muttered. “Why’d you tell him?”

“I had to,” she said. “You can’t adopt her if he doesn’t sign off on it.”

Bellamy’s whole body tensed up. It was noticeable.

“Which he’s going to,” she made sure to add. “He didn’t say he was gonna give us any problems. Just try to think positive.” She slid the potato slices off the cutting board and into a bowl, then turned around and dumped that bowl into the pot. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was trying to make, but she figured that if she put some vegetables in there, it’d turn into something.

Bellamy shook his head, swearing, “Fuck, I should’ve just signed that birth certificate myself.”

“That’s paternity fraud,” she reminded him.

“Like hell it is,” he grumbled, looking at the ground.

She sighed. As much as she would have loved to have Bellamy’s name on that all-important document, it just wasn’t allowed. But maybe they could get it changed, though, once everything became . . . official.

“I’m talking legally here, Bellamy,” she said. “You know you couldn’t have done that. You know we have to go about this in the right way.”

“The right way,” he repeated sullenly. “Alright, fine. So what do we do?”

She wasn’t sure why he was asking her when she didn’t know anything more about it than he did. “We do . . . exactly what we planned on doing,” she said, reaching for another potato to start slicing it up. “We talk to Finn, get him to understand that this is what’s best for everyone involved. He agrees to relinquish his parental rights, and then you can adopt her.” She knew it was like a knife in Bellamy’s heart to hear her talk about any rights Finn had, because he hadn’t done anything to earn or deserve them. But that was the kind of language they were going to need to grow accustomed to while they worked all of this out. She felt the need to reassure him, though, to put his mind at ease, so she added on, “Nothing’s changed now that he knows.”

He nodded silently for a few seconds, still looking upset, still _sounding_ upset, too, when he said, “Yeah, hopefully not.” He turned and headed for the stairs, and she knew he was going up to the nursery to spend some time with Avery, probably just to watch her sleep. That seemed to be what he did whenever Finn made an unwanted cameo appearance in their lives.

The pot on the stove was really starting to boil now, perhaps too much, so she turned down the heat and picked up the knife again, ready to resume slicing up the potatoes. Except . . . getting dinner ready didn’t really seem all that important anymore. In fact, she wasn’t even hungry. She didn’t want to sit and eat; she wanted to go be with Bellamy. Clearly this was bothering him, and because it bothered him, it bothered her, too. She just had to remind herself that it wouldn’t always weigh so heavily on their minds, though. Once they got married, then things would probably progress pretty naturally from there.

She made one big slice through the middle of the potato, then stopped as an idea occurred to her. A way to get things moving, to speed up the process. A way to make her family a “real” family in the eyes of the law.

Clarke turned the heat on the stove down as low as possible, put the cutting knife down on the counter, and raced upstairs, heading straight for the nursery. Bellamy, as expected, was in there, holding onto the side of the crib while he gazed down at the little girl asleep in it.

“Do you wanna get married?” she blurted out.

He gave her a confused look, waiting a moment. “Uh . . . yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’s why I got proposed to you. Twice.”

“No, I mean now,” she tried to clarify. It wasn’t lost on her that this room was the first place he’d popped the question. And now she was kind of turning the tables and doing it to him.

“Like right now?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Or tomorrow. We could, you know,” she said, smiling at him eagerly. “If that would make you feel better about everything, put your nerves at ease . . .” She walked into the room, closing the gap between them so she could put her hands on his chest. “We could just drive to the courthouse and do it there.” She didn’t have any white dresses in her closet, but she had some nice ones. If any of them still fit, they would work. “It doesn’t matter if it’s not fancy. It doesn’t need to be,” she assured him. “We can just get married, and then maybe this whole adoption thing will be easier.”

“Clarke, I . . .” He grabbed hold of her wrists and removed her hands from his chest, holding them in his own. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife. And to be your husband,” he said. “And maybe it would make me feel a little better, but . . .” He made a face. “I don’t wanna take you to the courthouse. I want you to have a real wedding.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” she said. “It’s real no matter what.”

“Yeah, you say that, but . . .”

She exhaled, running through options in her mind. Truth be told, she didn’t exactly want one of the most important days of her life to take place in a courthouse. And she didn’t want to have to wear some dress she already owned, and she didn’t want to rush her vows to have them ready by tomorrow. But she didn’t want to be one of those couples who was engaged for months, either. “Well, okay, maybe not tomorrow then,” she decided, “and maybe not the courthouse, but . . .” She trailed off, took a moment to just picture their wedding, and one image automatically came to mind. “Here, come with me,” she said, pulling on his hand. “Come on.” She led him out of the nursery and onto the balcony that looked out over the beach. It was a beautiful night, beautiful sunset. The wind was just right, and the waves were so steady and calm coming into shore. “Look. Look at this. Look where we live,” she said, gesturing out to the ocean. “We could get married right out here, and it’d be amazing. I could find a dress, and you could find a tux or a suit or something, and I’m sure you could whip up some pretty incredible vows in no time at all.”

“Well . . . yeah,” he said, smirking.

She laughed lightly. “See? This doesn’t need to be some long, drawn-out engagement. We could have the wedding next week or the week after that.”

He looked out at the scenery they woke up to every morning, and she wondered if he was seeing it through brand news eyes the way she suddenly was. That beach right there could be the one they said ‘I do’ on. It could be the place where they made the ultimate commitment to each other, made a promise to be together forever. “Bellamy . . .” she said softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “We’ve been in love with each other for years, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair.

She gazed at him intently, lovingly, feeling so ready to be his wife and for him to be her husband. “Then what are we waiting for?” she asked, not at all surprised when he couldn’t come up with any answer to that question.


	78. Chapter 78

_Chapter 78_

Clarke waited as patiently as she could for her friends to show up at Eligius for the brunch she’d hastily scheduled with them last night. But she wasn’t patient. Not only were the smells from the kitchen driving her mad with hunger, she also couldn’t wait to get everyone together so she could tell them about . . . everything.

Raven was the first to show up, fifteen minutes late, hair falling out of her signature ponytail. “Hey. Sorry I’m late,” she apologized. “Murphy was going through one of his rare romantic phases this morning, so I had to take advantage of it by getting all naked with him.”

Clarke cringed at the thought of Murphy in his birthday suit.

“TMI?” Raven asked, sitting down at the table.

“No,” Clarke told her. “Get it while you can.” Hell, if she and Bellamy were still able to have mornings like that, she would have gladly shown up late, too.

“Where’s Harper?” Raven asked, picking up a menu.

“I guess she’s running late, too,” Clarke said. It also wasn’t like her to not be on time.

“And who else is coming?”

“Octavia.” Her lateness was less surprising.

“Not that I mind hanging out with her,” Raven said, “but does she have any friends her own age?”

Clarke thought about it, unsure. “Maybe. But she likes us better.”

“We’re very likable,” Raven said, smirking. “And you’re soon to be her family.”

_Sooner than you know_ , Clarke thought, the anticipation continuing to build.

Harper came in next, looking a little . . . flushed. “Hey, guys. Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “Monty and I were . . . spending time together.”

_Obviously_ , Clarke thought. In addition to being flushed, Harper was rocking some sex hair.

“I can totally relate,” Raven said, grinning. They went on to call waitress over and order lots of food, while Clarke just ordered two scrambled eggs and toast. She was hungrier for more, but in between trying to lose weight and not having sex as a regular workout anymore, she was more determined to watch her portions.

When Octavia finally showed up nearly twenty-five minutes late, she wasn’t apologetic about it. She just strolled in as if she were on time and announced, “I’m here, I’m here.”

“I swear to God,” Clarke grumbled, “if you were having sex with Lincoln . . .”

“Oh, no,” Octavia said. And for a second, Clarke felt less envious. Until she added, “I was having oral sex with Lincoln.”

Huffing in exasperation, Clarke finally allowed herself to vocalize her frustration. “Was everyone getting some this morning except me?” That just wasn’t fair.

“Oh, it’s okay, Clarke,” Raven assured her. “I’m sure your morning was exciting, too.”

“Yeah, tell us about it,” Harper invited.

“Well . . .” She tried to come up with something about her morning that was story-worthy, but all she could think of was, “Avery had a slightly less poopy diaper than normal.” She knew none of them would understand. And indeed, Raven looked confused while Harper tried her best to smile and nod. Octavia looked like she was having to hold in laughter. “Look, when you have a kid, everything changes,” Clarke told them. “You’ll understand why that’s exciting someday.”

“Hey, it’s fine by me,” Octavia said. “I don’t wanna hear about you screwing my brother anyway. I heard enough of that growing up.”

“No way,” Clarke said doubtfully. “We were very quiet.”

“No, you weren’t,” Octavia readily informed her.

_But we tried so hard_ , Clarke thought. Whenever they’d decided to do it when Octavia had been home, they’d gone out of their way just to whisper.

“Well, hey, if you want some alone time with your man, just let me and Murphy know,” Raven told her. “We can watch Avery tonight, or any night this week, really.”

“Same,” Octavia added.

“Yeah, I’m pretty available, too,” Harper offered.

Clarke knew they probably all expected her to take full advantage of their offers, which were super generous, but she couldn’t bear the thought of a night without her daughter. When she thought of that, all she could picture was Avery waking up in the middle of the night, crying for her mama and her mama not being there. “Thanks, you guys, but we’re kinda attached to her,” she said. “We’re not ready to spend the night away from her yet.”

“Who’s watching her today?” Octavia asked.

“Kane. He had the day off.” She already planned to stop over that afternoon just to check up on them, though. “I’m glad it worked out for all of us to get together today, though,” she went on, “‘cause . . . well, I have something to tell all of you guys.”

Harper and Raven glanced at each other curiously, and Octavia’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Oh my god,” she said dramatically. “Are you pregnant again?”

“Oh, god no. Nothing like that.” Just the thought of going through that whole nine-month process all over again so soon sounded like torture. “I just wanted to let you guys know, as my bridesmaids, that . . . Bellamy and I might be getting married sooner rather than later.”

“Oh?” Raven said, her eyebrows arching upward with intrigue. “How soon?”

“Very,” Clarke replied. “Like maybe next week.”

“What?” Raven shrieked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s _so_ soon.”

“I know. But we really don’t wanna wait.” She wasn’t about to bring up Finn and his particular role in speeding things along, because that really wasn’t anyone’s business except hers and Bellamy’s. Besides, it wasn’t like he was the _only_ motivating factor.

“Oh my god. This is exciting!” Harper bubbled.

“And long overdue,” Octavia added. “My brother’s been wantin’ to wife you up for a while now.”

Clarke smiled, so ready to actually _be_ his wife. She already felt like she was, but it was time to make it official. “So do you guys think you can save the date?” she asked hopefully. “Not this weekend, but the next.”

“Yeah, of course,” Raven said. But then she quickly added, “Oh, shoot, Murphy and I are going on vacation. But, uh . . . that’s alright. We’ll just fly out a day or two later.”

“Are you sure?” Clarke hated that they would have to alter their travel plans because of her.

“Yeah. It’s no big deal,” Raven assured her. “This is way more important. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, feeling so grateful to have such a good friend and maid of honor. “All of you,” she said. “It really means a lot.” As long as the people she loved and who loved her were there, then that was all that mattered. But still, she wanted it to be a cute, romantic ceremony, and she knew that, in order to achieve that so quickly, she was going to need some assistance. “So,” she said, “who’s gonna help me throw this wedding together?”

Judging by the looks and smiles on the other faces at the table, she had three very eager volunteers.

Since the venue was set for the beach, the biggest priority was definitely picking out what everyone was going to wear. All three of the girls cleared their afternoon schedules and accompanied Clarke to the nearest bridal shop, which was up in Polis. It was one of those places that looked like nothing on the outside but was really something inside. There were so many dresses to choose from that Clarke felt overwhelmed. She knew her mom would want her to go with a classic style, but her friends kept trying to persuade her to try something a little more modern. They had her try on boho dresses and even short dresses, but she wasn’t feeling anything until the store manager brought out a dress that wasn’t even on display yet. It was long and beautiful, a little more off-white than pure white. Depending on how the light hit it, it could either look a little champagne-colored or even pale pink. The bodice was covered in lace and sparkles and came down in a V cut, but it was still done in a tasteful way that wouldn’t show too much cleavage. It also wasn’t strapless, which Clarke preferred, and it was perfectly high-waisted, so it seemed like it would be pretty flattering. The bottom was loose and flowy and didn’t have a super long train, so it practically embodied the beachy look she was going for. Although it had several layers of fabric on the bottom, the outer later was sheer, so the whole thing was exactly what she was going for.

When she tried it on, it fit like a glove, almost like it was meant to be. Each and every one of her friends agreed that it was _the_ dress, the obvious choice. And it really was, so Clarke didn’t even feel the need to try any others on after that. She was able to help them find bridesmaids dresses they could all agree on instead. Even though they’d all gone into the store wanting different colors and styles, they managed to find these long light blueish/grey chiffon gowns that looked nice on all of them. They were comfortable and complimentary, and with no alterations needed, that meant they were perfect.

The shopping after that felt relatively easy in comparison. Just shoes and jewelry. Clarke felt like she had the prettiest piece of jewelry already on her ring finger, though, so everything else was just extra. Extra in the best way possible, though. She loved getting to do all this bride-to-be stuff, even if she had to do it fast.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since Clarke didn’t exactly know how to tell her mom that she was now going to beat her down the aisle, she decided simply to tell her over the phone. That way, if she was mad, she’d only have to hear it instead of seeing it.

“What do you mean this weekend?” her mom screeched after she dropped the bombshell on her.

“Not _this_ weekend. _Next_ weekend,” Clarke corrected.

“But that’s—that’s still so soon,” her mom sputtered. “What’s the rush?”

Well, at least she didn’t sound _mad_. More like . . . surprised. “We just wanna make things official,” Clarke explained. “You know, why wait?” Maybe a year-long engagement would work for her mom and Kane, but it just wasn’t going to work for her and Bellamy.

“But that doesn’t leave you any time to plan,” her mom said. “It takes longer than you might think. You have to book a venue months out these days.”

“The beach,” Clarke blurted.

“What?”

“We’re having it on the beach.” It was so simple, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“The . . . well, okay, that works,” her mom admitted. “But then there’s the dress . . .”

“I found one today. And I even got a discount on it.” She looked at her closet where it now hung, just waiting to be worn on the big day. She’d shown Bellamy, and he’d seemed to like it, but of course he wasn’t going to see her _wearing_ it before he was supposed to. “It’s really pretty,” she said. “I think it’s gonna look really nice in pictures, which I was thinking I could just get Murphy to do since he did a really good job on the pictures I had when I was pregnant and--” She stopped abruptly when she heard her mom sniffle. “What?”

There was a slight pause as her mom sniffled again. “Oh, nothing,” she said, in that sad voice that clearly meant she wasn’t just feeling nothing. “I didn’t get to go wedding dress shopping with you, that’s all.”

_Oh, crap_ , Clarke thought. Here she was just rambling about it when she hadn’t even considered that her mom might want to be a part of that moment. “I’m sorry.” In her head, she’d always just pictured it as something she and her friends would do together.

“I wanted to go with you,” her mom said tearfully. “You’re my daughter. My only daughter.”

Clarke cringed, putting herself in her mother’s shoes. If Avery was getting married someday and excluded her from that aspect of the pre-wedding, she’d feel hurt, too. “Mom, I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I just . . . I went with my friends and . . . I’m really sorry.” She knew that wasn’t much of a comfort, because it wasn’t like she’d ever go wedding dress shopping again. Unless she decided to renew her vows someday. Then she could at least bring her mom along for that. “It’s pretty, though,” she said. “You’ll like it.”

Her mom continued to cry lightly, which only made Clarke feel guiltier. “You thought I’d take over and be bossy, didn’t you?” she said. “That’s why you didn’t invite me along.”

“No, not at all,” she said, but truthfully . . . maybe that had been part of it. Maybe some part of her, some subconscious part, had purposefully not included her in the process. “Look, I kind of just wanted it to be a me-and-my-bridesmaids type of thing. But I’ll go shopping with you to pick out your dress.” Maybe that could help remove the sting, ease the hurt in some way.

“Okay,” her mom said. “I’d like that. And I am happy for you, Clarke, and I’m excited to see the dress and see you get married. I am. It’s just . . . all of a sudden, this is all just happening really fast.”

The bathroom door opened, and out came Bellamy in just his sweatpants, hair wet from the shower he’d just taken. He opened up one of the dresser drawers and started looking inside for a t-shirt.

“No, it’s not,” Clarke said, watching him. There was nothing fast about marrying the guy who’d been the one for her for a long, long time.

****

_Feeling like a zombie, Clarke traipsed down to the football field with the rest of the cheerleading squad. Her pom poms dangled in her hands, and the cloudy, overcast sky really matched her whole mood._

 _“Okay, girls, we’ve got our first game at the end of the week, and we’re performing at halftime,” Raven reminded them as they stepped out onto the track. “And we’re_ not _ready, so once we get out on that field, you’d better give it all you’ve got. Or I’ll murder you. Okay?”_

_A few of the girls mumbled some things in response, but no one questioned Raven’s authority. They set their water bottles down and stepped out onto that turf, ready to get in formation and run their routine. But Clarke just stood there, her feet feeling like they were glued in place as she looked towards that end zone. For two years, she’d watched Bellamy run the football in for a big score, or make these huge, often game-winning passes. She’d cheered him on and celebrated with him last year. And sometimes, after he’d scored, he’d looked in her direction and smiled at her. And of course she’d smiled back, and that wordless interaction alone had been enough to make her so damn happy._

_But it wouldn’t happen this year. There would be no smiles, no one special to cheer on. When she stood on that sideline, watching the game play out in front of her, Bellamy wouldn’t be a part of it. Yet she still had to be. It didn’t feel right._

_“Hey,” Raven said softly, approaching her with a look of concern on her face. “You okay?”_

No, _Clarke thought, tearing her eyes away from the field. But she forced a lie out instead of the truth. “Yeah.” Tightening her grip on the inner handlebar of her poms, she headed out onto the field, trying to remember where she was at in the formation, trying to remember what the first move of the dance even was. She hadn’t practiced at all._

_Since they were having problems getting everything in unison, Raven started them out with counts instead of music. She stood in front of them and yelled, “Five, six, seven, eight!” and Clarke was wrong even on the first move. She popped up when she was supposed to bend down. Then she totally screwed up her counts on the ripple, going with the back row instead of the front. She missed the first jump completely and collided with another girl on her way to the next formation._

_“Okay, stop!” Raven shouted. “You guys . . . what’s going on? This doesn’t look like a team that went and placed third at state. Pull it together.”_

I can’t, _Clarke thought, glancing out at the empty field again. There was_ so much _she just couldn’t pull together anymore._

_“Jess, you’ve gotta be sharper. We’ve been through this,” Raven critiqued. “Same with you, Emma. And Clarke . . . what’s the deal? You look like you barely even know the routine.”_

Because I don’t, _Clarke thought. It felt kind of weird getting called out, because she’d never been one of the girls Raven had to get after. In fact, she was one of the reliable ones. She was up in the front because it was expected that she would always know the dance and always be able to do it without messing up much. But right now . . . she was just a mess in general, wasn’t she?_

_“Okay, let’s go back to the first formation and run it from there,” Raven said. “We’ll slow it down.”_

_As all the other girls sulked back to their spots, Clarke just stood there, momentarily lost in thought. And suddenly, she felt like something clicked into place. Some realization, some decision that had been on the back burner of her mind ever since school had started back up. “Hey, Raven?” she said, stepping out of the formation to approach her friend. “Can I talk to you?”_

_If it had been anyone else, Raven probably would have told her to talk to her after practice. But she must have sensed that something was truly wrong, because she told the other girls, “Okay, run it without me,” and pulled Clarke aside. “What’s up?” she asked._

_Clarke helplessly flapped her poms against her sides and blurted out, “I can’t do this.”_

_“No, you can,” Raven assured her. “Don’t worry. I’ll come over and we’ll drill it tonight. You’ll get it.”_

_“No, I mean, I can’t . . .” She trailed off, unreasonably frustrated with her best friend for not just understanding. “I don’t wanna do this anymore,” she said, laying it out as succinctly as she could. “Cheerleading.”_

_Raven’s whole expression changed in an instant. “What? Why not?”_

_“I’m just over it.” Maybe that was only part of the reason, but it was the only part Raven or anyone else needed to know._

_“But you’re one of the best ones on the squad,” Raven said._

_“I’m average.”_

_“No, you’re good. You’re probably gonna be the captain next year.” Raven pouted. “Clarke, we need you. You’ve got a spot in all these formations. If you quit now, that screws everything up for Friday.”_

_She felt bad, especially since she wasn’t the type to quit anything she’d started. But her heart wasn’t in it anymore. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to screw anything up for you, but . . . I’m done,” she said, not willing to change her mind. “I’m quitting.”_

_Raven folded her arms over her chest, clearly a bit perturbed with her, and challenged her when she asked, “What’s this really about? Bellamy?”_

_“No,” she said. “No, it’s not, I swear.” But of course it was. Of course the thought of standing out there every Friday night and cheering on a bunch of guys who weren’t him just sounded awful. And of course she didn’t want the attention that automatically came with being a cheerleader in a small school. After everything that had happened, she didn’t need eyes on her. “It’s just me,” she said, hating that she had to let her best friend down like this. “I don’t_ feel _like a cheerleader anymore.” She couldn’t even muster up a smile, let alone enough spirit to wear the uniform. Somewhere in that school was another girl, an alternate who would gladly take her spot on the team. “I’m really sorry,” she said again, handing Raven her poms. There wasn’t really anything else she could say, so she left it at that and walked away from the field that had once been a fun, lively place for her to be._

****

Clarke felt entranced by Bellamy, totally fixated on his back and shoulders as he found the shirt he wanted and put it on. God, he was a good-looking guy. Those looks matched with that personality . . . damn, she felt like a lucky girl.

“Is she pissed?” he asked quietly, pointing at her phone.

She covered it up while her mother continued talking and answered, “No. She’s just . . . being a mom.”

He sauntered towards her, a slightly mischievous look in his eyes, and asked, “Need a distraction?”

Maybe she didn’t _need_ one, but she definitely _wanted_ one, so she didn’t object when his arms wound around her waist, pulling her close to him. She wanted to put her arms around his neck, but she still was on the phone, and her mom didn’t sound like she was even close to done talking.

“I’ll distract you,” he said with a grin, lowering his mouth to latch onto the side of her neck. Each kiss made a noise, and Clarke wondered if her mom would be able to hear.

“Well, you know what, honey?” her mom said, even though she was just having a one-way conversation at this point. “I’m happy for you. I really am. And if this is how you wanna go about planning your wedding day, then . . . I’m just gonna support you. And I’ll help you out however I can. Sound good?”

When Bellamy’s tongue swirled over her neck, Clarke couldn’t contain a moan. “Mmm, yeah,” she said. When she remembered she was still on the phone, she cleared her throat and said, “Yes. Yes, that sounds great.” Bellamy didn’t let up with the kissing, though, and in fact, his hands became more daring, too, as they slid down to cup her ass. She knew she had to end the call quickly, so she told a little white lie when she said, “Um, Mom, I have to let you go now. Avery needs me. But we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” her mom said. “Give her a kiss for me.”

“Will do. Bye.” She ended the call quickly and tossed her phone on the bed. And then she got right to work kissing her fiancé.

“Look at you,” he murmured against her lips. “Usin’ the baby as an excuse to get off the phone.”

“I just wanna focus,” she said.

“On what?”

“You.” She trailed one hand down to his sweatpants, undoing the drawstring. “Certain parts of you.”

Bellamy gave her one more kiss, then moved his head so that his bearded cheek was rubbing against the side of her face. “You should let me go down on you,” he spoke quietly into her ear.

“No, not yet,” she said, still a little too insecure to let him get up close like that. “Sorry.”

He must have been disappointed, but he didn’t let it show. “No, that’s okay.”

“You could fuck me, though,” she told him.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She tugged upward on his shirt, wishing he hadn’t even bothered to put it on. “Every one of my bridesmaids got laid this morning. I was jealous.”

“ _Every_ one of them?” he asked.

“Yep. Even Octavia.”

He made a face. “Disgusting.”

Laughing, she pulled his shirt up over his head and dropped it onto the floor. “Do you think she heard us going at it back in the day?” she asked as they stumbled towards the bed.

“Oh, yeah, no doubt,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. We got loud.” He pulled back the covers and lay down with her, on top of her like a big, warm blanket. “Everyone heard, Clarke. Octavia. The neighbors. That half-deaf guy who lives down the street.”

“Oh, god.” That didn’t bode well for the future then, considering the fact that their daughter’s room was just across the hall. “What’re we gonna do when Avery’s older and we have to be quiet for her?” she wondered.

“I don’t even know,” he said. “Maybe we should just be loud now while we still can.” He kissed her again, and she _really_ liked that idea. Right now, if she wanted to scream out his name and some accompanying profanities, she could. And if he fucked her hard or long enough, she definitely would.

Just as they’d started to make out again, though, the worst possible interruption happened. The doorbell. The damn doorbell, which had never sounded more annoying than it did in that moment, rang out, and Bellamy groaned, “Oh . . . you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“Who is that?” Clarke groaned in complaint. Why did someone have to stop by right in the middle of sexy time?

“I don’t know,” he said, climbing off the bed. “You stay here. I’ll go check.”

She sighed heavily, disappointed that, although the moment wasn’t ruined by any means, it was definitely disrupted. When he walked out of the room, she decided she’d get undressed and lube herself up, just to make less work for him when he returned.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy had half a mind to kill whoever was on the other side of that door. How often did he and Clarke actually have the chance to screw around with each other anymore? Hardly ever. They were either too tired or too busy, so sex was now a precious commodity in their lives.

He just became even more pissed when he opened up the door and saw Finn Collins standing on the other side. As if he had any right to be there. “What the hell do you want?” Bellamy spat out at him. Fuck, why hadn’t he just kept that door closed, pretended no one was home?

“Nice to see you, too, Bellamy,” Finn said. “Listen, I just wanted to come congratulate you on your engagement. That’s great news.”

Bellamy wasn’t about to fall for that, though, so he grumbled, “Cut the crap. Why are you really here?”

“I really did wanna congratulate you,” Finn insisted.

“No, you didn’t.” That was a lie, and they both knew it.

Sighing, Finn motioned over his shoulder and asked, “You wanna step outside?”

Did he? No. In fact, all he wanted to do was go back upstairs and crawl back into bed with the girl who was going to be his wife. But he felt compelled to find out the real reason why Finn had decided to stop by, so he called up to Clarke and said, “Hey, babe, I’ll be back up in a minute, alright? Miller’s here.” He winced inwardly at the lie, but if he told her who’d really rung that doorbell, she would have come downstairs, too.

“Okay!” she called back. “I’ll be ready for you!”

He sort of loved the fact that it was so obvious they’d been ready to fool around. He didn’t even have a shirt on, and he hoped Finn was jealous. Heading outside with him, he closed the door, hoping this wouldn’t take too long.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Finn said. “I just thought you and I should talk about things. Man to man.”

Bellamy had to laugh at that, because in what alternate reality did Finn live where he thought he was a man? A coward, for sure, but not a man. “Talk on,” he said, hoping every part of this conversation was as laughable as that.

Unfortunately, he quickly realized that there would be nothing else to laugh about when Finn started in with, “Well, Clarke told me you wanna adopt Avery.”

His jaw clenched, and he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at this complete and utter loser who had no right to even say that little girl’s name.

“And I respect that,” Finn claimed. “Really, I do. But it kinda pisses me off that you guys just made the decision without me.”

_Son of a bitch_ , Bellamy thought, resisting the urge to just deck the guy. Instead, he decided to rub some salt in the wound by pointing out, “Yeah, well, we’re raising the baby without you, so I think that kind of gives us the right.”

“But I’m her biological father,” Finn said. “I have rights, too.”

“Do you?” Bellamy challenged, hoping to make him doubt himself. “You gave those up when you decided to let Clarke do this alone.”

Finn wasn’t as easily as deterred as he’d hoped, though. “No, I didn’t,” he said. “Look, I don’t want this to cause some huge problem for all of us. I’m just letting you know . . . a little respect in return would be nice.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, thinking, _No way_. He wasn’t going to respect Finn Collins, not now, not ever.

“I feel like I haven’t gotten that so far,” Finn said, “and to be honest, I’m really not sure how I feel about the way this is all playing out.”

Even though Bellamy didn’t want to show nerves or weakness of any sort, he couldn’t help but feel freaked out inside, his mind automatically racing with so many of his worst fears. “What’re you saying?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

Finn was vague when he replied, “I’m just saying I don’t like it.” But that was still enough to make Bellamy feel completely on edge. Because _that_ was the whole reason Finn had come by, just to let him know that. Not Clarke, but him.

Bellamy didn’t have a comeback, not that anything he said could have the same impact anyway. Finn was able to leave, probably feeling proud of himself for coming over and voicing his opinion, but that meant Bellamy just had to stand there feeling worried, wondering what he’d meant even after he was gone. He didn’t like the way this was playing out, so . . . what, was he just going to stay pissed? Or was he actually gonna try to _do_ something about it? Finn said he didn’t want it to cause problems, but what if that was a lie? What if that was exactly what he wanted?


	79. Chapter 79

_Chapter 79_

It didn’t matter that Bellamy had work to do. Not after last night. He felt like the better use of his time was getting online and finding out as much information as he could about adoption procedures and rules and regulations and all that crap. He could diagram football plays in his sleep, and Miller was plenty capable of running practice himself. Bellamy opted to stay in his office and do a deep dive online, one that, after his encounter with Finn, felt very necessary.

Anytime he found a site that looked even remotely helpful, he didn’t hesitate to print it out. Unfortunately, the only place he could get shit to print was in the main office, so he kept having to make multiple treks over there to pick up what he needed. Once in a while, he ended up printing something twice by mistake, so he ended up with a whole mess of papers. While he stood there trying to sort out what was what and get it organized in some possible way, Principal Sydney came out of her office to rummage around the supply cabinets.

“You’re printing out a lot today,” she remarked. “What do you all have there?”

He wasn’t about to tell her what was going on—and hell, he probably wasn’t supposed to be using the school’s ink and paper for personal use anyway—so he lied and answered, “Oh, you know, just football stuff.” He shoved all the papers in a manila envelope he’d swiped out of the very same supply cabinet she was now looking through, and said, “Have a good weekend,” as he left.

“You, too,” she said.

_I’ll try to_ , he thought. But undoubtedly, Finn had put a damper on it.

When he got home, the house was strangely quiet. So either Clarke and Avery were both napping, or they’d gone somewhere.

“Clarke?” he called out. No response. “Honey, you home?” He shut the door, starting to feel an unreasonable panic as he looked around the empty living room and kitchen. And he _knew_ it was unreasonable, because it wasn’t like she _had_ to be there. It was a nice day, and she’d probably just taken Avery out to the park. It was walking distance, which would explain why her car was still there. But still, after last night, he just felt this urge to have them there, so he once again said, “Clarke?” as he headed upstairs. He checked the nursery first, finding it to be empty. Same with their bedroom.

His breathing started to come faster, and his gut knotted up with worry. He knew nothing was wrong or out of the ordinary, but for some reason, all he could picture in his mind was his fiancée and his daughter out and about, and Finn approaching them, wanting to spend time with them. Clarke wouldn’t want that, of course, but maybe she’d feel obligated.

A wave of relief came over him when he heard the front door open. He hustled downstairs just in time to see Clarke struggling to maneuver Avery’s very large stroller into the house.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “You’re home early. I thought you were going out with the guys.”

“No, I’d rather be with you,” he said, helping her with the stroller. “Both of you.”

“Aww, so sweet,” she said, shutting the door. She kicked off her shoes while he lifted Avery out of her stroller, then gave him a curious look and asked, “You okay? You look so tired.”

“I am,” he said, holding his baby girl up against his shoulder. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

She bit her bottom lip, nodding slowly. “Last night,” she echoed. “Can we talk about last night?”

He frowned and sat down on the couch. “What do you mean?” He’d purposefully kept the details of last night hidden from her, so that she wouldn’t worry the same way he was.

“Well, we . . .” She trailed off, wringing her hands together, then mumbled, “Never mind.”

“No, what?” Avery started to make a few noises, but he whispered, “Shh,” because he needed to know what was on her mom’s mind.

“It’s just . . .” Once again, she was unable to complete her sentence. She came and sat down beside him, looking down at her lap as if she were . . . ashamed or embarrassed. She only looked up at him to ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” He had no idea what she was even talking about. “Of course not.”

“But you didn’t . . .” Her voice got really quiet when she finally started to elaborate. “I mean, it seemed like it was really good for me and not so good for you.”

His confusion started to clear up when she said that, because he knew now what she was talking about. The sex. The sex that they’d been so excited to have and that would have been completely normal if there hadn’t been an unexpected visitor at their door beforehand. “No, it was great,” he assured her. And it wasn’t like he was lying. Anytime he got to be with Clarke in _that_ way, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

“But you didn’t . . . you didn’t even get off on it, Bellamy,” she protested. “God, I sound so stupid. I just can’t remember us _ever_ having sex and you not cumming. That’s all.”

Yeah, it was true. He’d pulled out without actually getting all the way there, kissed her a little more, and then rolled over to try to go to sleep. “Well, you came,” he pointed out. That was the most important thing.

“Yeah, I know. But you still didn’t,” she said. Her arms wrapped around her mid-section self-consciously, and she said, “Look, I know I’m probably still not looking my most desirable right now . . .”

“No, Clarke, don’t . . . please don’t think that.” God-dammit, he felt horrible for adding to her insecurities like that. He’d just had too much on his mind last night. “You’re so beautiful, okay? I love you so much.”

“Then what happened?” she asked. “Last night wasn’t normal, and I tried to brush it off like it was no big deal, but it’s been on my mind all day.”

Shit, he didn’t want to have to tell her. He didn’t want what Finn had said weighing on her mind as heavily as it was weighing on his. “I was just feeling stressed,” he said, trying to be vague.

“About what?”

_About your ex_ , he thought bitterly. _About Avery’s_ biological _father._

“Bellamy, just talk to me,” she said, scooting closer, putting her hand on his leg. “You weren’t the same after Miller came by. What happened?”

He winced, wishing he hadn’t lied to her. That was shady, not the kind of thing a good soon-to-be husband did.

His silence must have said it all, because the realization set in for her, and she said, “It wasn’t Miller, was it?”

It would have been nice if it had been. Miller or Murphy, or hell, even one of his annoying exes like Bree. But of course it’d had to be the one person he dreaded seeing the most. “No,” he admitted, assuming she could figure it out for herself from there.

She must have already known, because very quickly, she guessed, “Finn?”

He nodded solemnly.

“God,” she groaned. “Why was he here?”

“To congratulate us.” He snorted, shaking his head angrily.

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing,” he muttered. But there was a bulging envelope on the bed upstairs just in case it was something, an envelope full of all the information he’d printed out today. He had some serious reading to do. “He was talking about Avery, about how I wanna adopt Avery,” he revealed to her. “Surprise, surprise, he doesn’t like it. Or he doesn’t like that we didn’t include him in the decision or something. To be honest, I’ve been tryin’ not to think about it.” He looked down at the little girl in his arms, wishing she could just _be_ his since she already felt like his. Why couldn’t it be that simple?

“And how’s that going for you?” she asked him.

“Not so good,” he admitted. “That’s why I wasn’t completely . . . with you last night. I couldn’t get it off my mind.” Last night had been a first for him, too. The only other times he hadn’t cum during sex had been when he wasn’t really all that into it with the girl. Never because of anxiety.

“Why’d you lie to me, though?” she asked him, sounding a bit hurt. “You could’ve told me Finn was here. We could’ve talked to him together.”

“You really think that would’ve done any good?”

“I don’t know. But we’re a team, Bellamy,” she reminded him. “We’re in this together.”

_Together_ , he thought, glancing down at the ring on her left hand, the one that signified just how together they’d promised to be. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry I lied. I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“But _you’re_ worried,” she said, looking at him sadly.

“Yeah.” He was. There was no point in trying to hide it. He was worried as hell that something was going to go wrong, that this whole plan to adopt Avery was going to hit a major snag in the form of a guy who’d never wanted her to be born in the first place.

Clarke tucked her legs up underneath herself and turned to face him, moving in close enough to rest her hands and head on his shoulder. “You know what I think?” she said. “I think it’s all gonna be okay. Finn didn’t wanna be a dad nine months ago; he doesn’t wanna be one now. He just . . . wants attention.”

He wasn’t sure whether she truly believed that or was just trying to be optimistic for his sake. He appreciated it, but it wasn’t enough to make him stop worrying. “We can’t just put our heads in the sand and act like he’s not a problem, Clarke,” he said.

“But he’s not,” she insisted. “He didn’t say he was gonna fight for custody, did he?”

“No.” At least he hadn’t said that. But the most dangerously paranoid part of him felt like there had been a lot left unsaid, a lot that Finn still, at some point, might decide to say.

“So I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” Clarke reiterated. “He knows you’re her father. He’s just jealous.”

Bellamy sighed, wishing he could be jealous and be away from them at the same time. Just completely out of their lives. They didn’t need him or want him around. Things were good when it was just the three of them, because that was the way it was meant to be. “I just wish he wasn’t even in the picture,” he said, letting himself be honest with her now in a way he hadn’t last night. He still didn’t feel great about any of this, but at the very least, opening up to her and not keeping it a secret did manage to make him feel better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke stayed awake after Bellamy fell asleep that night. Because he fell asleep with Avery on his chest, and Clarke felt like the image was just too perfect not to capture on paper. So she turned the bedside lamp on dim, took out her sketchbook, and began drawing, trying to get every little detail just right, trying to make her drawing look as precious as the real life sight was.

Avery was so small that one of Bellamy’s hands covered her whole back. He looked like a gentle giant holding her. He’d been holding her almost all night, ever since he’d gotten home. And she knew why. She knew that everything she’d said to try to put his mind at ease hadn’t been completely successful. He was still worried, and he would continue to be worried until it was all official, until Avery was legally his daughter. But in every other way, the ways that mattered the most, she already was. Right now, she was lying asleep on the chest of someone who loved her more than anything in the world, rising up with every breath he inhaled, coming back down with every exhale. She looked so sweet and so content, and why wouldn’t she? She was with her dad.

When Clarke finished her sketch, she scrawled a quick title at the top: _Fatherhood_. That was the picture right there, and Finn wasn’t in it. Then she quietly tore it out of her sketchbook and set it down next to Bellamy so that he would see it whenever he woke up. Putting her book away and turning off the light, she lay down next to him and their daughter to fall asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a nice, low-key weekend, Bellamy had hoped to feel energized when he got back to work. But a rainy day meant they couldn’t practice because they’d tear up the field, so the guys just came in to lift weights instead. He and Miller did some lifting while they were supervising, but that got over with soon enough, and then it was back to the office. He’d had no idea how much of coaching involved sitting behind a desk, reaching out to people to schedule things and order stuff. Plus, there was a lot of reading. When Miller came back from the printer with a thick packet of papers and plopped it down in front of him, he was almost afraid to ask what it was. Turned out he didn’t have to, because Miller told him, “The state athletics association came out with its revamped player safety handbook. I made you a copy.”

“Fantastic,” he muttered, thumbing through it. Pages upon pages, small font . . . great.

“Looks like we’ve got some reading to do,” Miller said.

“Yep.” And reading was such a hell of an easy thing for him, wasn’t it? Damn, getting through that packet would take him hours. Even just looking at the table of contents made his head hurt. The letters looked like they were moving around on the page, rearranging, and he couldn’t keep them straight. Some appeared backwards to him at first, and he had to blink and really focus on the word to even read it correctly.

“You alright?” Miller asked, kicking his feet up atop his own desk.

“Yeah,” Bellamy said, rubbing his forehead. “Just got a lot goin’ on.” Feeling stressed definitely added to the normal difficulties of dyslexia. And lately, his stress had been pretty damn consistent.

****

_Try as he might to look like he belonged in his psychology class, Bellamy couldn’t help but feel like he stuck out like a sore thumb. Sure, it was just an intro level course, so there were probably a lot of people taking it who didn’t really care about it much; but he couldn’t help but think that they were all probably better students than he was, than he’d ever been. Without football, UCF wouldn’t have even accepted him. And that was always hanging in the back of his mind._

_“Make no mistake about it,” the professor, an old guy who seemingly refused to smile, said, “I run a busy class, and I expect you to keep up. If you fall behind, don’t email me or come to my office. Check the syllabus and get caught up. It’s that simple.”_

_Bellamy reached down into his backpack, taking out a wrinkled piece of paper that he hoped was the syllabus, but it ended up just being a flyer advertising a party on Friday. “What syllabus?” he asked the girl next to him._

_“The one he emailed us,” she replied._

_There’d been an email? When? Had he gotten that? He must have looked freaked out, because she opened up her binder, took hers out, and handed it to him. “Here,” she said. “I accidentally printed two.”_

_“Thanks.” He looked it over, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Weren’t intro classes supposed to be easy? This looked like a lot of homework, way more than he had time for with all the practices and games they had._

_“Your assignment is to read the first five chapters by our next class,” the professor told them. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”_

Easy for you to say, _Bellamy thought, opening up his textbook to a random page. Page ninety-eight. And that was still just chapter four._

_“You’re free to go,” the professor said, motioning towards the door. Some people stood up and bolted. But Bellamy just sat there, feeling freaked out, because there was no telling how long it would take him to read five chapters. It was gonna take even the people without a reading disability a long time. How the hell was he supposed to keep up with them?_

_“You look overwhelmed,” the girl beside him remarked as she packed up her backpack._

_“Yeah,” he admitted. “I wasn’t expecting this much homework.” High school had been child’s play compared to this._

_“Well, at least it’s just reading,” she said._

_“Yeah, but I suck at that.” He closed his book and shoved it into his bag, sighing as he relented to a sleepless night. They had an afternoon practice that would probably extend into the early evening, and by the time he grabbed some dinner, it’d be at least 8:00 before he had time to start on any homework at all. And that was assuming he managed to find the motivation. That’d always been hard for him._

_“Just skim it then,” the girl suggested, “take notes on the important parts.”_

_“I suck at that, too,” he informed her._

_“Really?”_

_“Yeah. My handwriting’s crap. I can’t read what I write half the time. And I can’t skim very well, ‘cause . . .” He wasn’t about to tell a total stranger about his problem, so instead he just muttered, “I’m just not very good at it.”_

_She stood up, swinging her backpack over her shoulders, and suggested, “Well, find a quiet space then. Get rid of all the distractions and just focus.”_

_“I’ll try.” Luckily, since his roommate never talked to him, he didn’t have to worry about any distractions there. “Thanks again for the syllabus,” he told her as he headed out. Maybe it’d be worth it to try to sit by her again next time. She definitely seemed to have a better handle on the whole academic thing than he did._

_As he was walking down the hallway, he heard a “Hey!” come from behind him. When he turned around, it was that same girl. She came towards him, light brown curls bouncing, a knowing smile on her face. “You’re a freshman, right?” she guessed._

_“Is it that obvious?” He hated being on the bottom of the totem pole again._

_“Kind of,” she said. “Plus, I think I heard about you. Football phenom, am I right?”_

Phenom? _He was good, no doubt, but he didn’t want to brag. “Well, I’m the backup quarterback,” he said. It wasn’t like he was going to be a game-changer just yet._

_“Yeah, I saw you on the news,” she said. “You know, they have special services at the tutoring center just for student athletes.”_

_That piqued his interest. “They do?”_

_“Yeah. I volunteer there.”_

_He thought back to all his tutoring sessions with Monty Green. As torturous as they’d been some days and as often as he hadn’t actually wanted to sit through them, they’d been beneficial. Without Monty, he probably wouldn’t have passed half his classes._

_“My name’s Gina, by the way,” she said, extending her hand._

_He shook it and introduced himself to her. “Bellamy.”_

_“Nice to meet you,” she said, letting her hand linger in his. When she pulled it away, she stuffed both hands in her back pockets, causing her chest to stand out a little more. Some girls stood like that when they were trying to flirt, but Gina was all business when she asked, “So do you think you might want some help sometime? I’m more than willing.”_

_“Well, I had a tutor in high school, so . . . maybe,” he said. The semester had just started. It was too early to tell whether or not he was going to need the help just yet. “But I’m trying to work a lot harder now than I did back then. So I think I can try to do it on my own.”_

_“Sure,” she said. “Just remember, there’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”_

_“Says someone who’s probably never had to ask for help before,” he said, sensing that she was one of those Raven Reyes types who just breezed through school._

_“Not true,” she said. “I suck at speech, but I had to take a communications class my freshman year. That was like hell for me, but my roommate helped me through it.”_

_“Oh, I’m actually good at speeches,” he said. “Speeches and football.”_

_“I’m sure that’s not all you’re good at,” she said, smiling._

Whoa, _he thought. Was that a come-on? Was she into him? Were girls like her into freshmen? Or was it different than high school? Did his looks and his athleticism not actually matter as much here? Maybe he was just being full of himself._

_“Anyway . . . stop by the tutoring center anytime you start feeling overwhelmed,” she said. “I’d be happy to work with you.”_

_He nodded and just smiled back at her, and she walked past him and continued on her way. Probably had another class to get to, which was probably for the best. It definitely felt like she’d been flirting with him at least a little bit, and normally he would have been okay with that. Used to it, even. Hell, he would have welcomed it. Gina seemed nice and everything, but he just wasn’t in the mood to flirt back with her. Because she wasn’t Clarke._

****

Bellamy knew there was no way he was going to get any reading done, so he was grateful when Clarke’s familiar voice rang out. “Knock, knock,” she said, tapping on the doorframe as she poked her head inside his office.

“Hey,” he said, glad to see that she had Avery with her. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Bringing you lunch,” she said, setting a Wendy’s sack down in front of him. She must’ve gone through the drive-through for that, because as far as he knew, they still weren’t allowed to go in there after their little . . . escapade.

“You know me so well,” he said, opening up the sack to take out the burger and fries. “I was gettin’ hungry.”

“Figured,” she said. “Hey, Miller. Sorry I didn’t bring you anything.”

“That’s alright,” he said.

Clarke cleared a little bit of a space and set Avery’s carrier down on his desk. “You left before I even woke up this morning,” she said.

“Yeah, I wanted to get an early start on some stuff.” He’d woken up without any alarms and shut all of them off so she could sleep a little longer.

“Did you see my drawing?” she asked.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s in my desk,” he said, pulling open the drawer. “See? I’m gonna frame it and put it up on the wall in here.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you like it.” She swiped a couple of his fries, popped them into her mouth, then glanced over at Miller, who was already several pages into the player safety manual. “Hey, Miller?” she said. “Do you think we could have a minute?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, getting to his feet. “Sex or talking? I need to know if I should bring air freshener with me when I come back in.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and said, “Just talking. Come on, like we’re gonna do it with Avery here.”

Yeah, that would have been kind of weird. But Bellamy would have been down for it if they’d decided to turn her carrier to face the other way. Hell, it wouldn’t have been the first time they’d fucked in that school.

When Miller left, Clarke grabbed the chair from his desk and rolled it towards him. “Hey, so listen, I just wanted to let you know that I talked to Kane today,” she told him. “About the Finn stuff.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Just ‘cause he’s a smart guy, and he’s got some lawyer friends, so I figured he could offer some good advice.”

Bellamy wasn’t sure how he felt about other people in their family knowing what was going on, but if anyone knew anything, he was glad it was Kane. That guy just always seemed so calm and in control, so hopefully he’d know what to do. “What’d he say?” Bellamy asked, eager to find out if she’d gotten any good info.

“Well, he doesn’t think we need to lawyer up just yet,” she replied. “In fact, he thinks it’s in our best interest not to lawyer up at all. If we can just handle everything with Finn ourselves, then we won’t have anything to stress about.”

He held his burger in his hand, suddenly not very hungry, because now his stomach was tightening up with the feeling of stress again. “But what if Finn gets a lawyer?” he pondered.

“Then we would, too,” she said. “Kane knows someone, a family law guy. But we don’t want it to come to that. And it probably won’t, because, let’s be honest, Finn can’t afford a lawyer. And definitely not a good one. So for right now, we just have to suck it up and keep the lines of communication open with him. It sounds like that’s all he really wants.”

_Or he wants Avery_ , he thought forlornly. That was still the worst fear plaguing him. Still, though, he was willing to follow her lead on this, so he said, “Okay,” and tried to push his fears down inside.

“And in the meantime,” she said, stealing a few more French fries, “you and I need to focus on planning our wedding.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot left to do.” They had less than a week left now, and he still didn’t even have a nice enough suit for the big day.

“There is,” she agreed. “Like figuring out who’s gonna marry us, for starters.”

“That’s a big one.”

“And ordering the cake.”

“Ooh, that’s a big one to me.” He supposed he could always ask his mom to make something, but he didn’t want to hassle her.

“And do you realize we still have to pick out our rings?”

“Yeah.” The more she listed off, the more behind he felt. “This feels like every assignment I ever did in high school. Just left until the last minute.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a to-do list,” she assured him. “But we _have_ to fill out our marriage license after you get off work, because otherwise we won’t actually be married after our wedding.”

“Can’t have that,” he said.

“Nope,” she agreed. “I got us an appointment and everything up at city hall to get it done.”

“You’re on top of things,” he said, both grateful and impressed.

She grinned, moving out of Miller’s chair and into his. “I like being on top,” she joked, crawling up onto his lap.

He set his food aside, his hands much more interested in grabbing at her hips instead. “See, this is why I’m marrying you,” he said, eliciting a laugh as she brought her mouth down on top of his.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It ended up being a very good thing that they went and filled out the marriage license when they did, because in Maryland, there was a waiting period of two days until after it was issued to be able to actually tie the knot. Which was bullshit, but whatever. They’d timed it right with a couple days left to spare.

The actual form they filled out was pretty standard, didn’t feel all that much different than something a doctor’s office would ask a person to fill out. Just the regular information, nothing special. Except it _felt_ special to Bellamy, so special that he just had to sit there and watch his fiancée write in every word. It would be one of the last times she wrote _Clarke Griffin_ on anything, because she’d made it very clear that she wanted to take his last name.

The next day involved ring shopping, which also felt surreal. Bellamy had never been the type to wear rings of any kind, but this was one ring he couldn’t wait to wear. Every single day. For the rest of his life. Just a simple silver band, but it was going to signify so much. Finding one big enough for his huge fingers was a bit of a hassle, of course, but he must not have been the only guy with that problem, because the jewelry store had a couple of good options for him to choose one. Clarke found one that matched perfectly with her engagement ring—it was a lot more sparkly than his plain, masculine band—but it was a bit too big for her small fingers. The store owner said they could get it rushed off for resizing and have it ready to go the day before their wedding. Clarke wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to combine it with her engagement ring or switch her engagement ring to the other hand after they got married, so for now, she opted to leave them separate.

Even though everything was pretty last minute, it was also fun as hell. They got to do a cake tasting at the local bakery, which Bellamy thoroughly enjoyed. Having such a close deadline actually made things easier, because they didn’t have time to second guess any of their decisions. When they found something they wanted, they just went for it, happy to be able to cross one more thing off of their ever-dwindling to-do list.

One thing that wasn’t so easy to cross off was a special project he had going with Roan, though, one that Clarke didn’t know about. As nice as a beach wedding was going to be, he didn’t want to just have Clarke walk down the aisle to a whole lot of empty sand. He wanted an actual wedding arch, and he wanted to make it himself. Sort of as a gift to his bride. Of course, his construction abilities were a little rusty—and perhaps had never been the greatest to begin with—so he knew he had to enlist Roan’s assistance. Luckily, Roan had a shed in his backyard that they were pretty much able to use as a workshop, and he didn’t mind helping. It took a couple of late afternoons to put it all together, but by the time it was done, it looked good, like something professionally made. Roan had shown him how to do a few new sanding and staining techniques to get brand new wood looking like driftwood, so the arch would fit the beachy theme.

The hardest part, it seemed, was figuring out who was actually going to marry them. Neither he nor Clarke had gone to church in years—actually, he’d never gone in his life—so they didn’t have a pastor. Abby said she knew someone, a friend, but Clarke was reluctant to have any of her mom’s friends initiate the ceremony, because she said all she could picture was Callie. Even if this person was nothing like Callie, she didn’t want to chance it. It seemed like they might have to, though, until Murphy, of all people, suggested someone to Bellamy while they were out at Eligius having a drink two nights before the wedding.

At first, after he said the name, Bellamy wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“No, I’m dead serious,” Murphy insisted. “Monty can do it. He got ordained online a couple years ago just for the hell of it. Let him marry you.”

To be honest, Bellamy hadn’t entirely ruled out the possibility of asking one of their friends to get ordained online, so if Monty had already done that . . . “Would he even know what he’s doing, though?” he wondered.

Murphy shrugged. “He’s Monty. He’ll figure it out.”

That was true. Monty was a smart guy, and he was well-spoken, too. If any of their friends were up to the task, it’d be him. “That actually might work,” he said, wondering if Clarke would go for it. “‘cause I had to cut him as a groomsman to let Jasper to do it. But if he’s the one marrying us . . .”

“There you go. Problem solved,” Murphy said. “So it’s me, Miller, and Jasper as groomsmen, right?”

“Yeah.” He could have chosen more, someone like Roan and _maybe_ even Lincoln if he’d felt generous, but he’d wanted the same amount of groomsmen as Clarke had bridesmaids.

“And Miller’s your best man?”

“Yep.” It’d been a tough choice between him and Murphy, to be honest. “Sorry, I’ve known him longer.”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Murphy said. “As long as you let me throw you a bachelor party tomorrow.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot upward, because with the time crunch they were under, he hadn’t really given much thought to that. But at this point, everything was planned, ready to go. There wasn’t anything he and Clarke _had_ to do tomorrow night to make sure they were ready. Roan was bringing the arch in a big U-Haul the day of the ceremony, so . . . his Friday night was wide open.

When he got home that night, he ran both ideas by Clarke. She was all in on the idea of Monty being the one to marry them and called him up right away. He agreed to it, so that was simple enough. But Bellamy was hesitant to bring up the bachelor party to her, because he didn’t want her to think he was going to go out and get hammered or anything. Not the night before his wedding. He waited until they were getting ready to crawl into bed and just casually slipped it into the conversation. It definitely caught her attention, though, because she stopped pulling the covers back and gave him a suspicious look. “A bachelor party, huh?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t going to be the wildest night of his life or anything, but it was still tradition. “I hadn’t even really thought about that until he brought it up.”

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically.

“No, I swear. ‘cause I’m not a bachelor, you see?” He moved in close to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’m already completely committed to you. My mind doesn’t even go there.”

“But you still wanna have a bachelor party,” she said.

“Well, if it’s okay with you.” He felt like he was going to be a good husband, because here he was already asking for his future wife’s approval.

“You don’t need my permission,” she said, putting her hands on his arms. “Have your party. Actually, I think the girls wanna throw me one, too.”

“Oh, really?” A _bachelorette_ party? He wasn’t sure whether to picture them sitting around the living room playing games like they had for her baby shower or going out and having a crazy time.

“Yeah. Raven’s getting pretty good at throwing together parties for me,” she said.

“Hmm. Something tells me it won’t be as tame as the gender reveal one, though.”

She slid her hands up around his neck and said, “There _might_ be a couple strippers. Apparently Harper knows some people who . . . went that route with their dancing.”

He nodded slowly, trying to be cool with that. “Okay. Male strippers or female ones?”

“Hopefully both,” she said, smirking. He must have looked a bit worried or jealous or something, because she quickly assured him, “Don’t worry, I’m sure none of them even compare to you.”

“Alright,” he relented, knowing he had nothing to be jealous of. Besides, fair was fair. “And if Murphy drags me to a strip club, I’ll just look. I won’t touch,” he promised. “‘cause I only wanna touch you.” He moved his hands down over the curve of her ass to give it a good squeeze. “And kiss you,” he added, bending his head to press a hot kiss against the side of her neck. “And fuck you. I wanna fuck you, Clarke.” He fell onto the bed with her, loving the way she laughed at him and immediately coiled her legs around his waist. She wanted to do it, right? He wasn’t misreading the signs. And this time, he didn’t feel so stressed out that he wouldn’t be able to properly concentrate. No, this time, they were both gonna get off on it.


	80. Chapter 80

_Chapter 80_

Since it was her bachelorette party, the one and only one she would ever have, Clarke decided to dress up and try to be a little stylish. No mom clothes for a night out at Sanctum. No way. She found a glittery red skirt in the back of her closet, one she’d never worn, and was delighted when she actually fit into it. Red wasn’t her usual color, but it was high-waisted and looked so good combined with a loose white tank top that she just went with it, adding some jewelry and wearable heels that she’d be able to dance in. Because there was definitely going to be a lot of dancing. Raven loved it, Harper was a freaking dance major, and Octavia probably didn’t have any qualms about showing off her moves. Plus, Lexa had returned from her summer with Costia for the weekend, and Lexa, though a bit stiff and wooden on the dance floor, liked _being_ out on the dance floor because she liked watching other girls move.

It ended up being a limo that pulled up outside Clarke’s house to pick her up. She hadn’t expected that, nor did she know how Raven was paying for it—hopefully she’d asked Clarke’s parents or just used Murphy’s YouTube money. Inside the limo, all her friends, Aurora, and her mom were waiting. They all had on matching t-shirts that said _Bride Tribe_ , and after her friends complimented her outfit and told her how hot she looked, they made her put on a cheap little veil so that everyone at Sanctum knew she was the bachelorette they were celebrating tonight.

The veil was nice. Even though it got stuck in Clarke’s hair a couple of times, once they were at the club and out on the dance floor, it basically fended off any unwanted male attention. No one bothered to come hit on her because it was obvious she was taken. So that meant she was just able to let loose and have a good time with her friends. She danced more than she’d danced in a long time, feeling all young and carefree again.

Since it was a Friday night, though, the club was hot and crowded, and Clarke found that she needed to take breaks. That worked out, though, because her mom refused to get up from their table, so it gave Clarke a chance to interact with her, keep her from feeling left out. “See,” she said, sitting down across from her, “isn’t this better than a boring rehearsal dinner?”

“It’s . . . a little wild,” her mom said, looking around. “I can’t even remember the last time I went to a nightclub.”

Clarke figured it had to have been decades ago. And nightclubs were probably a lot different back then. The music, the way people danced . . . no wonder her mom looked out of place. “You should get out there and dance,” she told her.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Aurora’s dancing,” Clarke pointed out. Aurora actually seemed like she was having the time of her life out there. She had moves Clarke hadn’t anticipated.

“She’s younger than me,” her mom pointed out. “And single.”

Clarke glanced back out to her bridal party, catching a glimpse of Aurora’s long brunette hair as she whipped it around. “Single and ready to mingle,” she said, pretty sure her future mother-in-law was dancing with a guy now. _Go for it_ , she thought. Aurora deserved a little fun.

“If I decide to have a bachelorette party, I want you to make sure to keep it mellow and simple,” her mom said. “You know, classy.”

Clarke plucked at her cheap little veil and teased, “What, are you saying I don’t look classy?”

“You . . . look like you’re having fun,” her mom said. “Which, I suppose, is the whole point of tonight.”

“That’s right.” Sure, her skirt was a little short, and her top showed some cleavage, but it was nice not to feel like her mom was judging her. It’d taken years, but she finally seemed to be loosening up a bit.

When the song changed from something pulse-pounding to something a little more mellow, the girls came off the dance floor, and Raven grabbed a shot. “One for me,” she said, downing it. “And one for the still breastfeeding bride.” She grabbed another one and threw her head back, drinking it on Clarke’s behalf. “Aurora, you coming?” she called back onto the dance floor.

“Not yet,” Lexa said, “but I’m sure she will be.”

“Ew, gross.” Octavia shuddered exaggeratedly and sat down next to Abby.

“I love how the Blakes always just get grossed out by each other,” Clarke said as the other girls squeezed in at the table.

“Hey, watch it. You become one of us tomorrow,” Octavia reminded her.

“I know. I’m so excited.” It was a little surreal to think that she’d start signing checks with a different last name, and when she introduced herself, she’d _say_ a different last name. She wondered if she’d slip up, or if it would all just be a natural transition.

“Are you excited about your honeymoon, too?” Raven asked, giving her a pointed look.

“What honeymoon?” her mom asked.

“Raven’s trying to convince me that Bellamy and I should tag along with her and Murphy,” Clarke explained. “To California.”

“Well, why not?” Raven said. “The flight still has seats.”

“But a honeymoon with a baby?” Clarke made a face. “I’m just not sure how that would work.”

“Murphy and I can help out,” Raven offered. “Trust me, we’ll make sure you guys get your alone time.”

When Raven put it like that, Clarke really felt the strong tug of temptation. Alone time with Bellamy sounded _so nice_ , especially since they’d be feeling extra lusty and romantic in the midst of their married bliss. She had to think of her daughter, though, and her put her best interests first. “But Avery’s so little to take on an airplane,” she said. “You know what that is up there? It’s all just recycled air. Germs everywhere.”

“She’s two months old, right?” Raven said.

“In three days.”

“Then she’s good to fly.” Raven held up her phone, showing Clarke a very official-looking article that said it was safe for infants to fly from that point onward.

“I don’t know,” she said, still nervous about the whole idea. What if the plane crashed? Sure, people claimed they were safer than cars, but it was still a man-made object in a wide open sky. With her precious little baby on board.

“Come on, it’d be fun,” Raven urged. “You guys deserve a honeymoon.”

Clarke felt her resistance weakening with each and every coercion attempt Raven tried. “But I’d feel bad barging in on your vacation with Murphy,” she said.

“Nothing to feel bad about if I’m inviting you.”

“True.” It wouldn’t be the typical honeymoon, obviously, because there was no way she was letting Avery out of her sight for more than a couple hours at a time. But it would still be a vacation, the first one she’d had since Wilmington, actually, and she’d always wanted to go to California. “Okay, what the hell?” she gave in. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Raven exclaimed, immediately tapping quickly on her phone. “I’ll book your tickets now.”

“I’ll pay you back, I promise.” Clarke wasn’t sure when she was going to get things packed up. Chances were that they’d be getting home pretty late tonight, and then with the wedding tomorrow . . . there wasn’t really a whole lot of time. But she’d make it work.

“While she’s doing that,” Harper said, whipping out her own phone, “who’s down for a little bachelorette trivia?”

“Ooh, competition,” Octavia said, clapping excitedly. “Fun.”

“Just like her brother,” Clarke leaned over and whispered to Lexa. Bellamy and Octavia loved anything where they could win.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Harper said, scrolling through some webpage. “Oh, okay, this is just like a fill-in-the-blank thing. The bride’s fondest memory is . . . what?”

Everyone exchanged knowing glances, and Octavia said, “I mean, it’s gotta be having Avery, right?”

“Yeah,” they all agreed.

Clarke nodded, not even having to give that one a second thought. “Yeah, definitely Avery. Although that’s also my most painful memory.” Now that she’d had one baby without any pain medication, she knew she could have another one that way, too. But hopefully the next one wouldn’t hurt quite as much.

“Well, that was easy,” Harper said. “Oh, this one’s fun. If the bride had a cereal named after her, it would be called . . . ?”

“Frosted Blakes,” Octavia quipped right away.

“Honey Nut Lesbos,” Lexa suggested.

“Did you guys ever eat Corn Pops?” Raven said. “‘cause it could be Cherry Pops since that’s what Bellamy popped on you.”

“Hmm, creative,” Clarke said, knowing her mother was probably inwardly cringing at that last one, “but I think I’m gonna go with Frosted Blakes. That’s cute.”

“Point for me,” Octavia said, even though she was probably the only one who would bother to keep score.

“Okay, what else?” Harper said, continuing to scroll. “Oh, this one’s obvious. Abby, cover your ears.”

Clarke’s mom wasted no time cupping both her hands over her ears.

“The bride’s favorite thing to do . . .” Harper said.

“Sex with Bellamy,” they all blurted, practically in unison.

“Yeah, it’s that,” Clarke said, smiling. As if anything else could even come close.

“Okay, Abby, you can uncover your ears now,” Harper said. “No, wait, cover them up again. The next one’s the craziest thing the bride’s ever done.”

“Oh, goodness, I don’t wanna know,” Clarke’s mom said, putting the imaginary earmuffs back on as all the girls—even Octavia, who was fueled by her competitive streak—began to make guesses about the various places she and Bellamy had had sex.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The place Murphy was dragging all the guys that night looked like . . . nothing much, to be honest. Kind of just a hole in the wall. But that wasn’t shocking. Not only was it a strip club, but it was in Polis. And everything was just _slightly_ sketchier in Polis.

“I just want you to know,” Miller said as they walked through the parking lot, “I’m only subjecting myself to this torture tonight because of you.”

“Well, I’m only here for Murphy,” Bellamy said.

“Hey, don’t make me out to be some perv,” Murphy said. “Everyone knows I’m a hundred percent in love with my girlfriend. But she and I both know that it’s normal and natural and even healthy to salivate over other naked people from time to time.”

“I’m just saying, if these naked people had dicks, I’d be more into it,” Miller remarked.

Bellamy stopped walking when his phone rang. Something told him it was Kane calling, and when he looked at the name on the screen, that was exactly who it was. “Hey, just a minute,” he said, stepping aside to answer quickly. “Hey, Kane. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kane said, “I meant to call Abby.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” He didn’t mind the chance to get an update on how things were going. “So everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Kane assured him.

Even though Bellamy knew he’d left Avery in good, capable hands tonight, he still had all these new dad vibes going on, and he wanted to just make _sure_ nothing would go wrong. “‘cause sometimes she gets a little cranky this time of night,” he said, “so I usually just get her purple bunny and wiggle that around in front of her face, and that calms her down when nothing else will.”

“She’s been a little angel so far,” Kane told him.

“Right. But if she gets worked up . . .”

“Purple bunny. Got it,” Kane said. “Have a good time, Bellamy.”

“Hey, she . . .” He didn’t get a chance to tell him what to _say_ when he wriggled the bunny around, because Kane ended the call. He lowered his phone slowly, trying to just focus on his bachelor party. Because it was the only one he’d ever have.

“Future father-in-law?” Roan guessed.

“One of ‘em.”

“Well, that was nice of him to watch the kid while we’re all out for a night of debauchery,” Murphy said, motioning them hurriedly towards the entrance of the club. “Now let’s go.”

Like an excited puppy, Jasper bounded in—he’d probably never been to a strip club before—and Monty and Roan followed him. Miller groaned and trudged forward, and Murphy rolled his eyes and punched him lightheartedly on the back, pushing him forward. “Suck it up,” he snapped.

“Wish I had something to suck on tonight,” Miller lamented.

Laughing, Bellamy shook his head, hanging back a bit. The club was called the Uranus Lounge. Which was a stupid name, but Bellamy expected nothing else. He wasn’t even sure he actually wanted to walk in there, but the only guy who stayed outside with him was the one guy he hadn’t even been sure he’d invite: Lincoln. “You know,” he said, “a couple years ago, I would’ve been so stoked for this.”

“And now?” Lincoln asked.

He shrugged. “Just seems kinda pointless.” It wasn’t like any girl there could hold a candle to the one he had at home.

“I get that,” Lincoln said, holding open the door for him. He walked through it, mostly just because he was down to have a fun night with his friends. The strippers were just . . . extra.

The minute he walked in, he felt . . . out of place. Because he’d been to strip clubs before, but usually there were a lot more people. Guys. Lots of guys. But most of the people at Uranus Lounge seemed to be women. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who noticed it, because Monty actually vocalized it when he asked, “Is it just me, or is there something a little off with this crowd?”

All of a sudden, that “Ladies Night” song began to play, and all the girls cheered and swarmed towards the stage. Three male strippers strutted out, shirtless and wearing ass-less leather chaps.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Miller exclaimed, running forward.

“No!” Jasper wailed. “Dammit, Murphy!”

“How was I supposed to know?” Murphy yelped, throwing his hands up defensively.

Roan shook his head, muttering, “You screwed it up.”

“Hey, at least I tried!” Murphy shouted over the music. “At least I tried!”

Honestly, Bellamy wasn’t surprised that Murphy had screwed up his bachelor party. In fact, he’d sort of been anticipating it, so it didn’t even come as that much of a letdown. But since he had absolutely no interest in watching the show up on that stage, he looked over at the bar instead, figuring that was where he’d start his night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I don’t know if you were aware of this or not,” Raven said as she guided Clarke . . . somewhere, “but Club Sanctum has a back room.”

Clarke couldn’t see a thing, because her best friend had conveniently put a blindfold on her. But when Raven untied her it, Clarke took a look at where she now was. “Ooh.” There was a small stage with a pole on it that definitely intrigued her. “What’s gonna happen in here?”

“Well, not exactly what you think,” Harper said, stepping up onto the stage. “See, my stripper friends had other . . . scheduled events tonight. So slight change of plans.” She grabbed onto the pole and swung herself around, looking effortless and graceful the way she always did. “We’re gonna do a pole-dancing class,” she announced. “And I’m gonna be your teacher.”

Clarke touched her stomach and said, “Harper, I just had a baby.” She wasn’t exactly in pole-dancing shape.

“And you look fabulous,” Harper said, reaching out her hand. “Come on up here. Come on.”

Still a little unsure, Clarke put her hand in Harper’s, letting herself be pulled up onstage. Her mom quickly scurried out of the room, so at least it would just be her and her friends.

“Yeah!” Lexa yelled. “Get it, Clarke!”

“You got this,” Raven assured her.

Did she really, though? Harper had a freaking dance degree, so there was no way she was going to look as good as she did up there.

“Now I’m gonna give you some moves to keep your man satis-fied. You understand?” Harper said. “Alright, now pay attention. I’m gonna show you how to do a sexy walk. Like this.” She grabbed the pole and demonstrated, strutting around it as if she had a crowd full of Montys watching her. “It’s easy,” she said. “Now go ahead. Grab the pole.”

Even though she felt like she might make a fool of herself, it wasn’t like anyone in that room would care or use it against her. Plus, she did kind of like the thought of learning how to do some new sexy stuff for Bellamy, so she cast her inhibitions aside, wrapped her hand around the pole, and mimicked Harper as she walked around it, trying to put on her best sultry face even though she felt like laughing.

“There you go. Very exaggerated,” Harper coached her. “Get your hips into it.”

She stopped in front of the pole and swiveled her hips from side to side, and the girls all cheered for her.

“Yeah!” Raven exclaimed. “You’re gonna put all the strippers he’s seeing tonight to shame!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Glancing over his shoulder, Bellamy wasn’t surprised to see Miller sprawled out in a plush chair, getting a lap dance from a guy who only wore a gold thong with money tucked into the sides. He looked like he was in heaven.

“Well, at least one of us is turned on,” Bellamy said, taking another drink. Sitting at a bar with Roan and Lincoln wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned his bachelor party, but it was what it was at this point.

“They’re making the most of it,” Roan said, motioning to Murphy, Monty, and Jasper, who were in the middle of their third game of pool. Each one got more competitive than the last, especially since Murphy was determined to win them all.

“You know,” Bellamy said, “it wouldn’t have even mattered if there’d been girls dancing tonight. I don’t think I would’ve paid attention to any of ‘em.”

Roan exchanged a knowing look with Lincoln and said, “The kid’s in love.”

“Sure is,” Lincoln agreed.

“No, I’m serious.” He wasn’t exaggerating or trying to seem more romantic than he actually was. He hadn’t really been looking forward to seeing any strippers tonight, so in a way, ending up at this club on ladies’ night was perfect. “No one else has ever measured up to Clarke for me,” he said. “No one ever will.”

****

_Gina flipped the page in her textbook, found a question, and slammed her hand down over it to cover up the answer. “Okay, Freud’s model of the psyche. Go,” she told him._

_He remembered drilling Freud stuff with her last week when they’d gotten together to study, but with all the theories these people had, sometimes they got a little jumbled. “That’s the id, the ego, and the superego,” he replied somewhat confidently._

_“Right,” she said. “And which part’s the id?”_

_“The instincts.” It was stupid, but he remembered that because they both started with the letter I. “Like the primitive, irrational part.”_

_“Yep. And it operates on the pleasure principle,” she added, “so it’s all about fulfilling basic needs like hunger and sex.”_

Those are basic? _he wondered but refrained from saying. They both seemed pretty damn important to him._

_“And the superego?” she continued to quiz him._

_“Uh, the conscience,” he answered. “It controls impulses.”_

_“Correct. And the ego?” she asked._

_“It’s like the balance between the two.”_

_“Right. The mediator.”_

_He leaned back in his chair, pondering that, feeling like Freud’s whole theory oversimplified things way too much. “I think that’s kind of crap, though. What if someone just has a lot of id?”_

_“Oh, some people do,” she said. “Which is why Freud’s theories are a complete crock. It’s just one of the things they’re required to teach you in intro-level psychology.”_

_If so many people had better theories, though, it seemed like a waste of time to even bother learning about it. But if it was true and a human being’s personality could be split into three categories like that, he wondered if his ego had been malfunctioning all those years. Because he’d definitely been an id-driven guy in high school. Hell, sex had been his biggest (and best) pastime._

_“You wanna keep going?” Gina asked him. “I don’t have another class this afternoon.”_

_He didn’t, either, but he did have practice in a couple hours. And to be honest, he didn’t want to spend all of those hours cooped up in this tutoring center studying. “Right now, my id’s tellin’ me I need to grab some lunch,” he told her._

_“Yeah, me, too,” she said, closing the book. “You wanna go--”_

_Before she could finish what she was saying, they were interrupted by a loud, boisterous voice. The same voice the starting offense heard when they were in the huddle. “Blake, my man,” Brady said, clapping Bellamy on the back as he came to stand by their table, “don’t tell me you’re actually studying again. You gotta know by now, there’s more than one way to pass a class.” He smirked._

_Bellamy shot an apologetic look at Gina. He’d never wanted a girl like her to see him around a guy like this._

_“And that’s probably my cue to leave,” she said, gathering up her things._

_“No, you don’t have to,” Bellamy told her. Brady could leave. What the hell was he doing there if he wasn’t studying anyway?_

_“Actually, I do,” she said, standing up. “I got a test of my own to cram for. But I’ll see you next week?”_

_“Yeah.” Even though he hadn’t intended on getting a tutor, it was helping. Gina explained things in a way he could understand, made him feel like he could actually pass his mid-term next month._

_“Okay,” she said, lifting her backpack onto her shoulders. “Bye.”_

_“Bye.” He felt bad as he watched her go, because he felt like his friend—or rather teammate’s—presence had instantly made her uncomfortable._

_“Gina, huh?” Brady said, sitting down beside Bellamy. “She’s . . . average. You could do better.”_

_There wasn’t anything going on, though, so Bellamy quickly told him, “She’s just my tutor.” He wasn’t getting another girlfriend anytime soon, and to be honest, even his usually-ravenous id wasn’t feeling very hungry for a hookup._

_“My tutor can’t walk straight,” Brady bragged, grinning proudly. He pointed to a girl who was leaning over a table to get a better look at someone’s laptop screen. “See her over there with her shirt on backwards?” he said. “I just hooked up with her. She’s not the one teachin’ me, but I’m definitely teachin’ her a few things.”_

_Bellamy had to admit, she was a hot girl, but if she worked at the tutoring center, she had to be pretty smart, too. So what the hell did she see in a guy like Brady?_

_“Don’t you love when they’re all young and innocent, and everything they’re doin’ with you they’re doin’ for the first time?” Brady said._

_That him think of Clarke, of all the firsts she’d had with him. She wasn’t the only girl whose virginity he’d taken, but she was still special._

_“Although some of it gets better once you break ‘em in,” Brady went on. “They don’t cry as much, don’t complain that it hurts. But I bet you won’t have that problem with your girl. She looks like she’s been fucked a few times.”_

_“I’m not fucking Gina,” he said. Maybe a year ago he would have, but right now . . . she was a friend, nothing more._

_“Why not?” Brady challenged. “See, I don’t understand you, Bellamy. You come here with this whole nice guy routine, studying and shit, won’t hook up with anyone, but . . . I don’t know.” He shook his head, eyeballing Bellamy skeptically. “I just don’t think that’s the real you.”_

Because it isn’t, _Bellamy thought_. Not really. _He’d never been the nice guy before. But that didn’t mean he’d been bad, either. He’d just been young, but even though he was still young, he definitely wasn’t the same as the guy sitting next to him; in fact, he refused to be. His mom had raised him to be better. And_ Clarke _would have wanted him to be better. So that was exactly what he was trying to be._

****

Bellamy must have looked incredibly disinterested, because even Lincoln, who he still didn’t know very well, could tell that he didn’t want to be there. “You wanna go home, don’t you?” he said.

Of course he did. Murphy’s half-baked attempt at a bachelor party had been an epic fail, and he hadn’t really wanted one anyway. There were two people he wanted to be around right now. One of them was out probably having a way better time than he was, and the other one was being babysat by Grandpa Kane.

Everyone except Miller left when Bellamy did—and he had a feeling Miller wouldn’t be leaving alone. Roan and Lincoln went home, too, but Murphy, Monty, and Jasper decided to go to Eligius. They invited Bellamy to come, of course, but he told them he was tired and needed to get some rest before the big day tomorrow. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. He had to wake up early to get things set up out there on the beach. The wedding arch alone was going to take a while to haul out there.

Avery was tired, too, when he picked her up from Kane’s. She was sleeping soundly, so he made sure to avoid any unnecessary bumps and potholes when he drove home. Didn’t want to disturb her. She woke up a little when he carried her inside, but not to the point where she whined or cried. She just kind of opened her eyes and smiled at him. Just because.

“You know what?” he said as he walked around the nursery with her in his arms, rocking her back to sleep. “In the past year, I’ve been a gondolier, a construction worker, a janitor, and a football coach. But being your dad . . . that’s the greatest job I’ve ever had.” Gently, he lay her down in her crib and whispered, “Best job in the world.” He would have gladly just stayed there for a while, looking down at her and watching her sleep, the front door opened, and Clarke came in calling his name from downstairs.

“Bellamy?”

She was home earlier than he’d expected. Maybe her night had been a bust, too. “Stay asleep now,” he told Avery, shutting the lights off on his way out.

“Bellamy, are you awake?” Clarke called up to him.

“Yeah.” He went down the stairs, noting the confetti stuck in her hair, and said, “Didn’t think I’d beat you home, did you?”

“No.” She dropped her purse on the floor, kicked off her shoes, and said, “You must not have stayed long.”

“Well, let’s just say . . .” He moved in close, wrapping his hands around her waist. “There were a lot of strippers there tonight. But I wasn’t attracted to a single one of ‘em.”

“Aww,” she said, “that’s so sweet.”

He laughed inwardly, but hell, even if there had been female strippers, they wouldn’t have been able to hold a candle to her. “What about you?” he asked her. “Any . . . entertainment?”

“No,” she said. “Well, kind of. I did sort of get a strip-tease/lap dance from Harper.”

“Oh.” At first, he was just happy that there hadn’t been any strippers at her bash. But then he started to picture Harper doing that to Clarke, and he immediately got turned on. “ _Oh_.”

“And she showed me how to give one,” she added, pushing on his chest to get him to walk backwards. “Wanna see?”

“Sure.”

“Sit down,” she said, giving him a gentle push towards the couch.

He plopped down on the cushions, very much looking forward to what he was about to see. Clarke could definitely dance, since she’d been a cheerleader and everything. And the thought of her dancing just for him made his jeans feel tight.

“It’s a little bit of this,” she said, crisscrossing her arms as she reached down and grabbed her shirt. She swirled and swiveled her torso as she pulled it up out of the waistline of her skirt. Her beautiful, full breasts nearly spilled out of the confines of her bra as she lifted the shirt off her head and tossed it to the floor. “And a little bit of that,” she went on, doing a little twirl for him. “And gotta get rid of this.” She reached behind to try to unzip her skirt but frowned when it wouldn’t go. “Oh, I’m stuck,” she said. “Help me.”

“Here, I got you,” he said, rising to his feet. He went to stand behind her, gave the stuck zipper a good tug, and got it to come down. He pulled her skirt down for her then, letting it drop to her feet.

“Thanks,” she said, stepping out of it before turning around to face him. “Knew I could rely on you to undress me.”

It was definitely one of the things he was best at. The fewer clothes she had on, the more his hands just couldn’t resist touching her. They settled on her hips, right over the sides of her underwear. She was wearing fancier stuff than she had been for the past few months. Maybe this had been her plan all along, to come home and seduce him. Even if it hadn’t been, it was working.

Lowering his head, he kissed her. Deeply, too. In fact, he let his tongue dart out to caress hers.

“Wait a minute,” she said, pulling back just slightly. “Don’t you want your dance?”

He couldn’t even fathom the thought of taking his hands off of her, so he said, “I just want you.” Their eyes locked, and she smiled softly as he leaned in to kiss her again. Kissing Clarke . . . god, it was like an addiction to him. One he never wanted to recover from.

Instinctively, her hands began to roam all over him, and his pulled her closer. Maybe because she was already almost naked, things heated up quickly. She got his shirt off quickly, then grazed her hands all over his chest. He squeezed at her butt, slipping his hands underneath her panties for that flesh to flesh contact. As content as he would have been to just fall to the floor with her or lay her down on the couch and do her right there, when she mumbled, “Upstairs,” against his lips, he obediently hoisted her up into his arms and carried her up to the second floor. They didn’t stop kissing; he didn’t have to have his eyes open to know where he was going.

“Mmm, is she asleep?” she asked between kisses as he carried her past the nursery.

“Yeah, she’s good.” He used his foot to kick open the bedroom door, brought her over to the bed, and set her down.

“One last time, huh?” she said, crawling up towards the headboard.

He frowned, standing next to the bed as he undid his pants. “What?”

“Before we get married,” he elaborated. “This is the last non-married sex we’ll ever have.”

He hadn’t thought about that, but suddenly, this felt even more important. “Then I’d better make it memorable,” he said, shoving his pants down, underwear right along with them. Completely naked, he crawled into bed with her, dead-set on getting her as unclothed as he was. She lay down, as if she were expecting him to get on top of her, but he grabbed her legs instead, bringing them together and lifting them up over his shoulder. It didn’t take words for them to get in sync, for her to know what to do. She lifted her hips up and pushed her underwear over her ass and off. He grabbed the sides in both hands and dragged them down over her thighs, her knees, her ankles, and right off her feet. He could smell her arousal even before he pulled one leg out to each side for her, spreading her open to his view. Having a baby definitely made it harder for her to get wet, but as tempting as it was for him to just use some spit to lube her up and plunge right in, he restrained himself. Because he didn’t want to hurt her.

Her chest heaved as he stared down at her, just taking in the sight of her gorgeous body. This was his girl, his princess. Tomorrow night, she’d be his wife.

“I love you,” he told her. The words just came out on their own.

“I love you, too,” she said, smiling.

Even saying those words didn’t feel like enough to him, though. How was he ever supposed to express to her just how much she meant to him? It didn’t feel like something words could convey.

Luckily, words weren’t the priority right now. He lay down on top of her, only long enough to kiss her a little bit more and slip his arms underneath her. Then, swiftly and easily, he reversed their positions so that she was on top of him, so that she could show him what she wanted.

Since they were definitely still getting back into the swing of sex, they’d kept it pretty basic so far with missionary. Clarke had felt too self-conscious about her body to be on top. But tonight, she’d either gotten over it or just didn’t care, because she sat up, straddling him like a complete boss and began to grind her pussy against his dick. She did still have _some_ natural lubrication, because he felt it sliding all over him.

“You like that?” she asked, pressing her hands against his chest to keep herself steady as she moved.

“Yeah,” he answered huskily. It felt damn good, and he wasn’t even in her yet.

“Me, too,” she said, smiling excitedly. Still, her eyes flickered towards the nightstand, though, and he knew what that meant. So with his longer arms, he reached over and pulled out the lube, giving it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, squirting a little into her hand. She stopped moving for a moment as she reached down to rub it all over her pussy, even up inside her folds. He wanted to help, so he grabbed the lube back from her, put some in his own hand, and reached out with his big fingers to smooth some first on the inside of her thighs, then right around her entrance.

“Oh . . .” she moaned, closing her eyes and craning her neck back as he touched her.

He tested things out by pushing one finger up inside her, just to see if it went in smoothly. And it did. It didn’t seem to cause her any pain. In fact, her moan indicated pleasure. Carefully, he fucked his finger up into her a few times before withdrawing it completely. His dick stood at attention, ready to get in on the action, but he wanted to give her some more foreplay first and sat up so he could hold her in his lap.

“What’re you doing?” she asked teasingly, touching his cheek.

He answered that question by lowering his face to her cleavage and pressing a big, hungry kiss there. God, he missed playing with her tits, missed getting to suck on them and roll her nipples between his fingers. But he understood why she wanted to limit the amount of time he spent them, what with them being Avery’s food source and all. Still, he couldn’t—and in fact _wouldn’t_ —ignore them completely, so he reached behind her back to deftly unhook her bra. When he moved his head back, she was able to shimmy right out of the last piece of clothing that was in their way. He cupped both her breasts in his hands, just wanting to feel the weight of them for a moment, even though he couldn’t lavish attention on them. She let him, and she didn’t object, either, when he pulled her in so tightly to make out with her that their chests just plastered together. That contact was enough to sustain him, because he could feel how hard and pebbled her nipples were. Someday, when Avery was done breastfeeding, he was going to make Clarke cum just by working on her boobs. Of course, though, if he had his way, she’d probably be pregnant again by then, so . . .

“B-Bellamy,” she stammered against his lips, her voice full of a quiet urgency. “I need you.”

_I need you, too_ , he thought, kissing his way down her cheek to her neck. He’d always needed her. Even when he’d been across the country, or across the whole fucking ocean in _another_ country, he’d needed her. That was why he’d come back.

Putting his hands under her ass, he lifted her up a bit, helping her to get situated in the perfect spot to sit down on his cock. She reached down to hold it steady and position it right at her entrance, and it took all his willpower to keep from slamming his hips up into her to just fuck her wild. Instead, he helped her sink down onto him, watching as her eyes closed and her face contorted in pleasure. She made a few sounds that drove him wild, and once again, he had to fight to keep his hips still. It was important now more than ever that he make sure she was comfortable and ready to go before he actually started . . . going.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, leaning forward so that she could rest the side of her head against his, and he just grazed his hands up and down her back, gently tracing her spine as he waited for his cue to continue. He received it in the form of some hip movement. She moved her hips in just enough of a circular motion to indicate that she was ready for him to thrust, so he began pushing up into her experimentally, testing out how deep he could go and how deep she wanted him. This particular position, as much as he loved it, didn’t allow for the most movement, so his thrusts were more slow and sensual.

Clarke seemed to like it. She clenched and quivered around him, each time pulling him deeper. He wasn’t sure how much space was even left between them, but it couldn’t have been much. It seemed like every bit of heat coming off of her body just flowed right into him, and he was more than willing to absorb it. Especially since he was giving it all right back to her. Working up a sweat with Clarke was nothing new. In fact, the only time it didn’t seem to happen was when they were doing it in the shower with some colder water pouring down atop them.

“Mmm,” she moaned melodically into his ear. Even during sex, she had a pretty voice.

Did she want more? Did she want him to lie back so she could ride him, or flip them over so he could fuck her? He wasn’t sure, so keeping his arms tightly wrapped around her, careful to keep them connected, he lay down on his side with her. When he shifted around a bit, he almost slipped out of her, which made her whimper with disappointment.

“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling, getting a kick out of how much she enjoyed this. “I got it.” He put one hand under her leg and lifted it up a bit, causing her to spread open for him more. He pushed in deeper, trying to bury as much of his cock in her as he could. This wasn’t their most utilized position, but it was nice being able to just lie there with her, face to face, and fuck her slowly. When her hair fell onto her cheek, he brushed it aside for her, and when her lips started to tremble and whisper nonsense, he quieted her with a kiss.

She ended up cumming without him even having to reach down and rub her clit. He wasn’t sure what got her off—it wasn’t like he’d changed his pace or started touching her. Maybe it’d just built up and exploded in her. All the way through her. Everything about her tightened. Her pussy tightened on his cock, and her arms and legs wrapped tighter around him. She squeezed him all over as she rode out her orgasm, and it didn’t take much else to spur his own. He thrust up into her a few more times just as she was coming down from it, then closed his eyes and let himself go, too. His orgasm was quicker than hers, but he still felt pretty spent afterward, like he couldn’t move even if someone had paid him. But that was okay. He didn’t wanna move a muscle, not when he could hold her like this.


	81. Chapter 81

_Chapter 81_

From the moment she woke up, Clarke had butterflies in her stomach. The good kind of butterflies, though, not the bad kind. Because before she even opened her eyes, her mind filled with wedding day thoughts. Because no longer was she waking up thinking that it was three days away or two or one. No. Today was _the_ day.

Reaching over to Bellamy’s side of the bed, she felt . . . nothing. Just a whole lot of open space. Confused, she opened her eyes, sat up, and looked around for him. “Bellamy?” The bathroom door was open, and there were no lights on, so he wasn’t in there. Maybe he was downstairs or in the nursery.

She got up and walked over to the dresser, pulling open one of Bellamy’s drawers so she could grab one of his t-shirts. She threw it on and headed out of the bedroom to go check on Avery, but just as she was pushing open the nursery door, she heard some kind of noise outside. Not some loud commotion, but not the typical beach sounds, either. It was just enough to catch her attention, so she wandered over to the sliding door and looked out. The deck obscured most of her view, so at first, she just took a moment to appreciate the fact that it was already a bright and sunny day, perfect for a wedding. But when she stepped outside and looked down over the railing she saw that Bellamy was out there with his friend Roan, and together, they were trying to lift something huge out of the back of Roan’s truck. It must have been heavy, because, despite being strong guys, they were both struggling with it. Eventually, they slid it down off the truck bed, though, and Clarke got a closer look at what it actually was. A wedding arch. A _beautiful_ wedding arch that she would soon be standing under with her high school sweetheart.

When Bellamy glanced up and saw her standing there, he stopped what he was doing and called up to her, “Hey!”

“Hey,” she said back, trying to figure out when he’d gone out and gotten a whole wedding arch without her. “Where did you get that?”

“I made it,” he boasted proudly. “Roan helped.”

One quick look at Bellamy’s friend and Clarke could tell that he’d done more than help. Without him, the arch probably wouldn’t have come together. But it had surely been Bellamy’s idea, his vision.

“Hey, guess what?” he said excitedly.

“What?”

Grinning from ear to ear, he exclaimed, “We’re getting married today!”

She laughed and said, “I know!” even though it didn’t quite seem real yet. This day . . . it’d been a long time coming, that was for sure.

“I love you!” he yelled up to her so loudly, as if he wanted the whole world to hear it.

“I love you, too!” she yelled back at him. God, she felt so lucky. A year ago, he’d still been in Italy, and she’d been going through a breakup with Finn. This was so much better.

That brief exchange with her fiancé and a twenty minute feeding session with Avery ended up being the last moments of peace Clarke had that day. After that, everything started to get very hectic and began to move along very fast. Her mom and Kane were the first to get there, followed by her dad and Alyssa. None of them were dressed, but they all had their clothes with them. Her dad and Kane headed outside to help get things set up, and her mom sat her down to give her something old—a bracelet that apparently had belonged to her great grandmother—and something new—a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings. Alyssa took care of both something borrowed and something blue when she ‘loaned’ Clarke a blue garter. They seemed to have worked together to get that tradition covered, which was . . . actually kind of nice. Clarke didn’t anticipate that her mom would ever actually _befriend_ her ex-husband’s new girlfriend, but at least they were getting along.

When other people started to show up, the beach house started to feel _really_ small, and the chaos began to escalate. Clarke didn’t even have a chance to talk to Bellamy when he came back inside, because two of her bridesmaids whisked her away upstairs to start getting ready. Bellamy was banished to the downstairs bathroom and probably wouldn’t need any help getting ready, because all he had to do was put on his suit and comb his hair. Clarke, on the other hand, was relying on her friends to clip in some hair extensions for her, because her hair was at a weird in-between length where it wasn’t short enough to be short but also wasn’t long enough to be long. She was also relying on them to do her makeup for her, and to help her into her dress so that she didn’t tear or split anything. Aurora was literally a part-time seamstress, though, so if some kind of wardrobe crisis did strike, it wasn’t the end of the world.

Despite all her efforts to stay calm, Clarke couldn’t help but feel the nervous kind of butterflies as Raven and Harper scurried and skittered all around her in the bathroom like two assistants backstage at a fashion show. It wasn’t like they were on a strict timeline or anything, but there was sort of his silent understanding that they didn’t want to keep everyone downstairs waiting for _too_ long. Every time the doorbell rang, Clarke just pictured her living room and kitchen getting more and more packed.

“Oh my god, I’m so stressed out,” she confessed as Harper tried to comb through a knot in her hair. “I don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered,” Raven promised confidently. “We had a bridesmaids team meeting last night just to iron out all the details for today.”

“I’ve got your hair covered,” Harper assured her. “Trust me.”

Considering Harper had the best beachy waves Clarke had ever seen, she did trust her.

“And your makeup’s all on me,” Raven said, untwisting a tube of mascara.

“And what’s Octavia doing?” Clarke asked. Her third bridesmaid had shown up shortly after the other two, with Lincoln, of course, who looked like the Hulk in his suit.

“Making sure Bellamy stays downstairs,” Raven said. “He keeps trying to come up here to see you.”

_I wanna see him_ , Clarke thought. She knew it was tradition and everything, keeping the bride and groom apart until the ceremony, but she wasn’t in her dress yet. He wouldn’t be seeing anything he wasn’t allowed to.

“Your mom’s getting Avery ready,” Harper said. “She’s gonna look so cute.”

Clarke smiled, imagining what her little girl would look like wearing the dress she’d bought for her. “She’s always cute.”

Harper smirked and added, “Pastor Monty looks pretty cute, too, if I do say so myself.”

“Is he nervous?” Raven asked, leaning towards the mirror to test out the mascara on her own eyelashes.

“No, he rehearsed everything a couple times last night. He’s good to go,” Harper said. She threaded her hands through Clarke’s hair, working out any remaining tangles, and asked, “What about you? You gotta give your vows today.”

“I wrote them out days ago,” Clarke said. She had them memorized and had rehearsed them many times.

“You wanna practice on us?” Raven asked, apparently unsatisfied with the mascara as she set it aside and surveyed other options.

“Sure.” Clarke cleared her throat and started in. “Helen Keller once said . . .”

Raven interrupted her immediately. “No, stop.”

“What?” She’d barely even started.

Raven made a face. “Not good.”

“You didn’t even hear the quote,” Clarke protested.

“Why are you starting with a quote?” Harper asked. Even though she was less blunt than Raven, the expression on her face clearly conveyed that she wasn’t feeling it, either.

“Because it’s called an attention-grabber,” Clarke explained. Surely they, too, had learned about that in seventh grade English class.

“These are your wedding vows, Clarke, not an essay,” Raven reminded her.

Well, when she put it like that . . . _Damn_ , Clarke thought, feeling her stomach sink with dread. She’d really gone about it the wrong way, hadn’t she? Her vows, in their current state, were too structured, too formulaic. “So no Helen Keller?” she said, still reluctant to ditch the quote, because then she felt like she’d have to start all over.

“No,” Raven said. “Even though she was pretty awesome.”

Clarke whimpered and frowned as Harper clipped the first hair extension in for her. “So what am I supposed to do?” Time was obviously of the essence, and she’d already been feeling stressed enough as it was.

“Just speak from the heart,” Harper suggested, making it sound easy. And maybe . . . maybe it _was_ that easy. If she just did that, then she wouldn’t need an attention-grabber, wouldn’t need to worry about hitting any specific points in any certain order. Her heart was very full of Bellamy, so that meant it was full of things to say.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since Bellamy had already finished getting ready, there was nothing to do but wait. And the waiting was agony. The arch and the chairs were all set up and decorated on the beach. The woman playing the music for when Clarke walked down the aisle had shown up on time with her acoustic guitar. Hell, there was a caterer at Abby’s house who was probably going to get impatient when the reception started an hour later than they’d told him it would. Logically, Bellamy knew that it took girls a lot longer to get ready than guys, and he didn’t want Clarke to have to rush anything. But emotionally . . . damn, he just wanted to get married to her _now_.

Controlled chaos raged around him downstairs as he waited. Octavia wasn’t being wild, just . . . loud. They had some music going, and whenever she didn’t like a song that was playing, she didn’t hesitate to let everyone know it. Lincoln, in contrast, was quiet, of course, but he was such a big guy that he kept running into things as he tried to squeeze past people and accidentally knocked some ceramics off the fireplace. He apologized profusely when they broke, of course, but Bellamy had never cared for them much anyway. They were just some decorative cats, which he’d never understood why Clarke had in the first place. So he cleaned them up and told Lincoln not to worry about it, because honestly, he was glad they were gone.

Monty and Maya occupied their time with a riveting game of rock, paper, scissors, and Lexa and Jasper must have been bored, too, because they decided to sit down at the kitchen table and do some arm-wrestling. Jasper never stood a chance at that. Murphy walked around vlogging everything for a while, and the “adults” all just stood around talking. Raven’s dad Sinclair was there, whom Bellamy had never actually met before, and so was one of the dancers from the strip club last night. Miller had brought him as a date, but Bellamy knew better than to question whether or not it was serious.

In an effort to stay out of the chaos as much as possible, Bellamy stood out on the back porch and watched Roan’s two daughters zig-zag through the rows of chairs on the beach. He chased after them while his wife stood back and watched, laughing. Roan was definitely a good dad. Bellamy had never seen him interact with his kids before, but seeing them together definitely gave him a glimpse into his own future and the kind of dad he hoped to be with Avery. He looked forward to running around out there with her, maybe making some monster noises as he chased her. He looked forward to hearing her laugh and giggle when he caught her up and swung her around in the air. But as eager as he was to play with her when she was older, he also didn’t want her to grow up too fast.

His best man eventually came outside to join him on the porch and asked, “Everything ready to go out here?”

“Looks like,” he replied. “I’m glad it’s not cloudy or raining.”

“Yet,” Miller said. “It’s supposed to rain tonight. Which is when we’re gonna end up having this wedding if Clarke doesn’t hurry up.”

“Yeah, I know.” Chances were, it was Raven and Harper who were slowing the process down, fixating on little minute details that no one else in attendance would even notice. “I’ll go check on her,” he said, heading back inside. He managed to make it all the way to the stairs before Octavia shot to her feet and darted around him to stand on one of the middle steps, blocking his progress.

“Um, where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

“Upstairs,” he answered simply.

She shook her head stubbornly and said, “Nope. I’m told Clarke just got into her wedding dress. If she wasn’t off limits before, she sure is now.”

He sighed frustratedly, wishing he could just go say something to his girlfriend—almost wife. He didn’t have to go into the room; he could just stand outside the door. “You know I could bust straight through you, right?” he said, truly considering just charging past her.

She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him challengingly, and said, “Oh, I’d like to see you try.”

_Dammit_ , he thought, reluctantly giving in. Octavia was small, but she was kind of scary because she fought dirty. He couldn’t exactly wrestle her in his suit and everything, so he turned and headed back into the living room. To wait some more.

“So?” Miler asked. “Update?”

“She’s in her dress.” That was progress, at least. It couldn’t be too much longer now.

“Good,” Murphy said from the couch. He’d sprawled out and was hogging all the cushions to himself. “I’m so bored, I’m about ready to start taking pictures of my own penis.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time,” Bellamy said, thankful for a distraction when Abby came towards him with a dolled up Avery in her arms.

“Show your daddy your dress, Avery,” Abby said, her voice taking on that high-pitched tone reserved just for babies. “Doesn’t she look adorable?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, wondering if they could reuse the same dress for her baptism. “Come here.” He reached out and took her, careful not to mess up the floral headband she was wearing. “You’re a little too young to be a flower girl, but we’re gonna have you do it anyway,” he said.

“Is Aurora taking her down the aisle?” Abby asked.

“Yeah.” He hoped there weren’t any hard feelings there. It was just that, Jake was already walking Clarke down the aisle, so they’d wanted his side of the family represented, too.

Luckily, being a grandmother seemed to have mellowed Abby out a lot, because she smiled and said, “That’ll be nice.”

Yeah, it would be. The whole wedding, despite being thrown together in under a month, would be nice, assuming it ever got started. For now, though, they seemed to have a bit more time to kill, so that meant he had more conversation to make. Abby may not have been the guest he wanted to talk to the most, but hell, they’d been getting along for a while now, and he wanted to make sure it continued that way. “Did you ever think we’d end up here?” he asked her. “Me marrying your daughter?”

“Hmm . . . not at first,” she admitted. “I thought you were a phase.”

“You hoped,” he corrected. Which was fine. There were probably plenty of mothers in Arkadia who had _prayed_ he’d just been a phase for their daughters.

“Well . . .” She didn’t deny that, because she couldn’t. She did, however, add on, “For whatever it’s worth . . . I was wrong about you. And I’m glad we all ended up here.”

That actually struck a chord with Bellamy. It was worth a lot coming from her. It seemed like he’d really managed to change her mind about him. No easy feat. “I’m gonna be your son-in-law,” he told her, stating the obvious.

“I know,” she said. “I promise, I won’t be a horrible mother-in-law.”

“Alright.” He laughed a little, thinking about how he was gonna hold her to that, because it seemed like there were so many horror stories people had about their in-laws.

“So are you ready?” she asked him.

“So ready.” He glanced at the stairs, upon which Octavia had sat down and was now looking at something on her phone. If he tried running past her, though, she’d tackle him and pull him right back down.

“I’m sure you just keep going through your vows in your head,” Abby said.

“No, I’m just gonna wing it.”

She shot him an alarmed look.

“I got this, trust me,” he assured her. Speech class had been the one class he’d aced without any problems, and he’d always just come up with everything on the spot.

“Bellamy?” his own mom said quietly as she approached them. “You think we could have one last mother-son moment before you get married?”

“Sure,” he said, handing Avery back to Abby. “Here you go.” Talking to his mom was still a hell of a lot easier than talking to Clarke’s, so he motioned her to follow him into the laundry room. Because she looked sort of emotional, like this might be the type of talk that made her cry, and he doubted she wanted anyone else to witness that. “Sorry,” he said, shutting the door, “this is the only quiet room in the house right now.”

“That’s okay.” She leaned back against the washer and just looked at him, smiling shakily, already blinking back tears.

“Mom, don’t,” he said.

“I won’t. I just . . .” She came closer to him, pressing her lips tightly together. They still quivered, though, as she took in a deep breath, and her voice still wavered when she spoke again. “I want you to know how proud of you I am today. Every day.”

_Every day?_ he thought, doubting that he’d done something worthy of pride every day.

“I woke up this morning feeling so happy and so excited for you, because . . . this is what you deserve,” she said, a few tears spilling over despite her best efforts to hold them in. “I wasn’t able to give you everything growing up. We both know that.”

“No, you gave me so much,” he reassured her quickly. Because he never wanted her to doubt what an amazing mom she’d been.

“But I wasn’t . . .” She trailed off, sighing, and said, “It wasn’t _this_. Avery’s gonna grow up with two parents who love her, and I wasn’t able to give you that.”

That wasn’t her fault, though. There was only his deadbeat dad to blame for that. “I only needed one,” he said, smiling at her.

“Do you get what I’m saying, though?”

“Yeah.” He got it, but even though he was happy to be able to give Avery a traditional family, he still didn’t feel like his life had been lacking in any way.

“Oh, Bellamy.” She pulled him in close for a hug, sniffling back the happy kind of tears. “You’re a wonderful man.”

_Am I?_ he thought to himself, unsure. There were certainly plenty of times in his life where he could have been better. But there were also plenty of times where he’d actually _been_ better.

“Thanks,” he told his mom, slowly pulling back from her.

“It’s true,” she said.

“No, I mean . . . thanks for saying that,” he said, struggling to clarify what, exactly, he was thanking her for. It wasn’t just a simple compliment she’d given him; it’d inspired him. “I think I know what my vows are gonna be now,” he told her as ideas continued to race through his head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing before her full-length mirror, Clarke took in her reflection. This wasn’t the same as merely trying on the dress at the bridal store. This was the real deal. This was a whole _look_ with her hair and makeup done, too. Raven had highlighted her cheeks just right so that she had a beachy glow, and Harper had put in the extensions flawlessly, so now she was sporting some light waves that made her want to grow her hair out again.

Her friends came up on either side of her and looked in awe at her reflection. “You look amazing,” Harper said.

“Bellamy’s totally gonna cry,” Raven predicted.

Harper sniffled and said, “I think _I’m_ gonna cry.”

“No, don’t,” Clarke told her. “Because if you guys start, then I’ll start, too, and we can’t ruin this makeup.”

“No, we can’t,” Raven agreed. She put her arm around Clarke’s shoulders, gave her an excited squeeze, and said, “Alright. Let’s go get you married to the man of your dreams.”

Clarke watched in the mirror as her whole face lit up with excitement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_No more waiting_ , Bellamy thought as he stepped up to the wedding altar. _Finally_.

Beside him, his groomsmen stood, and Murphy of course had his camera out to capture the moment, and Jasper looked like he was already teary-eyed. Miller stood right next to him as his best man and gave him a smile and an encouraging nod. On his other side, standing slightly behind the alter, was Monty, who either wasn’t nervous to conduct the ceremony or was just hiding it really well.

Obviously it wasn’t a big wedding, but looking out and seeing the faces of friends and family warmed Bellamy’s heart in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Clarke’s mom, like Jasper, was already crying when the soft guitar music began to play. Kane had his arm around her and had to tell her to quit wiping her eyes so she could see Avery come down the aisle. And the second she came into view, that was all Bellamy could see. His little girl, his angel. She wasn’t really throwing the flowers, of course, but his mom threw a few on her behalf. She sat down on the opposite side of the aisle as Abby and positioned Avery so that she had the perfect view of what was going on. Even if she didn’t understand it yet, she had a front row seat to watch her mom and dad get married.

Octavia came down the aisle next, flowers in hand and a knowing smirk on her face. When she got close enough to him, she whispered, “About damn time,” before heading over to stand on the other side of the alter.

Yeah, it was definitely time. This had been six years in the making.

For some reason, as Harper and Raven came down the aisle, Bellamy’s mind started to wander. It drifted back into a memory, one he hadn’t thought about for a long time. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard his college football coach talking to him. To the whole team, actually, but it felt like it was just to him.

_“There are moments you’ll remember for the rest of your life,”_ he’d said. It rang out in Bellamy’s head loudly, as if demanding to be heard. He looked over at Avery, remembering the moment she’d been born, the first time he’d held her in his arms. And then he thought further back, _way_ back, to the evening after practice when Clarke had come into the boy’s locker room looking for him. He never would have imagined at the time that one simple conversation would end up changing his whole life.

Again, his coach’s voice rang out in his head: _“This right here is one of those moments.”_

He looked down at the end of the makeshift aisle, glimpsing white.

****

_Heart pounding a mile a minute, Bellamy stood in the tunnel with the rest of the team as music boomed over the louder speakers from the stadium. Pump-up music. It mixed with the roars and cheers of the crowd. And it sounded like a_ big _crowd._

_“Savor this,” Coach Lightbourne told them, his one voice somehow managing to overcome all the other distractions. “The sights, the sounds . . . everything. Let it soak in. Because I promise you, you won’t ever feel a rush quite like this again.”_

Ever? _Bellamy wondered. Was that actually true?_

_“Some of you are stepping out onto that field for your first game,” his coach said. “Some of you have been doing this for years now. Doesn’t matter. When we run out there, I want us all to remember . . . that this is a moment._ Our _moment. And right now, it means everything.”_

_A few pump-up chants later, they took the field, each of them running out behind their coach, trying to soak it all in. But it was overwhelming. Bellamy had never played in front of so many people in such a big space. This wasn’t like back at home where he could look up into the stands and see the faces of people he knew. He couldn’t make out anyone._

_He knew his mom and sister were there, though, and he knew where they were sitting, so he ran a little farther down the sideline than the other guys, trying to get closer to the south end zone. They weren’t easy to spot since they were wearing the same black and gold colors that most other fans of the home team were wearing. But he managed to locate them sitting exactly where they’d said they would be. They weren’t too far up, and they were both watching him and waving at him. Octavia looked thrilled to be there, and his mom just looked so damn proud._

_He raised his hand to wave back at them, but . . . as glad as he was to see that they’d made the trip down to Florida for his first game, his interest was even more piqued by someone sitting next to his mom. Someone with long blonde hair. She was turned around talking to somebody behind her, but . . . it was someone with long blonde hair._

No way, _he thought, but he let himself believe it was possible, let himself believe that she’d come, too. He thought about what it would be like to hug her after all of this was over tonight, to be able to celebrate his first college football game with three people he cared about instead of just two. But all those hopes were crushed when the blond girl turned around. He squinted, peering closer to get a better look at her face. But he could tell right away that it wasn’t the face he was hoping to see. It wasn’t Clarke._

_He tried not to look too disappointed, because he didn’t want to_ be _disappointed. Even though he was probably going to be on the sidelines for the majority of the game, this was still . . . a moment. Just like his coach had said. But he had to admit, without Clarke there to soak it all in with him, it just didn’t mean as much as it should have._

****

Bellamy felt like his breathing stopped when he met Clarke’s eyes. There she was. His best friend. His soulmate. She looked so beautiful in her white dress, and her surprisingly longer hair was blowing in the breeze. Even from far away, he could tell that her blue eyes were sparkling. Because they always were.

It seemed like she was going in slow motion as she glided towards him, her arm linked with her father’s as he escorted her. And the whole time Bellamy watched her, unable to even _try_ to look at someone else to gauge their reaction, he just kept feeling like he couldn’t breathe. Completely breathless, but in the best way possible. Because the girl coming towards him was the absolute love of his life.

When she reached the altar, it took everything he had not to just put his arms around her and pull her close. She stopped and hugged her dad, who in turn shook Bellamy’s hand before he took his seat. Clarke handed her bouquet off to Raven and came a little closer, close enough that he could reach out and hold her hands, and together they stood underneath the very altar he’d made for her and just gazed at each other.

“Hey, Princess,” he whispered, loud enough only for her to hear.

“Hey,” she whispered quietly back.

He wanted to kiss her already, wanted to slide that ring on her finger and make it official. But he had to settle for just holding her hands and grazing his thumbs over her knuckles. His hands were impatient. So were his lips, because he almost launched straight into his vows. But Monty began the ceremony before he could utter a word, which probably saved him a lot of embarrassment.

“We are gathered here today,” Monty said, “to share with Bellamy and Clarke an important moment in their lives.”

Bellamy smirked inwardly. Oh, yeah. _This_ was a moment.

“Their time together has given their love and understanding of each other an opportunity to grow and blossom and flourish,” Monty continued on, “and now, they have decided to live out the rest of their lives as one.”

Bellamy was so caught up in the beautiful woman in front of him that parts of what happened next just seemed . . . less important. Monty didn’t bother with the whole, “Does anyone object?” part because . . . obviously no one there did. He did talk a little about how long they had known each other, and he said that fate had brought them back together again. Then he went on to say some things about what marriage was and why it was so special. Bellamy halfway listened, but mostly, he just looked at Clarke, smiling when she smiled, squeezing her hands after she squeezed his.

When it was time for the vows, she was the first one up and mumbled something about how it wasn’t fair that Bellamy had even _more_ time to make his epic. That got a laugh out of those who were close enough to hear, including Bellamy himself.

She let out a heavy breath and just said, “Okay.” And that was it for a few seconds. He wasn’t sure if she’d forgotten or was just too nervous to say anything, but he waited it out, and eventually, she started talking: “So I had this whole spiel all planned out, but at the last minute, my bridesmaids convinced me to change it. They told me to speak from the heart,” she informed him. “So I tried to get all thoughtful and introspective and think about . . . well, what exactly _is_ in my heart? What’s it consist of? And it’s pretty obvious.” She blinked back tears, her voice quieter when she said, “It’s you.”

He wanted to tell her that it went both ways, that she was his whole heart, too, but he wasn’t about to interrupt.

“You’re such a huge part of it that I can’t even remember what it was ever like when you weren’t there,” she said, her expression changing momentarily as she . . . reflected, maybe. “We weren’t in love when we first got together. That’s no secret,” she said. “And I don’t think either one of us thought we were gonna fall in love.”

He laughed and shook his head slightly. Nope, he definitely hadn’t thought that.

“But we did,” she said. “It was like . . . like you just moved into my heart and decided to make it your home. And even when you went away, part of you was still there. I didn’t talk about it or even dwell on it as much as I could have, but . . . I don’t know, I just felt this _ache_. This longing for you. Because I wanted to be with you. I wanted you to come back home. And then you did. And my heart felt full again.”

_Mine, too_ , he thought. He’d felt that same ache, sometimes consciously, sometimes not. He’d felt that same longing.

“And it’s even fuller now with Avery,” she said. “I feel so lucky. God, am I even making sense?”

“Yeah.” He understood everything she was saying.

“Because I just feel like I’m rambling at this point, but . . . you _are_ my heart, Bellamy,” she told him emphatically. “You’re my home. You’re my person, and . . . and I am _so_ happy to be able to spend my life with you. I love you.”

“I love you,” he said, wishing there was a way he could express just how _much_ he loved her. Even these vows wouldn’t be enough for that. “My turn?” he asked Monty, and upon getting an affirmative nod in response, he started in. “Alright. Well, you know, it’s funny that something your friends said inspired your vows, because something my mom said inspired mine.” He tore his eyes away from Clarke for the first time throughout that ceremony, just to cast a quick glance at the woman who’d raised him. She still had Avery in one arm but put her other hand over her heart as if to indicate that she was touched. Even though she hadn’t even heard _how_ she’d inspired him yet.

Returning his focus to Clarke, he revealed, “She pulled me aside while you were getting ready and told me how proud of me she is. That I’m a wonderful man.” He almost rolled his eyes as he said that, because it sounded like he was bragging. “But here’s the thing: I don’t know if that’s completely true. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m . . . sufficiently average.”

Clarke made a face, probably the same kind of face his mom was making.

“But not with you,” he tacked on quickly, just so they could figure out where he was going with this. “When I’m with you, it’s like I become the best version of myself. And it’s not because you change anything or fix anything about me. It’s not like that. You just make me . . . better. You bring out the best in me, without even trying. I don’t know how you do it, but I think that’s what a soulmate’s supposed to do.”

Clarke eyes got really shiny really quickly. She was trying not to cry. But that look on her face showed him that it wouldn’t be long until she did.

“We’ve been through so much together, some highs and some lows,” he recalled. “We’ve already been through good times and bad times. But you know what? I’ve never loved you more than I do right now.”

That did it. The first few tears spilled over. And dammit, seeing her cry made him start to cry, too.

“You deserve so much, and I’m gonna try to give you everything. You and Avery both,” he promised. “I’m gonna try to be Superman and Hercules and . . . I don’t know, every great male character ever rolled into one for you.”

That got a tearful laugh out of her.

“You guys are my whole life, so if there’s ever a day where I’m not the best husband and the best father I can possibly be, just let me know. Just tell me, and I’ll be better,” he said. “Because you deserve the best. I’m so in love with you.”

She whispered his name so quietly that he didn’t even hear it. He just saw her lips move.

After that, they finally got to exchange the rings. Monty said something as they slid them onto each other’s fingers that the rings were a symbol of eternal love and devotion. And Bellamy liked the sound of that. _Eternal_. It was fitting, since he and Clarke were an eternal thing.

And finally, _finally_ , they got to the end of the ceremony, the part everyone knew about and looked forward to most, the part where Monty said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Bellamy sure as hell didn’t need to be told twice. He bent forward and pressed his mouth down onto Clarke’s, kissing his _wife_ for the first time. Kissing her as her _husband_. The first of what would be many kisses in their marriage. Everyone cheered and clapped for them, but for a few seconds, it was as if they just faded away, and it was just him and Clarke, just _their_ moment.

He felt so damn happy. When he pulled back from the kiss, she had the biggest, brightest smile on her face he’d ever seen. When they turned to face their guests, everyone stood up and applauded them. When they walked back down that makeshift aisle hand-in-hand, he got the sense that neither one of them could quite believe that it had actually finally happened. They were married now. They were _married_.

Afterward, the reception wasn’t anything fancy. Clarke’s mom’s house was the only place big enough to have it without renting out someplace, so they made it work. Out back by the pool was their pretend dance floor, where he and Clarke had their first dance to a song she’d sung for him back in high school, one she still hummed a lot to this day. The songs were mostly upbeat after that, allowing all their friends to make absolute fools of themselves and even affording Jasper the chance to fall in the pool while lunging for the bouquet that Clarke tossed out. It didn’t even matter that only the girls were supposed to try to catch that. He tried and failed epically, and it was actually Raven who caught it instead. Which was much less worrisome to him than Octavia.

After Jasper dried off, they moved inside to crowd around the dining room table and listen to various toasts to them and for them. Miller’s was short and to the point, but still meaningful since he talked about how he’d always known they were meant to end up together. Raven’s was a bit more wordy, but it essentially had the same message, and it was good, too. Of course, Abby couldn’t let them start dinner without getting a toast of her own in, and then Jake had to give one, too. Finally, Kane spoke up as the voice of reason and said they had to start eating before all the food the caterer had prepared got cold.

As excited as he’d been about the meal, Bellamy didn’t even really pay much attention to it. He sat next to his bride, spending more time just watching her than he did actually eating. As nice as it was to be here surrounded by everyone, he also couldn’t wait until they headed back home and had time alone again.

Murphy was responsible for taking pictures, and he took a lot of them, plus some videos. He got videos of Clarke and Bellamy opening a few gifts, most of which were lingerie from her bridesmaids. They apologized for only getting her a gift and not him, but he assured them that those outfits were a gift for him, too. Seeing Clarke dressed up like that . . . just the thought made his mouth water.

By 9:00 that night, Avery was getting fussy. She’d held up pretty well that whole day, but clearly she was ready to go home and get in her crib, and Bellamy used that as an escape route. It wasn’t him deciding that it was time to go; it was the baby. He and Clarke were just at her mercy. No one really questioned it, even though they had to know he was just making an excuse so he and Clarke could go home and get it on. But hell, it was their _wedding night_. That was what they were supposed to do.

Avery was a good baby. She got fed and fell asleep right when they put her in her crib. Bellamy figured they had at least four hours until she woke up again, but probably even more. There was a lot of newlywed fun to be had in that time, so he and Clarke went into their bedroom and undressed each other. Off came his tie, his belt, his whole suit, and off came her beautiful, flowing dress. When it was just her skin and his skin, he couldn’t feel enough of her at once.

It didn’t matter that they’d just slept together last night. Because this felt different.

After they were done, they lay side by side, both breathing heavily as they stared up at the ceiling. Bellamy could barely form a coherent thought, but somehow, Clarke managed to speak.

“So,” she said, “that was married sex, huh?”

“Yep.” He’d had so much sex with Clarke as his girlfriend, but now . . . _now_ . . . it was just more. Even though he felt completely spent, he didn’t want to fall asleep so early on their wedding night of all nights, so he looked over at her and asked, “You wanna do it again?”

She smiled at him, still catching her breath, nodded dazedly, and said, “Uh-huh,” already climbing back on top of him.

_That’s my girl_ , he thought, kissing her hungrily. _That’s my wife._


	82. Chapter 82

_Chapter 82_

In contrast to the day before, Clarke awoke and felt a warm body beside her. Bellamy’s warm body, lying on his side and facing her. He was snoring lightly, so she rubbed her legs and feet against his to ease him in to waking up. Only five minutes before the alarm went off. Not bad.

“Hey,” he said when he opened his eyes.

“Hey.” God, he was so cute with his messy bed-head and sleepy smile.

“How’s my wife?” he asked.

“Good. Happy.” Like him, she was really eager to use his new relationship title as much as she could, so she returned his question with one of her own: “How’s my husband?”

Draping one arm over her hips, he pulled her closer and said, “I’m happy, too.” Then he kissed her, the soft, sweet good-morning type of kiss. The kind that could quickly escalate into something more if they allowed it to.

“No, we have to get up,” she said, pushing gently against his chest.

“Why?” he protested.

“Because we have a flight to catch.” As much as she would have loved to start off their day with a little newlywed sex, they had to get up.

“Oh, right, our honeymoon,” he said. “We’ll continue this later then.”

“Yes, we will.” She gave him another quick peck on the lips, but that turned into a couple more kisses, and before she knew it, she was laughing as they both struggled to stop.

It didn’t fully sink in for Clarke that they were leaving on vacation until they got to the airport. They had to check most of their bags, except for Avery’s baby bag, and then they had to stand in a security checkpoint line that seemed like it extended for a mile. Clarke held the baby bag while Bellamy held the baby, and Raven held all their plane tickets while Murphy stood around and complained how his feet were hurting from standing so long.

“We probably should’ve gotten here sooner,” Raven admitted as they slowly shuffled forward in the line.

“Well, we would’ve,” Murphy said, “if Bellamy hadn’t been driving like a grandpa.”

“I had precious cargo,” Bellamy said, patting Avery’s back as she slept against his shoulder.

“So? That doesn’t mean you gotta turn into an elderly man behind the wheel.”

Clarke shook her head, totally getting where Bellamy was coming from with his newfound self-imposed ten-miles-below-the-speed-limit rule. “He doesn’t understand,” she said.

“Nope.” Bellamy kissed the top of Avery’s head, earning him a little, “Aww,” from Raven and a snort from Murphy.

When they finally got up to the front of the line, Clarke sent the baby bag through the scanner with no problems. She, Raven, and Murphy were all able to go through without issue, too, but when Bellamy stood in the scanner with Avery, it went off.

“Come with me,” one of the workers said, motioning for him to follow her.

“I don’t have anything on me,” he insisted.

“Just come with me.”

Looking frustrated, he handed Avery off to Clarke and followed the woman into a small alcove where she proceeded to . . . frisk him. Thoroughly. Told him to hold out his arms and spread his legs, and she moved her security scanner _all_ over. It buzzed loudly, alerting to something around one of his pockets, and he had to empty them for her.

When he was cleared, he walked back over to them with an utterly pissed off look on his face. “Gum wrapper,” he explained, his face drawn tight.

Murphy, of course, had to get a jab in, so he said, “The first sex Bellamy had on his honeymoon was with a TSA agent.”

Clarke had to stifle a laugh. Poor guy. Later on, though, when they were having _actual_ sex, he’d forget all about this.

They arrived at their gate with half an hour to spare, and in that half hour, Clarke just sat there looking at planes outside the window, starting to get scared. Even though everyone always said planes were safer than cars, suddenly all she could think about was every plane crash that had ever been on the news. Or every flight that had strangely vanished. Was she crazy for taking her six week-old baby all the way to California? As if to assure her that she wasn’t, Avery woke up while they were waiting and smiled at her. She took her into the nearest bathroom to change her diaper prior to boarding the plane, and she said some prayers that everything went well on the flight. Traveling with a baby was so much more stressful than just traveling with other adults.

When they got on the plane, she was relieved to see that their seats were . . . decent. Right near the window, just a little in front of the wing.

“Do you see these looks we’re getting?” Bellamy asked her quietly as they squeezed into their row.

“What looks?” she asked.

“Like, ‘Oh, there’s a baby. She’s gonna cry during the whole flight. That’s gonna be annoying.’”

“Oh, who cares?” She was a little concerned about that herself, because she didn’t know how Avery was going to react to the change in air pressure. She’d packed some little baby earplugs for her, though, to help deal with that.

“You want the window seat?” Bellamy asked her.

“Yeah, just in case I gotta give her a boob to suck on.” She stashed the baby bag under the seat in front of her and sat down, opening the window shade to let some light in.

“And if anyone has any problems with _that_ . . .” He trailed off and sat down, still holding Avery.

“Don’t worry, I know my rights.” If she had to feed Avery on the plane, then she’d feed her on the plane. She had a blanket to cover up with, and even if she didn’t cover up, it wasn’t anything anyone had the right to make a big deal out of. “Where are Raven and Murphy?” she asked, trying to get a better look up front.

“Just a couple rows behind first class,” Bellamy answered.

“Huh.” It would have been nice to be able to sit near them, but considering how late they’d purchased these tickets, they were lucky to get seats on the plane at all. “Well, at least we’re not way in the back,” she said. “All that turbulence wouldn’t be good for her.”

Bellamy smirked and said, “There’s only one good kind of turbulence on an airplane.”

She laughed. “What, like the Mile High Club?”

“Yeah.”

She glanced back where the cramped bathrooms were, trying to picture Bellamy even squeezing into one of those. “And are you a member of that club?” she questioned, even though she already figured he was.

“It was a long flight to Europe, alright?” he said.

“Oh my god.” She wasn’t even surprised.

“I can make you a member if you want,” he offered.

“No. I’m not letting Avery out of my sight when we’re up in the air. In fact, give her here.” She held out her hands, and he handed their daughter over. “I wanna put those earplugs in.” She took the small box out of her pocket, opened it up, and let the instructions page fall to the floor, because she didn’t need instructions. It was obvious how the plugs fit in, so she just went ahead and inserted them. Avery didn’t seem to like the feeling at first, because she started to cry a little, but luckily Bellamy was there to save the day when he reached down and seized the purple bunny toy out of her bag. She got distracted by that, trying to reach out and grab it, even though she couldn’t hold onto things yet. He jiggled it around in front of her and made a couple silly sounds, and that calmed her down. Crisis averted.

“Can you believe we’re honeymooning with a baby?” he said.

“Kind of. I mean, we’ve never done things in the right order,” she pointed out. “We had sex before we went on our first date.”

“True.” Leaning close, he lowered his voice and said, “Speaking of sex . . .”

“Just how horny are you?”

“So horny.” He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered in that deep voice of his, “I can’t wait to fuck you so hard tonight.”

She had to shut her eyes for a moment as a pleasurable tingle zipped up her entire body. God, she would have loved to join the Mile High Club with him. Regardless of how tiny and gross those bathrooms had to be, she was feeling the same insatiable urges he was. But parental stuff had to come first, and they both knew that.

Once it was time for takeoff, Clarke’s stomach was rumbling with worry. Bellamy held her hand, though, and before she knew it, they were up in the air with no problem whatsoever. Once up there, the whole plane ride was pretty smooth. The earplugs must have worked wonders, because Avery didn’t cause any commotion. She sat on Clarke’s lap for a while and looked out the window, but she mostly sat on Bellamy’s and slept. Everyone around them seemed really impressed by her behavior, with one woman even remarking, “That is one good baby you got there.”

“The best,” Clarke agreed, reaching over to rub her daughter’s soft little head. Hopefully she’d remain this agreeable throughout the whole honeymoon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although he’d never had a problem with airplanes before, Bellamy was so relieved once they touched down in California. Traveling with an infant, even one as well-behaved as his, was stressful. That whole flight, he’d been so worried that those earplugs would stop working their wonders, and she’d start crying and being in pain way up there in the air. But she’d rested the majority of the way there, and when they got off the plane, her eyes opened up wide to take in the business of LAX. So many people, all of them going somewhere. Luckily, it wouldn’t take them long to get to their destination, Long Beach. A half an hour in an Uber. No big deal.

California was nothing new to him. After all, he’d lived out there for a while once he’d dropped out of UCF. But he’d been so busy scraping by, trying to make ends meet as a waiter, that he hadn’t really gotten to appreciate the state from a vacationer’s perspective. But now that he was just there to relax and have a good time, everything looked different. Brighter. More vibrant. As they cruised down the highway, he pointed out the palm trees to Clarke, who had never been out to the west coast before. She looked so happy to be there.

Bellamy had no idea what hotel they were even staying in. Raven and Murphy had taken care of all the purchases for them and wanted it to be a surprise. Every time they passed by a Super 8 or Motel 6 or Days Inn, he crossed his fingers and inwardly prayed that that wasn’t where they’d be staying. During his first few weeks in California, he’d practically lived in a run-down Motel 6, and he had no desire to ever stay in one again. Thankfully, they drove right past all of those and ended up somewhere much nicer, a Marriott hotel. There were people at the door to greet them who took their luggage and brought it inside for them.

“Alright. So far I’m liking California,” Clarke declared. “Nice weather. Nice vibe. Nice hotel.”

“Yeah. _Really_ nice hotel,” he agreed, hoisting Avery’s carrier out of the Uber. Leaning in, he spoke quietly into her ear when he added, “Good thing, too, ‘cause we’re barely gonna leave.”

“We’re gonna do stuff,” she insisted.

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Each other.”

She blushed, not exactly denying that.

After getting checked in and bringing their bags up to their rooms, they went back downstairs to have lunch at the hotel’s restaurant. It was overpriced, of course, but after only getting pretzels on the airplane, it hit the spot. Bellamy felt fueled up with some food in his system, ready for . . . certain honeymoon activities.

Of course, having Avery there made things a little tougher. Originally, this had just been Murphy and Raven’s summer vacation, and he wanted them to have time to enjoy themselves, too. So while they headed down to the pool, he and Clarke went up to their room and did parental duties. Diaper-changing. Playtime. Feeding. The usual. They had a couch in their room, so they made out there for a while, and even though Bellamy wasn’t opposed to doing it with Avery in the room, Clarke was vehemently against it. No sex until Murphy and Raven were taking care of the baby. That was her rule, so he had to follow it.

Murphy and Raven didn’t get back from that damn pool until late afternoon. Once they did, though, they took Avery to their room, along with her portable crib and some toys and her whole baby bag. Clarke made sure to quiz them on what to do if she started choking, or wheezing, or crying, or basically doing anything out of the ordinary, but Bellamy trusted their friends. So he dragged Clarke back down to the end of the hall, where their room was located, and started taking her clothes off before they’d even made it through the door.

Once they started having sex, they didn’t stop for . . . a while. He would have loved to see how long they could keep going at it, but he knew they had a few hours, max. So they had to make the most of it. He really tried to use every bit of time they had, so in between fucks, while he was recovering and getting hard again, he teased her by kissing her neck or her stomach, or touching her pussy. His goal was for her to stay constantly turned on.

Unfortunately, packing so much sex into a short amount of time left him feeling . . . pretty tired. Not so tired that he had to stop, but just tired enough to need some more fuel in the metaphorical tank. He didn’t want to go back down to the restaurant, though, nor did he even want to leave the room and go get something out of the vending machine at the other end of the hall, so he ordered room service instead. Just a huge piece of chocolate cake. He figured the sugar rush would keep him going.

Clarke had to go get the door when the room service guy came by, because he was busy stroking his cock to get it hard again. It was fun to see her legs shake as she got out of bed and threw on the bathrobe the hotel had provided, and even more fun to watch her stagger to the door. She had to stagger back, too, to get some cash, since it was customary to tip. He was definitely giving her a good workout, and it was funny to watch her feel the after effects of everything he was giving her.

When she came back to the bed with his chocolate cake in hand, he stopped what he was doing beneath the covers to take it from her and dig right in. “You sure you don’t want some?” he asked her.

“No, I’m good,” she said. “You’ve been feeding me really well.”

He smirked, still on a high from the two blow-jobs she’d given him. Damn, his girl knew how to suck him off so well.

“It’s really nice of Raven and Murphy to spend some of their vacation playing babysitter,” she said, discarding the bathrobe again. “We should probably go get her in about an hour, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” That gave him enough time to get her into the shower and do her there, too. It wasn’t actually as nice or spacious as their shower back home, but it would do.

Settling back in beside him underneath the covers, Clarke reached over and swiped a dollop of frosting off his cake, licking it off her finger. “I bet Avery’s playing with her purple bunny right now,” she said. “She loves that thing.”

“What do you bet Murphy’s playing with her?” he said.

“You don’t think he’s out and about filming?”

“Nah, he loves that purple bunny, too.” Bellamy took as big of a bite as he could, eager to get that sugar in his system so he could . . . perform energetically again.

“Did you ever watch his film about us?” Clarke asked him suddenly.

“You mean _Constant_?” He shook his head. “No, not the whole thing. Did you?”

“No, not yet,” she replied. “We should watch it together sometime.”

“Sure.” He set what remained of the cake aside on the end table and curled his arms around her. “Not right now, though. ‘cause . . . there’s other stuff we need to do.” He grinned, lowering his lips to hers, and kissed her hungrily, enjoying the taste of her lips more than he had the taste of his dessert. “You wanna go again, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She coiled her legs around him, managing to pull him on top of her, and kissed him a few more times before saying in one rush of breath, “I want you to go down on me.”

He leaned back, giving her a curious look, no longer used to hearing her ask for that. “How far down?”

She smiled. “You know how far.”

His cock twitched, even though it wasn’t going to get in on the action. Just the thought of it, though, made his mouth water. “You sure?” he asked, trying not to jump the gun. “‘cause I don’t wanna rush you if you’re still feeling . . .”

“ _Bellamy_!” she growled impatiently.

“Okay, I’m goin’.” He slithered on down the bed, getting himself positioned with his face between her legs. She spread them open, hesitantly at first, and then with less embarrassment, and lifted her hips up as if to indicate she wanted something underneath them. He reached over and grabbed a pillow that had almost fallen off the bad and put it underneath her ass, elevating her pussy to the perfect height for him to just . . . go right in on her.

“Do it,” she encouraged him.

After months of _not_ doing this, he didn’t need any more convincing. Finally, _finally_ , Clarke was letting him eat her out again after a whole lot of insecurity about him getting up close and personal down there post-birth. He didn’t care about that, though. Yeah, he’d seen a baby come out of there. So what? It still looked the same to him, and he was sure it’d taste as good as ever.

He started out slow, just giving her a few light, tender kisses on her lower lips to see how she responded. It made her quiver and tense up a bit, but she quickly relaxed again and moaned happily. So his next kiss was more forceful, more passionate. The kind that smeared her fluids—remnants of the three orgasms he’d already given her—all over his face. He kissed her loudly, making all sorts of smacking noises, and inhaled the intoxicating scent of her, hoping she could sense by his fervor just how much he loved doing this.

Ultimately, the need to taste her was just too great to hold off on for too long, so his tongue didn’t stay inside his mouth for long. He stated out just by letting it dart out to poke at her entrance, but when he started licking her up and down with long, flat strokes, that was when she moaned and gripped the bedsheets tighter.

“Yeah,” she whispered, inhaling sharply when he licked all the way up to her clit. He teased the small bundle of nerves before repeating the same motion all over again. He made sure that she could feel his facial hair rubbing against her with every move his head made, because he knew she loved that feeling.

“Oh, Bellamy.”

God, he never got tired of hearing her say his name, all breathless and overcome with passion like that. If his face wasn’t buried in her pussy, he might have said something, too, but instead, he just breathed hotly onto her before switching it up and going back to more of a pointed tongue technique. He found her opening and tried to shove it in as far as it would go, so he could taste her as fully as possible. The sounds it made were so . . . fucking filthy. And he loved it.

Usually, Clarke liked to just lie there and let him get her off, but maybe because he hadn’t gone down on her for such a long time now, she seemed to know exactly what she wanted and needed to get off; because she tangled one hand in his hair, holding his head in place, and started to grind herself down against his mouth, rolling her hips towards his face, swirling her pussy all around his tongue. He kept his tongue out to give her that stimulation she sought, but other than that, he didn’t do much. She took control, basically fucking his face, whimpering desperately as she got closer and closer to losing it.

_Do it, Clarke_. He wanted to encourage her, but since he couldn’t say anything, he just thought it.

She pressed her hips to his mouth hard when she came, raising them completely off the pillow, and he drank her down, careful not to spill a drop. She was like a drug to him. He wanted more even when it was all gone.

When she put her hips back down on the pillow, she also removed her hand from his hair and just sprawled out as she came back down from her orgasm. “Oh my god,” she said, smiling dazedly, eyes shut.

He loved seeing her like this, knowing he was the one to satisfy her. And he appreciated that, even though she looked like she could just fall right asleep now, she’d still get up and get in that shower with him.

As he climbed back up her body, dragging his lips across her skin, she wrapped her legs around him and cupped his face in both of her hands. “Mmm,” she murmured before kissing him, “you’re such a good husband.”

_Good_ , he thought as he kissed her back. That was what he wanted to be.

****

_Bellamy practically held his breath as Gina looked through his essay for him. She made some marks with her red pen, but just punctuation and capitalization and all that shit. It didn’t look like anything major. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up and let himself believe that he’d nailed this essay on his first attempt. Because that had never happened before._

_“Hmm,” she said, a contemplative look on her face as she set his paper down. “Not bad, Bellamy. Not bad.”_

_“Really?” He hoped that meant he didn’t have to rewrite anything, because writing it once was already more than enough._

_“Yeah. I mean, you’ve got some spelling and grammar stuff to fix up, but I marked everything I saw,” she said. “Your ideas are good, though. And it’s pretty decently-organized, so you’re getting your point across. I’m impressed.”_

_He wasn’t used to impressing anyone academically, so he wasn’t even sure how to react. “I worked on it all last night,” he told her. “Finished up a couple hours before practice this morning.”_

_“No wonder you look so tired then,” she said. “Not that you look bad, though. You don’t look bad.” She got quiet when she said that last part and even looked away for a second. But she didn’t have to be embarrassed. Harmless flirting was . . . well, harmless. They were friends._

_“Did you end up going to the game?” he asked her._

_“No, I couldn’t. I watched it on TV, though.”_

_He kind of wished his mom and Octavia had just stayed home and done that same thing. He couldn’t help but feel like they’d wasted their time and money flying down there to watch him do nothing. They’d made a whole weekend out of it, of course, spent some time together, but the game had been pointless for them to attend, because even though they’d won, they’d never gotten far enough ahead for Coach Lightbourne to consider putting him and some of the other backups in. “I just stood on the sideline the whole time,” he lamented. “I’m not used to that.”_

_“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to play,” she assured him. “You’re a good player. And unlike our current quarterback, you’re also a good guy.”_

_As much as he appreciated the compliment, he wasn’t sure how much he believed it. Sure, he was better than Brady because he didn’t treat girls like trash and was determined to actually earn his way through college. But ever since he’d gotten to Florida and started this whole new chapter of his life . . . he couldn’t explain why, but he just hadn’t felt very good at all._

****

It was easy to just get lost in Clarke’s beautiful blue eyes, to look at her and feel like he couldn’t look away. Bellamy didn’t realize he was doing that, however, until she laughed a little and said, “What?”

“I just . . .” He wasn’t used to being at a loss for words, but lying there in bed with her, even though the bed wasn’t their own . . . he just felt so damn _close_ to her, and he wanted it to always feel this way. “I meant what I said in my vows about being the best husband I can be,” he said to her. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, rubbing his arms. “I know. And guess what?” She lifted her head up, pressed a kiss to his ear, and whispered, “You’re off to a good start.”

He smiled. Yeah, he was, wasn’t he? It felt good to be her husband and to have her as his wife. It felt good to be on this honeymoon with her right now, because it just felt so damn good to finally be married. There had never been anyone else for him but Clarke Griffin. She was definitely the one.


	83. Chapter 83

_Chapter 83_

Although it was hot on the west coast, it wasn’t so unbearable that going to the beach felt like a chore. Clarke wanted to go hang out on the beach and enjoy the beautiful west coast weather, but shade was a necessity. Not only because she was fair-skin and burned easily herself, but because she couldn’t risk Avery getting burnt. She was too young for sunscreen, so that meant they had to have a beach umbrella to sit under, and Clarke had to dress her in clothing that would shield her from the elements without making her too hot. She put a brimmed hat on her, too, to help protect her face, and she told Bellamy that they couldn’t stay out there with her too long. Nothing like three hours or anything.

Although they kept her under the umbrella for the most part, Bellamy did want to take her in the ocean with him. (“My little mermaid,” he called her.) She was obviously too little for any swimming, but she wasn’t too little to have just her feet in the water. So Bellamy held her up while she experienced the ocean waves lapping at her toes for the first time. Her legs weren’t entirely straightened out yet—most of the time she kept them curled up close to her body—but he lifted her up and down, dunking her feet in, and she didn’t start crying or anything. She liked it.

Clarke could have lain up on her beach towel under that umbrella all day watching them. Raven lay next to her, rocking a bikini that Clarke wouldn’t have tried to pull off even before having a baby. But Raven had the abs for it, and Murphy couldn’t seem to get enough of her in it. He lay beside her, almost falling asleep, it seemed, as his fingers traced light designs on her exposed stomach. Eventually, he stretched, sat up, and said, “Alright, enough of this lazy shit. I gotta go film.”

“Right now?” Raven asked.

“Yeah. I got sponsors who want videos up by the end of the week.” He gave her a kiss, grabbed his phone, and got up, walking down the beach as he began to vlog.

“Okay,” Raven said, grinning at Clarke excitedly, “now that it’s just us girls . . .”

Clarke looked out at Bellamy, appreciating how bronzed he looked in such bright sunlight. “Oh my god, Raven, it was _so_ good last night,” she raved. “I felt like I was levitating.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Part of her _still_ felt like she was levitating, like she wasn’t _really_ lounging on that beach towel because she was floating four feet off the ground. “I’ll tell you what, marriage has really revitalized our sex lives,” she said, happy that she’d started to feel so horny again. “Not that it was ever _bad_ or anything. I’m just not all uncertain anymore.” She put her hand on top of her stomach, smoothing it over the material of her blue one-piece swimsuit. “I mean, my body’s not back, but it’s back-ish. And my man’s not complaining. So now that I’m more confident, I just want it, like, all the time.”

“That’s why you’re having a honeymoon,” Raven said. “Because when you go back home . . .”

“Real life starts up again, I know.” Summer would wind down rapidly since school started so soon these days. Bellamy’s coaching schedule would get busier and more hectic, especially once games started up, and hopefully she’d have some work of her own to occupy her time, whether it be guitar lessons, piano lessons, or vocal ones. “I don’t even wanna think about that,” she decided, tossing her head back, breathing in the salty air. “I just wanna lay here and relax.”

Unfortunately, Bellamy cut into her relaxation abruptly when he yelled to her, “Hey, we got a problem!”

“What?” she shrieked, sitting straight up. Her immediate fear was that something was wrong with Avery, that some ocean creature was nibbling at her or something. But she was just trying to kick her feet around in the water while he held her up.

“She likes this ocean better than the one back home,” Bellamy told her.

Clarke felt like throwing the whole beach umbrella at him for freaking her out like that. “Bellamy!” she yelped. “Don’t say stuff like that! I thought something was wrong!”

“Sorry,” he apologized, lifting Avery up out of the water again. He held her up high, moving her around like an airplane, and her little hat fell off, but he immediately bent down to pick it up and put it back on her.

“God, look at him,” she said, starting to salivate. “Look at his shoulders. His arms. His butt.”

Raven laughed and said, “I’ll leave that to you,” as she rolled over onto her stomach. Clarke stayed sitting, though, so she could have a good look at her little family. It was a mix of emotions, all of them good, as she watched them play together, because on the one hand, she was swept up in the adorableness of her beautiful daughter. But on the other hand . . . it was hard not to stare at her sexy as fuck husband.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Honeymoons weren’t _all_ about sex. They could be, of course, for some couples, and for Bellamy and Clarke, theirs may have been if they hadn’t had a child to think about. Plus, there was Murphy and Raven, and they knew they couldn’t ask them to be babysitters the _entire_ time they were on vacation. So they went out and about with them, trying to pack in as many experiences and activities to their week, too. Like the Queen Mary. It was docked right there in Long Beach, and every vacation website said it was a must-see attraction, probably the biggest and most popular one. So they took a tour of it and even ate there. Clarke was mostly into the artistry of the old ship, seeing the way everything had been constructed and decorated. Murphy was bored out of his mind. Raven and Bellamy were sort of into it, though, because the tour included plenty of factual information about the ship. Apparently it’d been a luxury passenger liner before becoming a World War II ship, and then afterward, it’d been a luxury liner again until the 1960s. It was sort of fun to see Bellamy geek out about the history aspect of it all, but he tried to downplay it, of course, and reminded them all that history was the only school subject he’d ever actually had a genuine interest in.

Since the area was a lively tourist area, there were other things they did, too, like going to see a performing arts show. Clarke felt like she was the only one who was actually into that, but to his credit, Bellamy acted like he was. The aquarium was something they all enjoyed, especially Avery, who seemed mesmerized by all the blue water and animals in the tanks, even though she didn’t yet know what she was even seeing. She had this look of wonder on her face whenever they held her up to the glass to see what was inside, and a few curious fish swam right up to her.

There was designated guy-time and girl-time, too, with Bellamy and Murphy going golfing together and Raven and Clarke going shopping. Clarke picked up some souvenirs for her parents, and Raven found gifts for her dad and Harper. When they got back from their shopping excursion, they heard all about the boys’ competitive golf game. Bellamy had won, of course, being the natural athlete that he was, but Murphy insisted that he’d kept the score, close. Bellamy insisted that he’d cheated.

With a name like Long Beach, they obviously had to spend more time out on the beach, too. It had to all be very limited for Bellamy and Clarke because of Avery, but as long as they kept her shaded at almost all times, it seemed like she was doing okay. She slept a lot, which Clarke could relate to. For as much fun as she was having, it was also very tiring. She hadn’t been so _busy_ in a long time. At home, she had her routines with her daughter, but here, they were always doing something or going somewhere. There was even one night where she fell asleep before she and Bellamy could have sex. She’d felt sort of guilty about it at first, but he assured her it was fine, and that he’d fallen asleep quickly that night, too.

Of course, spending quality time with each other was still the biggest priority for both Bellamy and Clarke, so when they were strolling along the boardwalk with Raven and Murphy and Raven announced, “We’re gonna head back to the hotel for a while. You want us to take the baby?” they were eager to take her up on that offer.

“Um . . . sure,” Clarke said, handing over the stroller they’d rented earlier in the week. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Raven said. “We’re just gonna nap. She can nap with us.”

The smirk on Murphy’s face made it seem like they were going to do a little more than napping, but Clarke didn’t say anything about it.

After they’d left and it was just her and Bellamy walking along together, hands linked, she said, “We’ve got good friends.”

“Yeah, we do,” he agreed.

They fell silent for a moment, the comfortable kind of silence that you could only have with someone you were madly in love with, and Clarke took in their surroundings. It was absolutely _beautiful_ out in California. Sure, it was hot, but it was totally manageable out there on the coast. It hadn’t been cloudy or gloomy for one single day of their vacation, which was definitely a difference from the weather back home. The sun had shone every single day, coating everything in a warm, golden glow.

“Did you make friends in Canada?” she asked him as they strolled. “And Mexico and Italy?” It was still surreal to her to imagine living in so many different countries, but he’d done it.

“Friends with benefits,” he admitted.

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes, not surprised.

He chuckled and said, “Nah, I had people I’d hang out with. It wasn’t like this, though.”

She got that. Even though she and Raven had been friends since high school, and even though she’d made a friend for life when she’d gotten assigned to be roommates with Harper freshman year, having Bellamy back just made things feel . . . complete again. Whole. The way it was meant to be. “You’re my best friend,” she told him, even though that wasn’t news to him.

“You’re mine, too,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back of it, and somehow, that little gesture just made her heart melt.

They stopped when a man’s loud voice rang out, “Ah, lovely couple.” He sat at an easel on the boardwalk, but he stood up when he saw them. “What brings you to Long Beach?”

“Oh, we’re on our honeymoon, actually,” Clarke said, smiling.

“Really? Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” They had basically told everyone, from the front desk people at the hotel to every single waiter or waitress at any restaurant they’d visited. Partly because they were excited about it and wanted everyone to know, and partly because a lot of places offered newlywed discounts for things.

“You know what you need?” the man said eagerly. “A souvenir drawing, one of a kind.” He motioned to his setup, and Clarke noticed that he had a few sample drawings on display. They were all cartoonish, with super big heads and unrealistic faces, but they were well-done. She looked at Bellamy and shrugged, figuring . . . why not?

They sat in front of the man after that, whose name was Jose, and made conversation with him while he worked away on his version of their portrait. Jose was super friendly, probably because he met a lot of people sitting out there and was used to talking while he worked. He was very interested in them, their whole story, and when he found out Clarke was an artist herself, he wanted to know more.

“So do you paint?” he asked. “Or draw? What do you do?”

“Mostly drawing,” she said, “but some painting once in a while, too. I suck at caricature/cartoon stuff, though. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Just comes naturally,” he said.

Bellamy grunted and said, “Art never came naturally to me.”

“No. But sports did.” That was definitely something that had never come naturally to _her_.

“What do you play?” Jose asked.

“Well, I used to play football,” Bellamy answered.

“Now he coaches it,” Clarke added proudly. He was a good coach, just like he was a good husband and a good father. Just a good guy all around. She was so lucky.

“You two high school sweethearts or something?” Jose questioned with a knowing smile on his face.

“Yeah.” She rested her head against Bellamy’s shoulder for a moment, then sat up straighter again since they had to keep the same relative pose for this drawing. “How’d you guess?”

“I draw dozens of couples every day,” Jose said. “By now, I just get a vibe. How long you been together then?”

“Um, well . . .” She knew Jose was probably expecting to hear something like six or seven or maybe even eight years, but that just wasn’t the way it’d gone for them. “We took a break for a while after he graduated.”

“But now we’re back together,” Bellamy said.

“Obviously.” They were more _together_ than they’d ever been, and she was loving it.

“Wow,” Jose said, “that sounds like fate or something.”

“It is,” Clarke said. She’d never really believed in fate until Bellamy had come back into her life. But now, how could she not?

“You break up, realize you can’t live without each other, and then get back together,” Jose said. “Straight out of a movie. Did you guys know you were gonna end up back together?”

Bellamy looked at her and admitted, “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t, either,” she said. In fact, there had been a long period of time where she hadn’t even let herself consider the possibility.

****

_As students filtered into the gym, Clarke watched the cheerleaders dance to the music the pep band was playing. They weren’t hard dances, just two eight-counts of music that were repeated over and over again. Clarke knew them all by heart, could do them in her sleep. It felt weird not to be out there with them. She’d never seen a pep rally from the crowd’s vantage point before._

 _Beside her, Jasper was most definitely_ not _peppy. “This looks like it’s gonna be lame,” he mumbled._

Maybe, _Clarke thought. She sympathized with the cheerleaders, because she knew how hard it was to plan pep rallies. They had only a few minutes to perform their routine, do a few cheers, do an activity with the athletes, and let the coaches and captains speak. Sometimes people complained if they were boring, but hardly anyone ever complimented them when they were good. Being a cheerleader was really sort of a thankless job in high school. But usually, the pep rallies were neither amazing nor dreadful. They were just an excuse to get out of class for fifteen minutes at some point during the day. And the football ones were typically pretty good. Because . . . well, the football team was good. Or at least . . . they had been. But there was no telling what this year would be like. No one had the same high hopes for the season that they’d had back when there had been a star quarterback._

_All it took was thinking about him, just once, and there it was again: That blanket feeling of sadness that she’d grown so accustomed to. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that her name had been brought up in meetings by the teachers. They were probably concerned about her, because she was quieter so far this year, more distant, not as involved. All warning signs of something bigger, they would think. But she wasn’t depressed or anything. She just missed Bellamy Blake. Which was part of the reason why she hadn’t even wanted to come sit at this pep rally today in the first place. The whole time, she’d be remembering what it had been like to be out there dancing, able to lock eyes with him as he watched her. And getting to stand there while he took the microphone and addressed the whole student body, pumped them all up for a game that he must have known he was going to win._

_“Hey, Clarke!” an annoying voice yelled at her over the band’s music. She made the mistake of looking to her right, where, seated a few people down, was Dax, along with a few of his friends. They were all wearing their dark green jerseys since this pep rally was for them. “Why aren’t you out there?” he asked her tauntingly._

_She looked away, trying to ignore him, but he didn’t let up._

_“Come on, I wanna watch you move.”_

Don’t pay him any attention, _she told herself, but that was easier said than done when she could hear him and the other guys laughing. School had only been back in session a few weeks, and already, they were driving her crazy._

_“Why_ aren’t _you out there?” Jasper asked her._

_“I quit,” she answered simply._

_“Yeah, but why?”_

_She wasn’t about to elaborate, so she said, “Maybe I just don’t feel like cheering for guys like him,” and left it at that._

_Finally, the pep rally started to begin. The band’s switch to the school song signaled everyone to stand up and clap along while the cheerleaders danced. Clarke watched Raven, envious of that huge smile she was able to have on her face. It didn’t look forced or fake. She loved what she was doing, even though her boyfriend wasn’t there anymore, either. At least he was still her boyfriend, though._

_It was definitely a different pep rally. Mostly because, after the coach spoke about the team, he tried to hand the microphone off to his new quarterback. But the new quarterback didn’t want to say anything, and neither did anyone else on the team. So the whole even sort of just ended with a whimper. Everyone was dismissed back to class, and that was that. Clarke made sure to tell Raven and a few of the other cheerleaders that they’d done a good job, but Raven said she already knew that she was going to hear a lot of complaints about this particular pep rally._

_Later that day, feeling no peppier than she had when she’d woken up that morning, Clarke struggled through her one challenging class: woodworking. Everything else was going smoothly, but she was dangerously close to having a B in that one, and she didn’t want to lose her 4.0._

_“Dammit!” she swore when the piece of wood she was trying to cut snapped in half under the machine she was using. She trudged back to her table, tossing the useless pieces of wood aside, and tried to calm herself down so she could start again. Everyone else’s projects were well underway, and she felt like she was falling behind. A few of the guys—because they were_ all _guys in that class—had offered to help her, but she wanted to do it by herself._

_When she looked over at the teacher’s desk, she noticed one guy who wasn’t supposed to be in the class. With the constant stream of noise from all the different machines in there, she hadn’t even heard Wells come in. But there he was, saying something to Mr. Hamilton, handing over the little yellow hallway pass that indicated he had permission to be there. Mr. Hamilton took the pass from him and nodded, and Wells then headed over towards her. “Hey, Clarke.” he said._

_She was too stressed to even say hey back. “What’re you doing in here?” she asked._

_“Funny,” he said, looking around, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”_

_She knew he didn’t mean it as a sexist thing. He just knew her and knew that she had no interest in any of this. “It was either this or child development,” she muttered, picking up the pieces of wood again._

_“And you chose this?”_

_Yeah, she had. But he wouldn’t understand why. And she didn’t_ want _him to understand._

_“Nice birdhouse,” he said, motioning to her failure of a project._

_“It’s a napkin holder,” she informed him._

_“Oh.” He tilted his head to the side, trying to be nice when he said, “Yeah, I see it.”_

_No, he didn’t, because she didn’t, either. She was going to have to break down and ask one of those other guys for help, because she just wasn’t as good at this as she would have liked to have been. “Is there something you need, Wells?” she asked, not even bothering to hide her impatience._

_“Yeah, I, uh . . . I wanted to run an idea by you,” he said._

_“The answer’s probably no.” Knowing Wells Jaha, he had some big social justice project up his sleeve. Last year, it’d been diversity training for all the teachers. This year, it was probably something even bigger._

_“Two words,” he said, an excited look on his face. “Quiz Bowl.”_

_She made a face. “The answer’s definitely no.” The last thing she wanted to do was go out and get involved in something again right after quitting cheer._

_“Just hear me out. We’ve finally got some funding,” he said. “Mr. Randolph’s sponsoring it now, so it won’t be a joke like it was freshman year. We can actually be competitive. If we get the right people on the team.”_

_And he thought she was one of the right people? Just because she studied and did well in her classes? “Ask Raven,” she suggested. “She’s a lot smarter than me.”_

_“She said it’d conflict with cheer. But from what I saw at the pep rally, you’re not doing cheer anymore, so . . .” He trailed off._

_Yeah, she had some time on her hands, but that didn’t mean she was looking to fill it up with anything. She was getting really good at going home and spending her entire evening just drawing or playing her guitar, spending time alone. “I don’t think so,” she said._

_“Come on, Clarke,” he urged. “You’d really be an asset for the team.”_

_“I’m not that smart,” she insisted._

_“Yes, you are.”_

_“No, really . . . I’m not.” How smart could she have possibly been? Smart girls made their boyfriends wear condoms all the time. She, in contrast, had been an idiot. “Look, I appreciate you asking, but . . . I don’t really wanna do anything this year. At all,” she said. “I just wanna go to class and go home and . . . that’s it.”_

_Wells sighed disappointedly, but thankfully, he didn’t press the issue any further. “Alright,” he said. “Let me know if you change your mind.”_

_As he left, she tried to redirect her attention back to her stupid, broken napkin holder, but now she had other things on her mind. Quiz Bowl? Sure, she could probably help out with art questions, and some history, and probably plenty of science and math, too. But they’d do fine without her. And she’d be fine on her own this year. Maybe she’d still be sad, and maybe people would start to get tired of it, but . . . she’d be fine._

****

Clarke intertwined her fingers with her husband’s and said, “I was miserable without you. Not like all the time, you know. But I think I spent five years just not being truly happy.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit regretful. “Same.”

It wasn’t fun to think that they’d missed out on five years they could have spent together, but there was no changing it now. And this _fate_ that Jose had mentioned had still found a way to work its magic.

“Well, you’re back together now, and that’s what matters,” Jose said. “So what’s next then? You guys gonna have any kids?”

Clarke exchanged a quick look with Bellamy, who seemed more than happy to let her answer that one. “Well, actually . . .”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite being such a good baby—best baby ever, in fact—Avery still had her moments. Moments in the night where she would wake them up crying. It was her only way to communicate for the time being, so Clarke tried her best to be patient. But it did get tiring. She wasn’t sure how single moms did it. Thankfully, she had someone to help.

“Didn’t I just feed her, like, an hour ago?” she said groggily as Bellamy brought Avery to their bed.

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s hungry,” he said, “just . . .”

“Fussy?” she guessed, deciding not to sit up and pull her top up. There was no way Avery was hungry again already. 

“I think she knows she’s not at home in her own nursery,” Bellamy said, carefully lying down with her. She continued to cry, but when he put her on his bare chest and started rubbing her back, the crying almost immediately began to lessen. “Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart,” he whispered comfortingly. “Daddy’s got you.”

Clarke just watched them, amazed by the way he was able to calm her down so quickly. They had a different bond than what she had with Avery, but it was just as strong and special. “I love watching you with her,” she told him. “It’s so . . . heartwarming.”

“Well, I love watching you with her, too,” he said, closing his eyes as he continued to comfort the baby. One of his big hands was enough to completely cover her small back. “When we get home, we gotta get the ball rollin’ on that adoption stuff,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, we will.” She was hoping Kane had been able to his lawyer friends, particularly the family law one, and get some information about how to get the process started. Because the sooner it got started, the sooner it got finished.

“I’ll feel better once it’s all done,” Bellamy said, gently patting Avery’s back as her cries began to fade even more, to the point where Clarke could barely hear her.

Something about the way he said that made her wonder . . . “Do you feel . . . bad? Like right now?” She didn’t want Bellamy to feel bad or worried about anything, especially not something like this. He was Avery’s father, and the adoption was just going to make it legal. More than likely, it’d be a smooth process, and they wouldn’t have any problems.

“No. I’m havin’ a great time,” he assured her.

She was, too, but now she couldn’t help but wonder just how often thoughts of the adoption lingered in his mind, just how many fears he might have had that he wasn’t telling her.

“Just go back to sleep, Clarke,” he said. “I’ll take care of her.”

_I know you will_ , she thought, unable to close her eyes, because she just wanted to keep watching him with her. Avery may have only been six and a half weeks old, but even already, he was one hell of a good dad to her.


	84. Chapter 84

_Chapter 84_

The vacation had gone fast. Out for dinner with the whole group on the last night, Bellamy couldn’t quite believe how fast it had gone. He wouldn’t have minded a few more days away, but at the same time, he was grateful for what they’d had.

“Here we are at the last supper,” Murphy said as he panned his phone around the table. He’d decided to do an impromptu livestream, and apparently hundreds of people were already watching.

“You’re so dramatic,” Raven muttered.

“Here’s my beautiful, brilliant girlfriend,” Murphy said, focusing on Raven. “Who I’m hoping will have some airplane sex with me on the flight home.”

She crushed that dream for him right away when she said, “Not gonna happen.”

“Damn,” he grumbled. Then he resumed showing off everyone at the table, going next to Avery, who was securely nestled in blankets in her carrier, perched on the chair next to Clarke. “And here’s baby Avery,” he said. “Or . . . Bavery.”

“What, what, what?” Clarke squawked in outrage. “No, you’re not calling her that.”

“And Avery’s mom, Clarke, who’s probably really annoyed with me by now,” Murphy said. “And Bellamy, who’s just . . . stroking his beard.”

Bellamy couldn’t suppress a grin as he sat there just feeling the pelt on his face that he was still so damn proud of.

“How’re you two crazy kids doing?” Murphy asked.

“Good,” Clarke replied.

“Tired,” Bellamy added. He and Clarke hadn’t fucked so much since high school.

Murphy snorted and mumbled, “I wonder why.”

“Oh, please, that isn’t _all_ we’ve done,” Clarke said. “We’ve done other stuff, too.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agreed, and then just to be a smartass, he added, “For a couple of minutes.” That earned him a playful whack on the shoulder from his wife, but he just smirked towards the camera, because . . . well, it was the truth, wasn’t it? “I got a question for you, Murphy,” he said, redirecting the conversation to get himself out of trouble.

“What?”

“Being here with me and Clarke,” he said, “feelin’ that whole newlywed vibe . . . does it make you wanna propose to Raven?”

“Hmm.” Murphy rubbed his patchy beard, looked over at his girlfriend, and seemed to think about it. “You know what, now that you mention it . . .” He handed Bellamy the camera and said, “Hold this, will you?” Then he slid out of his seat and bent down on one knee.

“Oh my god, what’re you doing?” Raven gasped, turning pale. Bellamy made sure he could get both of them in the shot, just in case this was the real deal and not just a prank.

Of course it didn’t end up being real, though. Murphy pretended like he was reaching into his back pocket for a ring, but at the last second, he lowered his hands to his shoelaces instead and said, “Just had to tie my shoe.”

“Fuck you,” Raven said. “You’re such an asshole.”

Murphy had a satisfied smirk on his face as he sat down in his chair again. “An asshole you love.”

Raven rolled her eyes, but she didn’t dispute that.

“Oh, man, all these comments . . .” Bellamy said as he read through what everyone was saying in the chat. Things like _DO IT_ and _FINALLY_. “Everyone wishes it was real,” he said.

“Oh, please,” Raven scoffed. “If he proposed to me on a YouTube livestream, I’d kick his ass.”

“It’d make some money, though.” Murphy took his phone back, watched as more comments rolled in, then chuckled and said, “Hey, man, someone asked how you proposed to Clarke.”

“Which time?” Bellamy asked.

“Yeah, there was . . . more than one time,” Clarke said. “But maybe we shouldn’t divulge all of that.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda private,” he agreed. Considering the fact that one proposal had gone horribly wrong and resulted in the worst night of his entire life . . . yeah, he wouldn’t be sharing all of that with the hundreds of viewers he didn’t even know.

“Fair enough,” Murphy said. “Oh, hey, someone else here says they really like the series I did on you two.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” Bellamy said. “We haven’t even watched it yet.”

Murphy gasped in mock outrage, over-dramatically bringing one hand to his chest. “You haven’t?”

“No,” Clarke said. “It’s weird watching yourself in a video.”

“No, it’s not,” Murphy claimed, focusing the camera on her. “I do it all the time.”

“Well, it’s weird for me,” she said. “Like hearing my voice on an answering machine.”

Bellamy didn’t mind watching or hearing himself, but . . . he just wasn’t sure what it would be like to watch that video, knowing that Clarke had been keeping a huge secret from him the whole time they’d been filming it.

“Some of these people want a sequel,” Murphy said.

“A sequel, huh?” Bellamy glanced at Clarke, not quite sure if they were up for that.

“I don’t know,” she said skeptically. “We’ll see.”

Murphy turned the camera back on himself and said, “That’d be a ways down the road, probably, if ever. I got some new stuff lined up for the channel now. Involves this one here.” He panned over to Raven, who barely glanced up from her menu to look at him.

“She looks so enthused,” Clarke remarked sarcastically.

“Tell ‘em what we’re doin’, Raven,” he urged.

She groaned, shaking her head. “Couples reactions. To something.”

“To cringey Tik Toks. To memes. To reality TV compilations. Anything, really,” Murphy elaborated excitedly. “With her smarts and my sarcasm, we can’t go wrong. We’re actually gonna film one later tonight.”

Raven closed her menu, set it down, and folded her hands atop the table. “I feel like I don’t even need to ask, Mrs. Blake,” she said to Clarke, “but what are _you_ gonna be doing tonight?”

Clarke smiled, so fucking obvious, and blushed when she stole a glance at Bellamy. He grinned back, because he knew _exactly_ what they were gonna do. Last night of their honeymoon and all . . . it was kind of a no-brainer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Holding tightly to her husband’s shoulders, Clarke gasped as he thrust his cock up into her. “Oh, god, Bellamy. Oh, god.” His pace was a rapid one, and since she still hadn’t completely come down from her previous orgasm, she was _really_ feeling it. In a good way.

Bellamy was halfway sitting up, leaning back against the headboard, and had his hands on her hips as he pounded her. The sweat on his skin was a clear sign of his exertion, and eventually, he had to stop thrusting just to catch his breath. His hard cock still filled her up, though, still stretched her, and he never stopped moving completely. Even if his pace was slower, he kept sliding in deeper.

Leaning forward, pressing her head to his shoulder, she made a quiet request of him. “Switch it.”

“What?” he said, rubbing her sides. “You want me to be on top?”

“No, just . . .” As much as Bellamy was a missionary master, that wasn’t what she was wanting right now. It was hard to tell him, though, when she felt so breathless. Words were hard to come by in the throes of passion, but she did manage to clarify what she meant when she told him, “Put it somewhere else.” She lifted her hips enough for him to slip out of her, but since it was still hard, it stood straight up against the crack of her ass.

His eyes widened with intrigue, and he reached around to give her cheeks a good squeeze. “You wanna?”

“Yeah.” They’d been a bit messy with the lube earlier, with plenty of it ending up on her ass, so she was choosing to take that as a sign that it was time for him to enter through the backdoor. They hadn’t had anal sex in months, and while she was fine with it being a sporadic thing, she also yearned for it.

Of course, despite how tired he must have been, Bellamy didn’t need much convincing. “Okay,” he said, sliding his cock up and down along the crack of her ass. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the impatient part of her would have loved to just sit right down on him and start bouncing up and down, the logical part knew that she’d need a bit more lubrication. So she reached down in between her legs to gather up some of her own juices and then reached around behind herself to smear it all over her ass.

“Yeah, get it wet,” Bellamy encouraged her.

When she felt like everything was slickened up enough, she told him, “Ready,” and lifted up her hips so the tip of his cock was pressing against her hole. He held it steady while she sank down on top of it. She was always struck by how different it felt to have Bellamy in her ass instead of her pussy. The fullness was mind-blowing, and coupled with the clitoral stimulation he’d undoubtedly give her, it was sensory overload in the best way possible. “Oh . . .” she moaned, closing her eyes, momentarily losing herself in the sensation. It definitely hadn’t felt so good back in high school when they’d first tried it, but nowadays, it just made her feel so _close_ to him.

“Can you take it?” he asked almost teasingly.

“Yeah,” she assured him. “I can take it.” He’d probably start out slow, but if he wanted to get faster, to the point where he was really drilling her, she’d be fine with that, too.

They’d only just started to move when a loud knock on the door interrupted, disrupting everything. “What’s that?” Clarke asked, halting all motion.

“Probably the pizza we ordered half an hour ago,” Bellamy said.

Damn, she’d forgotten all about that. “It hasn’t been half an hour,” she said. “Has it?”

“Yep. Just a minute!” he called. Reluctantly, he slid out of her and moved her to the other side of the bed. “Time flies when you’re having fun fucking.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed but didn’t stand up yet.

“Can I just lay here and keep going?” she asked, reaching down to rub her pussy.

He looked over his shoulder at her and said, “No.”

“No?” She _really_ didn’t care about the pizza anymore, though.

Grinning mischievously, he said, “No, I got a better idea. Come with me,” and grabbed her hand, pulling her up off the bed with him and leading her towards the door.

“What are you doing?” she yelped as the pizza guy knocked on the door again. “We’re not even dressed.”

He went back to the bed, reached underneath, and pulled out one of his shirts, which was more of a dress on her. “Here you go,” he said, putting it over her head for her.

“What about you?” she said, although it wouldn’t surprise her if Bellamy was willing to just answer the door without a stitch of clothing on.

“I’m fine,” he claimed, his voice quieter now as he approached the door. Oddly, though, he stood behind it, and motioned for her to handle it. “Well, go ahead,” he said. “Open the door. Not too far, though.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

Oh, he _definitely_ had something up his sleeve, probably something sexual. “Bellamy.”

“Clarke,” he mimicked.

She had a feeling she knew what he was going to do, but she went ahead and played along anyway. He came in close behind her and grabbed her hips while she unlocked the door, and when her hand was poised on the handle, he lifted the shirt she was wearing up a bit so her ass was completely exposed to him. She didn’t know if he was going to finger her, eat her out, or start fucking her again until she slowly and carefully pulled the door open. Right as she did that, he pressed his cock against her hole, and automatically, she bent forward to allow him entrance. “Mmm!” she moaned a bit too loudly, peering around the door to smile at the delivery guy. “Hi,” she said to him, trying to look and act as natural as possible. As if there wasn’t a huge cock in her ass.

“Hi,” the guy said, holding up a flat box. “I got your pizza.”

“Uh-huh.” She held tightly to the door as Bellamy began to thrust. Not too fast, because that would make their skin slap together. Instead, he rolled his hips against hers gently.

“One medium,” the pizza guy said, reading the receipt taped to the lid of the box, “half pepperoni, half sausage.”

“Great.” The pepperoni had been for Bellamy, the sausage for her. But right now, she only cared about _one_ sausage.

That poor delivery guy had to be wondering why she was acting so strangely, why she refused to open the door all the way and why he could only see her torso. But to his credit, he just kept going about his job. “That’s thirteen bucks,” he said.

“Oh.” It suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t have any cash in hand. And her purse and wallet were not within reach. “Okay,” she said, struggling to keep her whole body from moving forward as Bellamy fucked her. “I have to get money. Just wait here.” She shut the door, slumping forward a bit as her husband pressed his full length into her. “Oh my god, Bellamy,” she whispered, hoping that door was thick enough that the guy outside couldn’t hear her.

“We got this,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her stomach. Somehow, he lifted her up while staying inside her and carried her over to the small table next to the TV, where her purse was halfway unzipped. When he set her back down on her own two feet, he started thrusting again, just not even giving her a break. Not that she wanted one.

“Oh, god,” she gasped, fumbling around for her wallet. “How much did he say it was?”

“Thirteen dollars,” Bellamy answered. “Plus a tip.”

A tip? She wasn’t even about to try to do the math on that right now, so she grabbed a few extra bucks and said, “Okay, take me back over there. Stay in me.” As raunchy as all of this was, she fucking loved it. It was a rush, a thrill, something different.

“Don’t worry, I will,” he assured her, lifting her up again. And indeed, he did. It was a snug, tight fit, after all, and he was very careful.

When it came time to open up the door again, Clarke couldn’t do much to keep her body from rocking. Bellamy had started to move harder and faster, and she wasn’t going to tell him to slow down. She opened the door even less than she had last time and reached out to give the guy his money. “Here you go,” she said. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” He looked at the barely ajar door, clearly confused, and said, “Uh . . .”

“Got it,” she said, reaching for the box. She turned it on its side to slip it inside and quickly said, “Thank you,” while she still had the ability to speak. Then she slammed the door shut, dropped the box on the ground, and let out a loud, “ _Ahh_!” as Bellamy thrust into her so hard that he pressed her whole body into the wall. No longer concerned with being quiet, he fucked her hard, his thighs slapping against her ass cheeks, his low grunts and groans mixing in with her breathless moans and gasps. They could eat the pizza later. For now, this was all that mattered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Morning came all too quickly, and when Clarke awoke, Bellamy was already up and in the shower. Their flight wasn’t super early, but it was still early-ish. With one layover in between, they would probably arrive home in the late afternoon. And the time change was going to be brutal.

Avery was unusually fussy that morning, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel like that was her way of protesting their departure, letting them know she wanted to stay another day. But of course they couldn’t, so they packed everything up, sadly said goodbye to a hotel room that now shared so many good—and plenty of steamy—memories, and met Murphy and Raven downstairs in the lobby to catch a cab to the airport. Once there, surrounded by so many other people, hauling her suitcase (which was fuller now than it had been when she’d arrived, thanks to some souvenirs), Clarke’s mindset shifted, and she then found herself _eager_ to get back home. The airport was loud and hectic, and the airplane was cramped and uncomfortable. Plus, she still mom-panicked at the thought of her baby girl being thirty-some thousand feet up in the air.

Fortunately, Avery had nodded off on Bellamy’s lap by the time they were taxing down the runway, so takeoff would be peaceful. Clarke looked out the window and quietly said, “Bye, California,” as they taxied down the runway.

Bellamy reached over to pick up her hand and give it a loving squeeze. “I had an amazing time,” he told her.

“Me, too.” She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes still aimed towards the window, and let herself feel a little bit sad. Because even though she was eager to get home now, she wouldn’t have said no to an extended stay. “I wish it didn’t have to end,” she admitted, hoping that some of these honeymoon vibes would follow them back home.

****

_Clarke knew her feet were supposed to be moving. She had a class to get to, after all, and probably only thirty seconds left in her passing period. She didn’t have far to go, though, so she’d just . . . stopped. Right there in the middle of the hallway. Clutching her books to her chest, staring at the girl’s bathroom of all things. She’d done her best to avoid that particular bathroom this year, mostly because . . . well, she and Bellamy had fooled around in it last year. She looked at it now and remembered how he’d convinced her to sneak out of study hall one day and meet up with him there. He’d had no qualms about going into the girl’s bathroom, and she’d definitely been more nervous about getting caught than he’d been. But of course Bellamy, being Bellamy, had just grabbed her hand and pulled her right in there, stumbling into the biggest stall and sliding the lock into place. He’d hoisted her up into his arms, hiked her skirt up, and just . . ._

_“Clarke.”_

_She snapped out of it when someone finally said her name. Wells was poking his head out from their classroom, a confused look on his face. “You comin’ to class?” he asked her._

_Part of her was irrationally annoyed that he’d cut into her memory right as she’d been getting to the best part. But then the bell rang, and she started to function again. He held the door open for her as she walked into the room, and she mumbled her thanks before heading to her desk in the back corner of the classroom. At the start of the year, the teacher had tried to seat her in the middle of the room, probably because she was one of the ones he could rely on to pay attention even when surrounded by many other people. But she’d ended up requesting a spot in the back instead because . . . well, she didn’t_ want _to be surrounded by other people this year._

_“Go ahead and take out your notes,” the teacher said after quieting everyone down. “We’ll pick up where we left off yesterday.”_

_Clarke swiftly pulled out her notebook and a pencil while some of the other students struggled to locate the notes they’d taken yesterday. She wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up having to run to the office to make a photocopy of hers to give to them._

_Since she was waiting, and took her phone out of her pocket when it vibrated, assuming she had a text from Raven or something. She opened up her messages and saw she had one message from a number she didn’t recognize, and it was a photo. When she opened it up, her eyes were assaulted by an image she’d never wanted to see: A body part. A certain male body part._

_“Oh, god!” she shrieked, dropping her phone in disgust. It was Dax. Had to be. He’d said something the other day about sending her some dick pics, but she’d been hoping he wouldn’t actually do it._

_Everyone turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden outburst, and the teacher asked, “What’s wrong?”_

_What wasn’t? She hadn’t had one good day at school so far this year, and shit like this wasn’t making her feel any better. “Can I go to the office?” she asked, not willing to accept no for an answer._

_Luckily, the teacher didn’t question anything. He said, “Sure,” and that was that. Clarke picked up her phone and hurried out of the room, feeling quite frazzled. This was it, though, the last straw. She’d dealt with enough of Dax’s crap, and she wasn’t willing to put up with it anymore._

_In her mind, she thought she’d get to the office, tell Principal Sydney about it, and Dax would get suspended or something. But very early on in the conversation, it became apparent to her that that wouldn’t be happening. She whipped out her phone and showed her principal the picture, just so she could see for herself how explicit it was. It wasn’t like Dax had underwear on or anything. Hell, that would have been bad enough. But the principal almost refused to look at it and even said, “I don’t need to see it,” a few times._

_Clarke launched into a full-on rant about how wrong it was, how awful, how violating. There wasn’t any difference between sending someone a picture like that and straight-up flashing them. It was indecent exposure no matter how it had happened. It wasn’t something she’d wanted to see, but that fucking bastard had no respect for her or the boundaries she’d tried to put up with him._

_Unfortunately, it was Clarke who was doing most of the talking. Principal Sydney took out her student handbook and was looking through that while Clarke made one impassioned plea after another for something to be done about this. But all it amounted to was her principal telling her that she would handle the situation. And Clarke wasn’t an idiot; she knew what that meant._

_“What do you mean you’re not gonna do anything?” she roared angrily._

_“I didn’t say that,” Principal Sydney said. “I’ll call his parents, let them know what he sent you. And I’ll make sure all the teachers are on the lookout for any inappropriate behavior.”_

_Well, that just sounded like a slap on the wrist. And that wasn’t good enough. “This_ is _inappropriate behavior right here. It’s already happening!” Clarke yelled. “Ever since this school year started, he’s been harassing me.”_

_“Physically?” the principal asked._

_“No, but . . .” Clarke stopped for a moment, feeling increasingly frustrated. “That’s not the only kind of harassment.”_

_Principal Sydney nodded slowly, pretending to sympathize, and said, “Then I’ll definitely have a word with him.”_

_“A—a_ word?” _Clarke shrieked in outrage. “What’s that gonna do? He’s not gonna stop being an asshole just because you give him a good talking to.”_

_Her principal put away the student handbook and asked, “Did you have any problems with him last year?”_

_“No, because last year . . .” Clarke trailed off, wishing last year hadn’t ended. Last year, Dax had known better than to make any moves on her at all. He never would have been doing this if Bellamy was still there. He would have just left her alone. “You know what? Don’t even bother,” she grumbled, pocketing her phone as she stood up. “I’ll handle this myself.” She stormed out of the office, determined not to just be a damsel in distress about all of this. Last year had ended, because all good things came to an end. It was time this year became more bearable._

****

Clarke already felt the effects of jetlag when she and Bellamy finally got home. Neither she nor Bellamy had been able to sleep on the flight, and the second one had been delayed by about an hour, so that’d been one extra hour in the airport, waiting, and just waiting had been exhausting.

“One of these days . . .” Bellamy grumbled as he hauled everything inside, “I swear, my arms are just gonna fuckin’ fall off.”

“I know,” she said, although all she had in her arms right now was her baby and the mail she’d grabbed out of the mailbox. “I feel like we’re always lugging so much stuff around.”

“Most of it’s for her,” he said, nodding his head in Avery’s direction as he rolled both suitcases through the door.

“Yeah, I kinda feel like the whole world revolves around her,” Clarke said.

“It does,” he agreed, sounding out of breath when he finally set everything down. “Jesus Christ,” he swore. “I’m worn out.”

“I’ll unpack everything,” she volunteered, even though he’d probably end up helping her. “Look at all this mail, though. I feel so behind.” She sat down at the kitchen table and spread every envelope out in front of her, feeling overwhelmed.

“Worry about it tomorrow,” he suggested.

“I just wanna see what we got.” Cradling Avery in one arm, she began to sort through everything with her free hand. “Bill. Bill. Another bill,” she noted. “Ooh, look, coupons. Love that for us.”

Sidling towards the table, he asked, “Anything interesting?”

“Looks like a few cards.” Greedy as it sounded, she really hoped some of those cards had money in them.

“From who?” Bellamy asked.

“Uh . . . my grandma. My aunt and uncle. My cousins.”

“Extended family, huh?” he said. “Yeah, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

She picked up one smaller card that didn’t have a return address on it. In fact, it hadn’t been mailed; it’d just been placed in their mailbox. All it had on the front were their names.

“Who’s that one from?” Bellamy questioned.

She recognized the handwriting. Sloppy as all get out, and written hastily. “I think it’s from Finn,” she answered quietly.

Bellamy’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “You think?”

“It looks like his handwriting.” She was actually _sure_ it was from him. He had a very unique way of writing the K in her name. She used to tease him that it looked more like an H.

Putting his hand on the back of her chair, Bellamy waited a few seconds, then urged, “Well, open it up.”

“You sure?” She didn’t have to, nor did she want to if it was just going to upset him.

“Yeah, I wanna see it,” he said.

She wasn’t sure that she did, but she opened it up anyway. It wasn’t even sealed, so all she had to do was pull open the flap. The card looked like one of those dollar store cards. All it said on the front was _Congrats!_ And it was blank on the inside except for a little something he’d written. “ _Congratulations to both of you,_ ” she read. “ _Wishing you all the best. Finn._ ” She fought the urge to roll her eyes and declared, “Well, that’s pretty generic.” She was actually relieved that he hadn’t written more.

Bellamy seemed decidedly unimpressed as he stared down at the card with anger in his eyes. He snorted and wondered out loud, “Why the hell would he even bother?”

“I don’t know. Just Finn being Finn,” she said. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, or maybe he was trying to be annoying. In the time that she’d dated him, she’d known him to be both.

“Yeah, well, he can stop,” Bellamy grumbled, clearly more upset with the card than he wanted to let on. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” She put the card back in the envelope, making a new pile on the table, not for bills or coupons this time, but for trash. “I just wish we could stay in honeymoon mode,” she said, feeling like some of the life stress that had been virtually non-existent in Long Beach was already creeping back in.

“Back to real life,” Bellamy said.

“Yeah. But we’re still married now,” she reminded him, trying to get his mind off of Finn’s stupid, meaningless card. “So I’m still happy.”

He smiled down at her, said, “So am I,” and bent down to give her a kiss.


	85. Chapter 85

_Chapter 85_

The sun blazed down on Bellamy as he crossed the track and stepped out onto the field with a football in hand The grass looked freshly-mown, perfect to play on. Or to practice on, as his team would be doing when they showed up in half an hour. If they were late, their conditioning drills intensified, but even knowing that, Bellamy fully anticipated at least one of them to show up five minutes after the time he was supposed to. The guys just weren’t disciplined players, and he was trying to change that.

Bellamy smoothed his hand over the ball and extended his fingers over the laces, getting that familiar grip on it. It was harder than people thought, holding the football with the exact proper technique so that it would sail through the air on a throw. If it rested even a fraction of an inch too close to the palm of his hand, then the whole throw would get fucked up. Imagining that he was back out on that field as a player, underneath what had, at the time, felt like such bright, important lights, he lifted the ball up to chest level, then heaved it downfield. At nothing. At no one. He watched it land and roll towards the end zone, stopping just short.

He hadn’t even realized he was no longer alone out there until he heard Miller come up behind him. “You know, if you wanna make that play,” his friend said as he sauntered his way, “it helps to have a wide receiver.”

“Then where’s Zeke Shaw when you need him?” Bellamy wondered.

“Albuquerque, last I heard,” Miller replied.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Bellamy tried to recall if Zeke had any family out that way, or any reason to have moved there, but he couldn’t quite remember. “What’s he doin’ out there?”

“Living with some girl he met online,” Miller said with a shrug.

“Ah.” That made sense then. Bellamy walked over to pick up the football, once again gripping it around its side. “You know what’s funny?” he said. “Back in the day, we all used to think Zeke and Raven were the couple who was gonna make it. Nobody thought it’d be me and Clarke. But look at us now. She’s Mrs. Blake.”

Miller smiled at him, then teasingly asked, “Did Mrs. Blake enjoy her honeymoon?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bellamy grinned. “I made sure of it.” The proof was still on their bodies. He had some fingernail marks on his back that were only now starting to fade, and Clarke had told him this morning that she was still pleasantly sore.

“It’s good to have you back, though,” Miller said.

“Feels weird. I got used to being lazy,” he admitted. “How’s the team doing, though? Made any progress?”

Miller sighed disappointedly. “Minimal. They listen to you more than me, though. We’ll get more done now that you’re back.”

Bellamy nodded, figuring as much. Miller had been a good assistant coach, but sometimes the guys didn’t push themselves as hard when he was the one supervising them at weights or during practice. “I might have to miss a few days coming up,” Bellamy told his friend, just so he knew what would be coming. “I got some stuff I gotta take care of sooner than later.”

“What kind of stuff?” Miller asked.

Looking down at the green grass and the faded ten yard line still painted on it,, Bellamy mumbled, “Avery. Adoption stuff.” He didn’t wanna go into detail, because to be honest, it freaked him out to even think about it and everything that could go wrong.

“Oh. Well, yeah, of course that should be your priority,” Miller said. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Bellamy didn’t feel like talking about any of that, so he motioned for his friend to run down the field so he could pass him the ball. Didn’t matter if he’d never actually played as a receiver. They just needed to relax, throw that ball around, and feel like they were young again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Coming home from California when she did turned out to be perfect timing for Clarke, because there was someone who ended up responding to one of the fliers she’d posted about music lessons. Madi was a young girl—probably about thirteen or fourteen—who lived a couple blocks down the street, and she wanted to learn how to play the piano. Clarke was definitely better on the guitar, but when Madi stopped by for a visit, she faked her confidence on the piano and acted like she was a little more knowledgeable about it than she actually was. She figured she could learn more about it as she was teaching.

“It’s gonna be really fun,” Clarke assured Madi as the young girl was getting ready to leave. “I promise.”

Whether Madi was just being a typical moody teenager or in fact _really_ didn’t want to be there was a bit of a mystery, but the girl hadn’t shown an ounce of enthusiasm at all during the visit. In fact, she walked with slumped shoulders and a frown on her face.

The front door opened, and in came Bellamy, who immediately looked confused to see a teenage girl in their living room. “Hey,” he said. “When did we have another kid?”

Clarke laughed a little and introduced them. “Bellamy, this is Madi. She’s my first music student.”

“Not by choice,” Madi added.

“Her mom got her a keyboard for her birthday,” Clarke elaborated.

“Yep,” Madi grumbled. “And now she wants to live out her dream of playing the piano through me.”

Parents living vicariously through a kid? Clarke totally sympathized with that. Hell, that was something she’d been dealing with up until recently when she’d decided not to pursue a career in medicine. “I’m trying to get her to have a more positive attitude,” she said, hoping that, after a few lessons, Madi might actually find something about piano-playing that she actually enjoyed.

“Hey, you got a good teacher,” Bellamy told her, stepping out of his shoes and kicking them aside at the door. “Trust me, she’s pretty cool.”

Madi gave Clarke a skeptical look and asked, “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Clarke put her hands on her hips and said, “I’m twenty-two. I’m young, I’m hip.”

“Do you have Tik Tok?” Madi asked.

“No.”

“Then you’re not that cool.”

Clarke huffed and through her hands in the air. “I have Instagram! Isn’t that enough? Bellamy doesn’t have Instagram.”

“But Bellamy’s still cool,” Madi said. “Look at his beard.”

Bellamy grinned smugly and headed into the kitchen. “I like her.”

For the first time since she’d been there, Madi actually cracked a smile. “Relax. I’m just kidding,” she said, reaching for the door. “Kind of. I’ll see you next week, Clarke.”

“Bye.” Clarke closed the door after she was gone, deciding to take the teasing in stride. She probably _wasn’t_ as cool as Bellamy, even with her Instagram.

“Funny kid,” Bellamy said as he opened up the fridge and peered inside.

“She’s feisty,” Clarke remarked. “I think I can rope her into being a babysitter sometimes.”

“Only if she’s responsible,” Bellamy said, taking a beer out of the refrigerator. “And CPR-certified.”

“Are _you_ CPR-certified?” Clarke challenged.

“No. But I could do CPR if I had to,” he claimed.

“Well, if we ever need a babysitter and no one else is available, it’s not bad to have another option,” she said, swaying towards him. She slid her hands up his chest, draped her arms over his shoulders, and kissed him. “Mmm, how was your first day back?”

“Good,” he said, setting his drink down on the counter so he could wrap his arms around her waist. “Better now.”

“My day was good, too,” she said. “I’m so happy I finally have a student.”

“Me, too. But you know, Clarke, you don’t have to worry about working,” he said. “I can support us. We’ll be okay.”

“But I wanna work,” she said. “I mean, okay, I’m not gonna end up being a doctor, but I can still _do_ something.” As rewarding and fulfilling as it was to be doing the mom thing, she needed other responsibilities in her life, too, to help keep her same. “I wanna do something,” she said, hoping that this new venture would be something worthwhile.

****

_“We have to do something. This has to change.” Clarke tried to speak as passionately and strongly as she could, because she had very passionate, strong opinions on the issue at hand, and she wanted the rest of the student council to back her up on what she was proposing to them. “Sexual harassment at this school is a serious problem, and it’s only getting worse,” she said. “How many of us have been the victims of it? How many of us have been too scared or embarrassed to say anything?”_

_Nobody said anything or even nodded in agreement, but they had to be thinking back to things, recalling little incidents here and there, or perhaps even bigger ones._

_“It happens on a daily basis, sometimes right under our noses, and the school isn’t doing enough to address it,” Clarke went on. “So here’s what I propose: An anonymous online reporting system.” She used the clicker in her hand to progress to the next slide in her presentation, which was a screenshot of a very important page that already existed on the school website. “We already have a link people can go to to report bullying,” she said, “right there on the homepage. Whenever anyone sees anything, if they don’t feel comfortable telling someone face to face, they just get on here, fill this out, and the administrators get the information in an email. Now imagine how many more inappropriate sexual encounters would get reported if people had a way to do it anonymously.” It seemed like a simple and obvious solution to her, so obvious that she was surprised the school hadn’t already implemented it. But sexual assault was a touchier subject than bullying, it seemed. For whatever reason. “It’s not asking much of the school, especially not when it could prevent someone from being assaulted or raped.”_

_Thank God Wells was there, because he was nodding in agreement. Everyone else was just kind of sitting there staring blankly ahead. Even hearing the word_ rape _didn’t get a reaction._

_“Because that’s what we’re looking at here, people,” Clarke continued, hoping that they were just taking it all in rather than spacing out on her. “If something doesn’t change, it’s just gonna get worse. That’s why we have to do something.” She waited a few seconds, hoping to see some other heads start to nod, but none did, so she clicked on to her next slide, which showed a screenshot of the Change.org homepage for petitions. “We might also think about gathering up signatures,” she proposed. “You know, people who support our initiative. We could do that online, or on paper, or maybe even a combination of both. Online’s definitely easier and less time-consuming, but maybe seeing all sorts of handwritten names might really make the administration realize how many people are concerned about this.”_

_Finally, someone else spoke up, but it was the one person on the student council whose opinion Clarke had no real interest in hearing. Josephine was just a sophomore, but she acted like she was a senior and had a bad habit of thinking she was better than everyone else._ “Are _people concerned, though?” she challenged._

_“Yes.” Clarke was stunned by the sheer stupidity of that question. “And if they’re not, they should be.”_

_Josephine just rolled her eyes._

_“Eight out of ten students experience sexual harassment in schools,” Clarke said, glad she’d done her research. “And it’s not just girls, either. Boys deal with it, too. Kids even in elementary school deal with so much more than they should ever have to. Which is why the last part of my approach centers on education.” She skipped forward a few slides, sensing that she was losing the interest of her less-than-captive audience. “Currently, our school has no curriculum in place for educating kids on sexual assault and harassment. If we could implement something, say at the junior high level, imagine how beneficial that could be. These kids could come into high school with a different mindset already in place. They would already know what’s appropriate and what’s not. Maybe high schoolers like us could even be the ones to teach them about it.”_

_Josephine snorted out a laugh and said, “Yeah, good luck getting that through the PTA.”_

_“What?”_

_“I’m just saying, do you really think parents are gonna agree to let a bunch of teenagers talk to their kids about sex?”_

_She frowned, fed up with the negative attitude she was getting from that girl. “It’s not sex; it’s--”_

_“Sexual harassment,” Josephine cut in. “Yeah, we heard you the first time. But face it, Clarke: You’re not exactly the ideal role model for impressionable youth.”_

_The sudden and not-at-all subtle jab wasn’t something Clarke had anticipated. Although, in this school, maybe she should have. “This isn’t about me,” she said, trying to stay focused on the actual issue._

_“Sure it is,” Josephine said. “That’s why you called this meeting. You’re upset because someone sexted you. Big deal. In fact, maybe you should take it as a compliment. I mean, you’re not exactly looking like the prom princess this year.”_

_As hard as she tried not to react to that . . . it was hard not to. Clarke_ felt _the obviousness of her hurt feelings crash all over her face. “Look, Josephine, I don’t—I don’t care what you think about me,” she stammered, struggling to retain her composure in the face of such a personal attack. “I just wanna do something about this problem.”_

_“If you’re the only one who thinks it’s a problem, then maybe_ you’re _the problem,” Josephine said._

_“She’s not the only one,” Wells said, rising from his seat. He came up to the front of the classroom to stand next to Clarke, a show of support and solidarity that suddenly felt very,_ very _vital. “I think we need to do something about it, too.”_

_“Of course you do,” Josephine said, twirling her hair around her finger flippantly. “But I don’t. So I’m leaving. And anyone else who thinks Clarke’s overreacting to a harmless little dick pic can come with me.” She made a big show out of getting up and walking out of the classroom, and the sad thing was . . . everyone else on the student council went with her. Freshmen to seniors. Guys and girls. They all just got up and left. And Clarke was shocked. She hadn’t expected such opposition. It just seemed so obvious to her that they had a serious issue to deal with, and none of her ideas were asking for too much time or even effort. They were simple solutions to a rampant problem, but . . . apparently no one cared. Besides Wells, anyway, who stayed there with her and didn’t say anything._

_Clarke felt utterly discouraged, to the point where she wanted to cry. She held her tears in, though, and grumbled, “God, how does a girl like that ever get on student council?”_

_“People are afraid of her, so they voted for her,” Wells reasoned. “Hey, don’t listen to her, Clarke. This matters, and people will care about it. She just doesn’t wanna face the facts, ‘cause she and Dax are hooking up now.”_

_“What?” If that was true, that explained part of the hostility. “Seriously?”_

_“Yeah. You didn’t know?”_

_“No. I’ve been kind of out of the loop this year.”_

_“I’ve noticed.”_

_Dax and Josephine . . . that was a truly terrifying combination. Not just because they were both crappy people, but because . . . Dax was a senior, and Josephine was probably going to get caught up in something even she didn’t deserve. Dax wasn’t one of the_ good _senior guys. Not like Bellamy had been._

_“This is the first thing I’ve been truly passionate about in a long time,” Clarke said sadly, clicking a button to shut off the projector so that her failed presentation was no longer staring her in the face. “And it’s not gonna amount to anything.”_

_“Sure it is,” Wells said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. “You have good ideas, lots of them, and I’ll help you.”_

_Could they really do this on their own, though? There were sixteen people on student council, and here they were, just a lonely two._

_Wells must not have dealt with much crap in his life, because he still had this unwavering optimism and faith that something could be done. “I promise you, Clarke,” he said, “we’ll do something good here.”_

_He sounded so certain, and she wanted to believe him. She_ needed _to believe him, because she really,_ really _needed something good._

****

Bellamy rubbed Clarke’s back and said, almost apologetically, “I didn’t mean to sound like some old-fashioned guy. I don’t _have_ to be the breadwinner.”

“Oh, no, you’re definitely winning the bread,” she assured him. Her contributions to their household income were going to be minimal for the foreseeable future. Even when she did accumulate more students, it wasn’t like she could charge an arm and a leg for lessons.

“Not really,” he said. “I’m a high school football coach.”

“And I’m a piano teacher of one. And I don’t even know if I can teach,” she said, starting to worry a bit. “I can play, but . . .” She’d never even actually taken lessons herself. She’d taught herself most of what she knew, and singing had always been something that had just come naturally.

“Well, teach me something,” Bellamy told her. “I need another piano lesson.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.” Lovingly, he stroked her cheek and tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear. “Let’s see what you got.”

She knew for a fact that he had no interest in the piano, so him volunteering to learn a little something was utterly adorable to her. She took him up on the offer, too, and brought him upstairs to try to teach him a few simple things. Just some basic notes that could combine together to form basic melodies. She showed him how to position his hands on the keys and took extra delight in seeing his wedding ring on the left ring finger. He definitely noticed hers, too, because as she was demonstrating which keys to press down, he reached over and traced his fingers over her wedding band and engagement ring, which she still had to get connected together. She was going to wear both of them for the rest of her life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back when he had taken the job as football coach, Bellamy had anticipated that he’d have to put his foot down with some of the guys. Athletes weren’t exactly well-known for being the best-behaved teenagers of all time. He knew a lot of them were spending every other night this summer getting drunk, and there was nothing he could do about it. But when their drinking caused them to do something so stupid that the cops ended up having to punish them for it, Bellamy felt like, not only _could_ he do something, he had to do something.

Two of his linemen sulked up to him at practice and told him all about what trouble they’d gotten into over the weekend, and Bellamy made them be the water boys for practice instead of actually practicing. They hated every second of it, which was the goal, and looked like they couldn’t wait to get out of there and go home. But instead of letting them go, Bellamy told them to get in his car, and he drove them to Kane’s community center, where he was sure there had to be something wholesome going on that could set these two idiots straight.

“Hey, Kane,” he said when he walked in with the wannabe hoodlums in tow.

“Hey.” Kane left a room full of kids with their faces buried in books and approached him with a semi-tired smile. “How’s my favorite son-in-law? Do I get to call you that, even though Clarke’s not my stepdaughter yet?”

“Yeah, I think you do.” Bellamy looked past him at the kids, noting that most of them were young, but there were a few who looked old enough to be in junior high who were reading to the younger ones.

“So how are you?” Kane asked again.

“Good, good. Better than these two,” he answered, motioning to his players. “This is Ben and Dalton. Two starters on my team who might not be starters anymore. They decided it’d be fun to go out last night and vandalize some cars. But they ratted each other out, so now they got all this community service to do to learn the error of their ways.”

Kane nodded. “Ah, I see.”

“So I was wondering if they might be able to volunteer here, maybe find out what it feels like to be an actual good role model for a change.”

Kane surveyed the two linemen briefly, then agreed to it. “Sure. We’ve got our summer reading program going on right now. Go ahead and jump right in.”

Ben and Dalton exchanged unenthused glances with each other, then slumped into the reading room. All the kids looked at them as though they were giants, and one little boy ran right up to Dalton and threw his book at him.

“They look thrilled to be here,” Kane remarked sarcastically.

“They could be in a lot worse places.” Bellamy knew that they both had pretty well-off parents who were capable of keeping this off their records. The community service was a slap on the wrist.

“Yeah, they got off easy,” Kane agreed. “How old are those guys?”

“Sixteen. Juniors.”

“So you’re not that much older than them then.”

Bellamy grunted. “Old enough to make ‘em scared of me. You should’ve seen their faces when they walked into practice and told me what was goin’ on. They knew I was gonna chew them out. And I did.”

“Well, that’s what they need sometimes.”

“Yep.” Bellamy shook his head at their utter cluelessness as they sat down with the little kids and stared at the books as though they didn’t know how to read them. Hell, they didn’t even have dyslexia as an excuse. They were just lazy. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why just go out and cause trouble? I mean, I wasn’t a saint when I was their age, but all I wanted to do was get laid and party. I wasn’t vandalizing shit and having to do community service for it.”

“You had a goal you were working towards,” Kane reasoned. “College. Football scholarship. They don’t have that.”

“Yeah, none of my guys are gettin’ any scholarships this year.” Hopefully in another year or two, they’d be a much better team, and scouts would catch word that there was some actual talent in Arkadia again. There were definitely some decent guys on his team who needed sports if they were going to make it onto college. Just like he had. “They’re really bad, Kane,” he lamented. “It’s sad to see, but the team’s gone so downhill.”

“Well, I never went to any games back when you were in high school,” Kane said, “but from everything I’ve heard, that was inevitable after you left. I’m sure you can turn it around, though.”

Bellamy shook his head, doubtful. “I don’t know.” He had plenty of ideas for how to help them improve, but he didn’t feel like he had the time or energy to implement them yet. “I can’t really focus on them right now, ‘cause . . . there’s more important stuff to focus on,” he mumbled.

“Well, sure. You’re still a new dad.”

“Not legally.” He sighed, wishing there was a way to fast-forward through the next few weeks or months or . . . however long it took to make Avery officially his. Waiting was torture. The longer it took, the more he worried. “So that lawyer friend you have . . . you’re sure he can’t meet up with us until Wednesday?” he asked quietly.

“He’s on vacation until then.”

_Damn_. Having just gone on his honeymoon, he respected a person’s right to just get away for a while, but . . . Wednesday felt too far away. “But he’s a good lawyer?” he asked, seeking any reassurance he could get. “He knows what he’s doing?”

“Yes. He’s handled lots of adoption cases.”

In the back of his mind, Bellamy kept trying to tell himself that this lawyer, whose name he couldn’t remember, had probably handled plenty of adoption cases that were messier and more complicated than this one. There were some truly fucked up families out there, but thankfully, his wasn’t one of them. And they wouldn’t ever be, because once the adoption was finalized, Avery was his daughter in every sense of the word, and that was all there was to it.

Folding his arms over his chest, he lowered his voice and pondered, “You know, I was thinking . . . do we have to tell Finn about all this? I mean, I know it’s the law to inform him, but we’ve already done that, so . . .” He trailed off, wondering if Kane even knew the answer to his questions, or if this was something only a lawyer could answer. “Can’t we just go ahead and get this all done as soon as possible?”

Kane sort of . . . cringed. Which wasn’t a good sign. “Bellamy, I know you’re nervous, but it’s important to include him in this whole process. And I think he’s a lot less likely to oppose the adoption if he feels like his voice is being heard and respected. Communication’s key. If you don’t include him now, he could cause problems down the line. Nobody wants that.”

No, nobody wanted that, but Bellamy didn’t know _how_ to communicate with a guy whose voice and opinion he, quite frankly, didn’t respect at all. He hadn’t done anything to even _deserve_ to be included in any of this. Still, though, as much as he hated to have to suck it up and admit it, Bellamy knew Kane was right. It was good to have someone more rational and level-headed who could keep him in check about all of this. “Thanks, Kane, for everything,” he said. “You’ve been a big help. See, it’s good that Avery has grandparents like you and Abby and Jake. And my mom. She’s a good grandparent, too. Finn can’t give her that. Not that that’s his fault or anything, but . . .” He wasn’t really sure what he was trying to say, so he just muttered, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Kane said. “She’s got a good family.”

“Yep.” Two parents who loved her, grandparents who loved to babysit, and more aunts and uncles than she’d be able to count for years. It was a damn good family, one that he was determined to make sure Finn Collins was never part of.


	86. Chapter 86

_Chapter 86_

Bellamy shut the car door and looked at his reflection in the window, using it as a mirror as he readjusted his suit jacket. “How do I look?” he asked Clarke.

“Fine,” she replied. “But you know, we’re just meeting with the lawyer. You didn’t have to dress up.”

“I know,” he said, “but I wanna make a good impression.” Smoothing down his hair a bit, he decided that he looked professional enough and walked around to her side of the car.

“Well, you look very mature,” she said, linking her arm with his.

“That’s what I was goin’ for.” They made their way towards the front door of Kane and Abby’s house, and with every step they took, Bellamy felt his stomach twist up even more. “You nervous?” he asked her.

“No,” she said quickly. “This is a good thing. We’re gonna start moving forward.”

In the back of his mind, he knew that was all true, but the forefront of his mind wouldn’t shut the hell up. “I’m nervous,” he said, fighting the urge to bend over the front yard flower bed and just puke. He hadn’t even eaten anything that morning, but he still felt like he could get sick any second.

“Don’t be,” she said, reaching down to grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s gonna be fine.”

As much as he appreciated all her efforts to calm him down, it just wasn’t gonna work. He was going to be tense as fuck throughout the whole adoption process, and nothing would change that.

When they got inside, there were voices coming from the kitchen, so they headed straight that way. Kane and Abby were sitting at the table with a man who reminded Bellamy of Denzel Washington. Although he was probably bulkier than Denzel. The guy looked strong enough to crush stone—or Finn, whichever— with his bare hands. He was wearing a suit and tie, so Bellamy felt vindicated in his decision to dress up.

“There they are,” Abby said, rising from her seat. She came over and gave Clarke a hug, then introduced them all. “Mr. Pike, this is my daughter Clarke and her husband Bellamy.”

“Hi,” Clarke said, waving politely.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” the lawyer said, standing up. He immediately and confidently strode over to them to shake their hands. “I’m Charles Pike.”

Bellamy gave him a firm handshake, trying to project equal confidence. “Thanks for meeting with us,” he said.

“It’s my pleasure.”

Abby looked over their shoulders, as if she expected to see someone else, and questioned, “Where’s Avery?”

“With my mom,” Bellamy said. “We just wanted to be able to focus on . . . all of this.” He hoped they weren’t _supposed_ to bring her. The lawyer didn’t need to _meet_ Avery, did he?

“Are you going somewhere after?” Kane asked, gesturing to Bellamy’s outfit.

“Nope.” He was well aware that he looked like he was going out to a fancy dinner or . . . fucking prom or something, but it didn’t matter if he was overdressed. Better than showing up looking like a slob. “So, uh . . . how do we get started?” he asked, feeling like his stomach wasn’t settling down in the slightest. Standing around making small-talk wasn’t going to do him any good, so they needed to just dive right in.

Charles Pike asked a lot of questions, some of which Abby and Kane were present for. But Abby butted in a lot and tried to take charge of the conversation, which didn’t surprise Bellamy in the slightest. Clarke finally put her foot down and said her mom needed to give them some space, and Kane helped by bringing her out back to sit in the lounge chairs by the pool for a while. Once it was just the two of them and their lawyer, Bellamy felt like he and Clarke were able to get more done. They gave Pike a comprehensive story about how they had ended up raising Avery together. He even sketched out a literal timeline to keep everything straight. They showed him some pictures and videos of Avery, too, probably more than he needed to see. But they wanted him to see her in her nursery, to see videos of them giving her a bath or playing with her or even just rocking her back to sleep at night. All things that Finn wouldn’t be able to show his lawyer, if he was even getting one.

And of course there was a lot of discussion about what they wanted out of this. A full-on adoption. That was the only route they were willing to pursue. Nothing where Finn would retain any right to custody of any kind. He didn’t deserve it, and Avery’s life would be better off without him in it.

“So what do we even call this?” Bellamy asked Pike, wanting to have some kind of easy terminology so he could research things on his own if he wanted to. “A stepparent adoption?”

“Yes,” Pike confirmed. “You’re married, and you’re looking to adopt your spouse’s child. If you weren’t legally married yet, it’d be a second parent adoption.”

Bellamy nodded, feeling like _stepparent_ just sounded better. He was officially Avery’s stepdad now, so that made him feel more secure than just being Clarke’s boyfriend. “Getting married . . . that’s gotta make it more likely that this is gonna work out, right?” he asked, allowing himself to be hopeful.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Pike said.

“It’s not like we just got married for this, though,” Clarke added.

“No, we did it ‘cause we wanted to.” He reached over and put his hand on her leg, and she set her hand on top of his.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “‘cause we’re in love.”

“Yeah, we are.” He smiled at her, totally fine with being cheesy in front of this guy.

“Trust me, that’s very obvious,” Pike said. “Alright, so we’re gonna file a petition with the court. But before that, it’d be in everyone’s best interest if we obtain consent from Avery’s noncustodial biological parent. What did you say his name was again?”

“Finn,” Clarke answered.

“Last name?”

“Collins.”

Bellamy let Finn’s title roll through his mind a few times. _Noncustodial biological parent_. The _noncustodial_ part made him feel really good. But the _biological_ part still concerned him, and the fact that Finn even got to be called a _parent_ drove him up the wall.

“We need to terminate his parental rights before we can make any headway,” Pike said as he jotted down the name.

Clarke nodded in agreement, but Bellamy just frowned, and she noticed it. “What?” she asked him.

“It’s just . . .” He hesitated a moment, not sure he could fully explain why certain things about the legality of all of this made him so fucking angry. “I don’t understand why he even has parental rights,” he eventually grumbled. “He’s not a parent.”

“Bellamy . . .” Clarke said softly.

“No, I know what he means, but . . . it just pisses me off.”

“I understand,” Pike said. “That’s a frustration I hear a lot. It’s not always fair, but that’s just the way it is.”

Bellamy swallowed hard, knowing he would have to just accept that. Nothing was ever going to change who had contributed his genetics to making Avery who she was. And truth be told, he didn’t even want that to change, because she was so perfect the way she was. He couldn’t picture her any other way.

“Now I’m not gonna lie to you, stepparent adoptions can be . . . sensitive,” Pike said. “When we’re talking about terminating rights, that means Mr. Collins won’t be able to make any medical decisions for his child, and she won’t inherit from him or benefit from him financially.”

Bellamy just snorted, almost laughing because . . . what financial benefit would Finn be able to provide?

“And of course there’s an emotional component to it, too,” Pike went on. “Sometimes that the biggest hurdle to overcome. Some biological parents struggle because they feel that, if they agree to this, it somehow shows a lack of love for the child, which isn’t always the case.”

“No, it just shows the love _I_ have for her,” Bellamy said, looking down at a picture of her on his phone, one he’d taken just for the hell of it because she always looked adorable when she was asleep. “I love her a lot.”

Pike nodded and said, “I sense that. And I’m confident a judge will, too. But this is still a situation that needs to be handled with care. So tell me a little more about Finn’s involvement with the child.”

Grunting, Bellamy couldn’t resist saying, “What involvement?”

Clarke was a little less snarky and explained, “It’s been minimal to say the least. He’s only seen her once since she’s been born. But . . .” She hesitated, looked at Bellamy, and got quieter when she said, “He did try to come see her at the hospital after she was born.”

Bellamy looked down at his lap, remembering that moment vividly.

“And?” Pike prompted.

“I didn’t let him,” Bellamy replied. It was what it was.

“Which was fine by me,” Clarke made sure to add.

Pike jotted down a few notes on that, then asked, “What else?”

“Um, well . . . when I was pregnant, he never really did anything for me,” Clarke said. “Bellamy went with me to all my appointments and Lamaze classes and things like that. He was even with me for the first ultrasound.”

And that was a moment he remembered even more vividly, especially since they’d been worried she might have had a miscarriage. Looking back, even then, he’d felt an attachment to that baby. Part of him had probably sensed that he was going to be her dad.

“Did Finn ever offer to accompany you to any of these appointments?” Pike asked.

“No.”

“What about child support?”

Clarke sighed and had to admit, “He did offer that. At one point.”

Pike looked at her expectantly, obviously needing more information.

“I turned it down,” she said. “Is that a problem?”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “You have every right not to take his money. But . . . it _does_ show that he was willing to contribute.”

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not liking the sound of that one bit. “He wouldn’t have contributed much,” he mumbled.

“He’s held onto his job for a while, though,” Clarke said.

He shot her a sharp look, confused as to why she’d give him any sort of credit.

“I’m just saying, let’s be honest, it’s more job stability than either of us has had,” she said.

“Well, I got a stable job now,” he said. Thank God he wasn’t still a janitor, because that wouldn’t have helped his case at all.

“What do you do?” Pike asked him.

“I’m a coach.”

Pike wrote that down, too, then inquired, “Do you work, Clarke?”

Now it was her turn to squirm around a bit as she struggled with her response. “Well, I’m kinda . . . I’m starting up a . . . it’s gonna be like a self-employment thing. It’s in its early stages,” she said. “But we have financial support from my mom and Kane, too, if we need it. I mean . . . look at this house they live in.”

“But we don’t have to rely on them,” Bellamy added. He didn’t want it to seem like they couldn’t make it on their own.

“No, not at all,” Clarke agreed. “We can take care of ourselves. And our baby.”

“Right,” Bellamy said. But even as they were saying these things, he still found himself worried as fuck. Pike was getting them to discuss things that a judge would want to hear, and what if the things they said weren’t good enough? “Can I ask you a question?” Bellamy blurted.

“Of course,” Pike said.

It definitely wasn’t a question he wanted to ask, wasn’t one he even wanted to think about. But it was the obvious one, and he couldn’t very well hold it in any longer. “What if Finn doesn’t consent to all this?” His voice shook a bit as the words came out. “What if he refuses to give up his rights? Can he stop me from adopting Avery?” He held his breath as he waited for the answer.

“I won’t lie to you,” Pike said, his tone very serious, “he could certainly make things difficult.”

_What does that mean?_ Bellamy wondered. How difficult could things get?

“But even if he doesn’t consent, it’s still possible for a court to grant adoption,” Pike went on. “I’ve seen it happen before when the father doesn’t demonstrate the desire to assume full legal, financial, and parental responsibility for the child. As long as adoption is what’s in the best interest of your daughter, which it clearly is, then I feel confident.”

Bellamy nodded slowly, trying to soak up some of that confidence. He felt like he was going to need it. “So you’ve handled cases where he biological father hasn’t agreed?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And it’s gone well?”

Pike’s two-second pause was a clear answer even before he actually responded. “Almost every single time.”

“Almost?” Bellamy felt like his whole stomach just dropped to the floor. Things like that made it really hard to be as confident as he wanted to be.

“Bellamy,” Clarke said, reaching over to give his hand another comforting squeeze. She’d been doing that a lot today. “I think we can trust him.”

“You absolutely can,” Pike affirmed. “I know what I’m doing.”

Bellamy nodded, knowing that they were better off now than they had been when they’d first shown up. They had a lawyer, a good one, and no matter what, they had a stronger case than Finn did. He just wished Finn didn’t have any case at all. “So what do we need to do?” he asked, motioning to himself and Clarke.

“Well . . . you need to talk to the biological father about all of this,” Pike said.

“We kinda started,” Clarke said. “We just told him this was something we wanted to do.”

“And how’d he react?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure. But I think I should . . .” She looked over at Bellamy for a few seconds, then turned her whole body to face him. “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” she said softly, “but I think I should be the one to talk to him. Alone.”

_Alone?_ His whole body clenched.

“It’s not that I don’t want you there, but . . . I don’t want you to get worked up,” she said.

“I won’t.” He felt like she needed his support, needed him there to back her up in case there was something she forgot to say. But he also knew that he was worked up even right now, and they were just sitting here talking to a guy who was on their side. He couldn’t guarantee that he could keep his composure with Finn, so as much as it killed him to have to swallow his pride, he did just that. “Okay.” He had to put all his trust and faith in Clarke. She was his wife, after all.

“We got this,” she said, trying to smile at him. But there were a few tears in her eyes that told a different story.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders as Bellamy drove her over to Finn’s. It was the weight of _their_ world, at least. They needed this to go well. Even though they’d entertained some worst case scenarios with their lawyer today, it was still quite possible that she could convince Finn to agree to this. It wasn’t like he’d really _wanted_ to be a father, after all, and she knew she could be persuasive.

****

_Barely able to contain her excitement as she and Wells left the high school conference room, Clarke babbled, “I think that went really well. Like about as well as it could have gone. Don’t you?”_

_“Oh, yeah,” Wells agreed. He had their presentation board tucked under his arm. Perhaps it hadn’t been necessary, but it certainly hadn’t hurt to be extra prepared and have visuals and diagrams to go along with her slides presentation. They’d gotten lots of signatures for their petition, too, both the online one and hand-signed one. Surely the administrators had to do something, because people were having conversations about the issue of sexual harassment now. They couldn’t just sweep it under the rug anymore._

_“They seemed really receptive,” Clarke said. “Lots of smiling, lots of nodding. That couldn’t have just all been an act, right?”_

_“No, they’re gonna use some of this,” Wells said, sounding so sure. “The online anonymous reporting at least.”_

_“Yeah, and that’d at least be a start.” Once they got that up and running, they could do more. “I feel really encouraged.” It’d been a hell of a long time since she’d felt this good about anything._

_“Me, too,” Wells said. “You did it, Clarke.”_

_“No,_ we _did it,” she corrected. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you so much, Wells.” She hugged him, so grateful and appreciative, because honestly, without him, she might have been too discouraged by the student council’s response to press forward. But he’d believed in her and believed in this, and because of that, it felt like they were really going to get to do something positive for the school. Something that would have a much longer-lasting legacy than waving pom poms on the sideline would have._

_Wells slowly began to release her from the hug, but right at the moment where his arms should have unwrapped from her, he pulled her back in closer and brought his lips down atop hers. It caught Clarke so off-guard that she couldn’t even say or do anything. But he just barely kissed her before stepping back and apologizing. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”_

_She couldn’t even look at him, because . . . he’d just kissed her and . . . she hadn’t been kissed by anyone since . . ._

_“God, with everything we were just talking about in there . . .” Wells looked like he was already mentally beating himself up. “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I should’ve asked for permission.”_

_“It’s okay,” she assured him. He wasn’t some predator. He was a good guy who had once had feelings for her, and who clearly still did._

_“No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s not okay. I can’t believe I--”_

_“Wells,” she cut in. “It’s okay. I know we used to . . .” She didn’t want to lead him on and give him the wrong idea, because even though they had really begun to reconnect as friends this year, it wasn’t going to be anything more than that. “I’m just not really looking for a relationship right now,” she said, trying to be as compassionate as possible. “With anyone. Things are just too . . .” She didn’t want to talk about Bellamy and the feelings she still had for him, so she summed it up with, “I just can’t.”_

_Naturally, Wells looked disappointed to hear that, but he wasn’t rude about it, which really spoke to his character. “I understand,” he said._

_“You’re a really good guy, and any girl would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend, but . . .” She didn’t want to drag this out and make it any more painful or embarrassing for him than it probably already was, so she said, “I’m sorry, I just . . .” and couldn’t finish her sentence. The more it sank in that somebody other than Bellamy had just_ kissed _her, the sadder she felt. So she had to get out of there._

_Taking off, she ran for the nearest bathroom, needing to lock herself inside a stall and just cry. And that was exactly what she did. Any excitement she’d felt after meeting with the administrators was gone, replaced now by something that was hard to explain. She wasn’t upset with Wells, but she still wished he hadn’t kissed her. Because it felt like a final nail in the coffin that was her relationship with Bellamy. Sure, he’d been gone for a while, and she’d made a decision in his absence that pretty much guaranteed things would never be the same again. But this made it feel like things were really, truly, and completely over between them, like she was at that point now where other people thought she’d moved on. And she hadn’t._

****

When Bellamy pulled the car to a stop, Clarke gripped the handle of her seatbelt tightly, reluctant to unclasp it. There loomed Finn’s house, a place she’d had no intention of ever returning to after her last visit. Yet here she was. Because she had to be.

She and Bellamy sat in silence for a moment. The only sound she heard was the jangling of the keys as he turned off the ignition. She was pretty sure neither one of them was even breathing. Bellamy was obviously a nervous wreck, and she was trying not to become one.

“You sure?” he finally asked her, breaking the silence.

As much as she knew it was better to talk to Finn alone, part of her yearned to have him by her side. “Yeah,” she said, unhooking her seatbelt. She reached for the door handle, and before pulling it, she quietly confessed, “Now _I’m_ nervous.” If things went badly, she wasn’t sure what they would do next. And Bellamy would be devastated.

_Worst case scenario_ , she reminded herself, trying to push her fears away and think optimistically instead. “It’s gonna be okay,” she said, more to herself this time than to him. “I just have to stay calm and try to be . . . compassionate. What else did Pike say?”

“Try to empathize with his perspective,” Bellamy said, rolling his eyes.

“Right. I can do that.” She empathized with people all the time. Didn’t she? She liked to think she wasn’t some horribly selfish person who couldn’t understand why others felt the way they did, so . . . hopefully she could be empathetic to Finn. “Wish me luck?” she said shakily.

Bellamy leaned over and kissed her cheek, then stroked her hair and said, “Good luck.”

Since she couldn’t very well just sit out there much longer—Finn was expecting them, and for all she knew, he was looking out the window—she opened the door and got out.

“I’m right out here if you need anything,” Bellamy reminded her.

“I know.” She shut the door, not _wanting_ to need anything. This was something _she_ could do. Not only for her daughter, but for her husband. She could do this for them.

With each and every step, she got closer to that rickety front porch where she and Finn had last conversed. Except . . . the porch didn’t look so rickety anymore. In fact, the whole house looked like it was in better condition, like it’d gotten a fresh coat of paint, and the lawn had been mowed. But maybe it was all just a façade. The inside was probably a completely different story.

When she got to the front door, she was set to knock when she noticed that there was actually a brand new doorbell. She rang it, and a few seconds later, she heard footsteps as Finn came downstairs. He pulled open the door and _definitely_ didn’t smile when he saw her.

“Hey,” she said, trying her best to sound . . . pleasant. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”

Finn looked out at the car and noted, “Bellamy’s not coming in?”

“No, he’s just gonna wait outside.”

Opening the door wider, Finn said, “Must be torture for him.”

It probably was. Clarke cast a quick glance back at her husband as she headed inside and noticed that he was staring straight out the front window, like he couldn’t even bear to watch.

Upon setting foot in the living room, Clarke was immediately struck by how different the house looked. The outside definitely hadn’t been a façade. Things were cleaner, more organized, and it didn’t smell like pot anymore. It actually looked like Finn had been good about the upkeep up the place, and there was no evidence of his stoner roommates anymore.

_Dammit_ , she thought. It wasn’t like she wanted her ex-boyfriend’s life to be _bad_ or anything, but . . . she’d taken comfort in the fact that hers was so much . . . better. Couldn’t he wait until _after_ the adoption to start to turn his life around?

“So I’m sure you know why I’m here,” she said, deciding to cut straight to the point.

He shut the front door and mumbled dejectedly, “Doesn’t take a genius.”

_Maybe he just cleaned up when he found out I was coming over there_ , she pondered. Although he would have had to do that pretty quickly. “We met with an adoption lawyer,” she told him bluntly. “We’re ready to . . . make things official.”

He stared at her, his expression unchanging, and swallowed hard.

“But I know that, no matter what, you’re Avery’s biological father,” she said, trying to crank out the empathy right away. “You’ll always be her biological father. Nothing’s ever gonna change that. So I don’t want you to feel like this is something we’re doing behind your back or without you. We want you to be a part of this process, too. You deserve to be.”

It took a few seconds, but finally, Finn . . . sort of smiled? Not the happy kind of smile, but the tense, angry kind. “Oh, is that what _we_ want?” he snarled. “Come on, Clarke, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know Bellamy hates my guts.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Maybe he did, though. She wasn’t sure how deeply the animosity ran, but . . . yeah, there was definitely no love lost. “There’s just . . . there’s tension between the two of you, for obvious reasons,” she said. “But there doesn’t need to be. I think we can all agree that we want what’s best for Avery. Right?”

Finn didn’t deny that, but he had his response locked and loaded. “What makes you so sure that what’s best for her doesn’t include me?”

Unlike him, she didn’t have an answer ready. To her, it was just so _obvious_. Of course Bellamy was a better dad. Of course he loved her more. “It’s not like I’m trying to just cut you out of her life,” she insisted, trying to evade the question.

“Sure you are.”

When he said stuff like that, it was _really_ hard to empathize at all. “Well, be honest with me. Do you really wanna be there for her?” she challenged.

Finn didn’t say anything to that one. He looked like he was thinking it over.

“It’s okay if you don’t. You’re not obligated,” she said, trying to give him a way out. “That’s why I let you off the hook when I found out I was pregnant.”

“No, you let me off the hook because you found out your boy was back in town,” Finn argued. “And you wanted to get back together with him.”

“No, that’s not . . .” He was out of his mind if he thought that she’d _ever_ considered using an unborn baby to win Bellamy back. “That’s not what happened. I didn’t know Bellamy and I were gonna get back together. I didn’t know he was gonna be willing to step up like this.”

“So he’s stepping up,” Finn said, crossing his arms angrily, “and I’m stepping down? Is that it? He gets to be the hero while I’m the deadbeat?”

“No. No, it’s not like that at all.” Even as she said the words, though, she wondered if it was. “It’s not a competition, okay? Don’t think of it like that.” She could tell by the look on Finn’s face, though, the seriousness in his eyes, that he _was_ thinking of it like that. Maybe part of him did want to get to know Avery, but there was also a part of him that wanted this for himself. Nobody expected him to be a good dad, and he wanted to prove them wrong.

“Listen,” she said, “I’m telling you right here, right now that I don’t expect anything of you.”

“Because I’m so worthless.”

“I didn’t say that.” Now he was just putting words in her mouth, so before she could get too frustrated and lose a handle on the whole conversation, she took a steadying breath and tried the empathy thing again. “Okay, look . . . I feel like you’re getting defensive here, and I understand why you might be; but there’s no reason for that. I’m not holding anything against you, and neither will Avery. I promise. I’ll make sure she grows up and knows that this wasn’t a decision you took lightly.”

“But will she even know me at all?” he wondered out loud. “How much are you gonna tell her about me? Will you ever show her pictures? Let her come visit me? Have you even thought about that?”

Truthfully . . . she hadn’t. At least not extensively. When she thought of Avery’s toddler years, her school years, junior high and high school and beyond . . . it was always Bellamy who was with her. Nobody else. “That would be . . . a decision she has to make,” she answered carefully, not wanting to promise him anything she couldn’t guarantee. “When she’s older.”

He shook his head sadly and said, “What if she doesn’t even wanna know me?”

_Then that’s fine_ , Clarke thought, but she didn’t dare say it. As far as she was concerned, though, it was better than fine. She _hoped_ Avery grew up and didn’t ask a whole lot of questions about her biological father. She hoped she wasn’t one of those kids who needed to find him and get to know him. It’d just be easier.

“I wanna know her, Clarke,” Finn said, sounding genuine. “I know I acted like a jerk at first, like I didn’t care. But now that she’s here and now that I’ve held her . . .”

_Once_ , she thought, narrowing her eyes at him as she got an even greater, more foreboding sense of where this was all going. _You held her once_.

“I wanna see her again. I wanna hold her again,” he said. “She’s just as much a part of me as she is part of you.”

That was only biology, though. It wasn’t as important as the love Bellamy had for her. It didn’t even come close. Feeling the need to start grasping at straws, she actually quoted Charles Pike when she stammered, “I can—I can empathize with your perspective . . .”

“No, you can’t,” Finn snapped. “You see her every day. She’s yours. Nobody’s trying to take her away from you. Nobody’s trying to make someone else into her new mom.”

_Oh, shit_ , she thought, desperately searching for the words to say to get him to change his mind. It had to happen, and it had to happen quickly. Ditching empathy altogether, she decided to try a new tactic. “Okay, let’s just be brutally honest then: Do you wanna provide for her?” she asked heatedly. “Like _really_ provide? I’m talking medical expenses, a college savings fund, paying for her wedding someday, buying all her school supplies. Do you really want all that responsibility?”

Finn didn’t say yes. And to her, that said a lot.

“Or—God forbid—what if something bad happens to her?” she went on. “She gets into an accident and can’t walk or talk. Do you really wanna bear the burden of taking care of her for the rest of her life?” She hated using that word in connection with her daughter, because no matter what, a burden was something she’d never be. “Because I’m willing to do that,” she said, “and Bellamy’s willing. But I really don’t think you are.”

“Oh, you just know me so well, don’t you?” he grumbled.

“Finn, you don’t even know how to change a diaper!” He was kidding himself if he thought he was ready for all of this.

“Because you’ve hardly let me see her!” he yelled back. “How am I supposed to act like a dad when you don’t even give me the chance?”

Although she opened her mouth to respond, the increase in volume must have worried Bellamy, because he opened the front door and walked in, asking, “Everything alright?”

Clarke could barely look at him, because she felt like such a failure. “We’re just talking.”

“No, we’re arguing,” Finn adamantly corrected.

Frustratedly, she threw her hands down at her sides. “Listen, I’m trying to include you, okay? Just like I tried to include you back when I first found out I was pregnant. I told you what was going on, and do you remember what you told me to do?”

“I didn’t tell you to have an abortion. I just brought it up,” he said. “But do you remember a few years earlier when you actually did that?”

Instantly, she felt like she’d been sucker-punched.

With no empathy whatsoever, he glared at her and said, “Or have you forgotten?”

The mere mention of her abortion rendered her speechless, but Bellamy wasn’t having any of it. “Shut the fuck up, alright?” he shouted, positioning himself in front of Clarke. “That doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“You’re gonna come into _my_ house and tell me to shut up?” Finn said, moving in closer.

Bellamy wasn’t intimidated, though. “I’ll shut you up myself if you come at her about that!” he roared, getting right up in Finn’s face.

“Go ahead and try.”

“No, just _stop_ , okay?” Clarke pulled her husband back, because it really seemed like the tension between them was going to boil over, and she wasn’t going to just stand there and let them beat each other up. “God!” She honestly felt upset with both of them in that moment, because they were just egging each other on, and it wasn’t getting them anywhere. The whole conversation had gone from bad to worse, and since it probably wasn’t going to get any better, she said, “Let’s just leave, Bellamy.” He didn’t move, though, so she had to give his hand a tug and say it again. “Please, let’s just leave.”

He clearly didn’t want to. He wanted to stay right there and be the tough guy, wanted to try to _intimidate_ Finn into agreeing to all of this. But it wasn’t a good approach to take, so she had to get him out of there before things got even worse. Luckily, when she headed for the door, he followed her, and when they walked outside, Finn slammed it behind them.

“That son of a bitch,” Bellamy grumbled as he stormed towards the car.

“Why did you do that?” she asked him.

He stopped by the car, and just said, “What?” As if he didn’t know what she was angry about.

“We were talking and . . . I told you not to come in there.” They’d had a plan, one he’d _agreed_ to, so he shouldn’t have deviated from it.

“I thought you might need my help,” he said.

“You _didn’t_ help; you just made things worse.” She moved past him, opened up the passenger’s side door, and plopped down in the seat. “The last thing I need is some macho pissing match between the two of you.”

“Yeah, but he said--”

“Just get in the car. Please?” They didn’t need to argue right out in front of Finn’s house. No need to give him any more ammunition than he now already had.

Bellamy shook his head, clearly upset, and walked around to the other side of the car. He climbed in and wordlessly started it up, but he didn’t pull away from the curb.

“I know what he said, and yeah, it hurt,” she acknowledged. Thinking about _that_ particular choice she’d made was never going to be easy. “But he wasn’t wrong. I did have an abortion. That’s on my track record. He’d be stupid not to use that against me.”

The pain and anguish that gradually began to show on Bellamy’s face . . . it broke her heart. Because even though he hadn’t been the one to make the decision, it was never going to be easy for him, either. She’d caused him hurt that would never truly go away.

“You should’ve just let me handle, it, Bellamy,” she said. “I might’ve been able to make some progress. That’s gonna be a lot harder now. And you can’t threaten him. Oh my _god_. That’s the last thing we need.”

Now that he was calming down, it seemed to be sinking in for Bellamy just how much he’d screwed up just now. If Finn was smart, he’d document all of this, along with every other aggressive thing Bellamy may have ever said to him. “I’m sorry,” Bellamy apologized quietly.

Empathy wasn’t hard where he was concerned. Even though she’d asked him why he’d barged in, she totally understood why he had. He loved her and Avery, and he was protective of his family. He wanted to be their knight in shining armor, but today, he hadn’t been. “Can we just go home now?” she said, sniffing back tears. If she was going to start crying about how poorly that had gone, she didn’t want Finn to be able to look out the window and see her.


	87. Chapter 87

_Chapter 87_

Normally, Bellamy enjoyed the weekends. Who didn’t? But this weekend had already been ruined. And he woke up on Saturday knowing that it was ruined because of him. Because of what a fucking idiot he’d been yesterday.

He woke up on his own, surprised that he’d even managed to fall asleep at all, and reached over to grab his phone and check the time. Wasn’t late. Wasn’t early, either. Time to get up and start the day. And hope that it would be better than the last one.

Clarke’s side of the bed was empty, but he heard her in the bathroom, so he got up and out of bed and joined her in there. She was standing at the sink, rinsing off her toothbrush, and didn’t even look at him when he came in. She didn’t even glance at his reflection in the mirror.

“Hey,” Bellamy said, not sure what else he even _could_ say.

Her response was the most tense and terse “Hey,” he’d ever heard. Which didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation. She already hadn’t spoken to him much last night, and she’d lain far away on the bed.

“You sleep alright?” he asked, trying to at least get her engaged in some small-talk.

“No.” She put her toothbrush back in its holder but kept her eyes downcast as she reached for the floss and pulled a long string out.

“No?” That’d been a stupid question, hadn’t it? Of course she hadn’t slept well. “Me, neither. Couldn’t stop thinking about . . . everything.” He waited, wondering if she might take that segue and run with it, but she seemed dead set on giving him as much of the silent treatment as possible. As much as he didn’t _want_ to talk about it, he knew they had to, and apparently he was going to have to be the one to bring it up. So he started with an apology. “Clarke, I’m sorry.”

Instead of getting to work on her flossing, she stopped what she was doing, gripped the edge of the sink, and said, “Please, I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“I screwed up,” he went on anyway. “I should’ve let you handle it.” All he could do now was really, _really_ hope that Finn didn’t use his outburst against him. Hopefully he wasn’t that smart. “You think you would’ve been able to change his mind if I hadn’t barged in?” he asked her, hating to think that he alone might have been responsible for derailing everything.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“You don’t know?” Surely they would have been better off than they were now, even if she hadn’t been able to get him to change his mind. God, he felt like such a loser. “Well, we should talk to Pike again as soon as we can,” he said, hoping that the guidance of a professional could get them back on the right track.

“I already texted him,” she revealed. “He says he can meet with us Monday at his office.”

Monday . . . that seemed so far away. Bellamy worried that it wasn’t soon enough. Maybe if he called him—because an actual phone call would convey the desperation better than a text would—then maybe he could convince Pike to meet with them today or tomorrow instead. Even though he probably took weekends off, maybe if he knew what had happened . . .

_Or maybe you should just stay out of it this time_ , he thought morosely. If he tried to do something, he’d probably just fuck things up even worse.

“What’re you gonna do today?” he asked her.

She sighed and finally looked up and made eye contact with him. Only through the mirror, but it was better than nothing. “Harper’s teaching a hip hop class. Raven and I promised her we would go,” she answered. “It won’t last all day, just a couple of hours.”

“Hip hop, huh?”

“Yep.” She really didn’t sound like she wanted to go, and she didn’t _look_ excited as she stood there flossing her teeth with almost furious determination.

“You ever done hip hop before?” he asked, trying his best to at least keep some sort of conversation between them going. Even if it was about something as random and pointless as this.

“Not really,” she said.

Hell, any style of dancing was pretty much a foreign concept to him. But even so, he would have gone with her if she’d asked him to. “Well, hopefully it’s fun,” he said.

“Hopefully,” she agreed, tossing her floss into the trashcan next to the sink. “I need to clear my head.” She squeezed past him without another word on her way to the closet, where she would probably just ignore him some more. Not that he could blame her. After all, he was the reason why things in her head and in their lives were so unclear right now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke felt like she was a step behind before Harper even counted, “Five, six, seven, eight!” to start them off. She eyed Raven out of the periphery of her vision because she couldn’t even remember what the first move was. Just the sassy walk forward, apparently, as Harper yelled over the music, “Stomp one, two, three four! Hit-hit six, seven, eight!” Clarke couldn’t even remember _what_ the hit-hit part was supposed to be, so of course she didn’t hit it. She did manage to fake her way through it, kind of, but when they got closer to the newest part, she basically just moved her hips and threw her arms around a bit, because every single eight-count had left her head. Why the hell had she let Raven convince her to stand in the front? She saw in the mirror that there were several girls behind her doing way better.

“Good job!” Harper complimented them excitedly, pausing the music. “That was great, girls.”

Clarke wiped the sweat off her forehead, feeling gross in addition to feeling lost.

“Alright, we’re gonna take a five minute break and then learn the rest,” Harper told them, “so grab some water, hit the bathroom, do whatever you need to do.”

Everyone was breathing heavily as they scattered throughout the studio room, everyone except Raven, who barely seemed to be out of breath. She also was _glistening_ more than sweating, which just wasn’t even fair. And her abs looked amazing in the outfit she was wearing. Clarke wished she could have just done a sports bra and leggings, but her boobs would have fallen right out, and her mid-section just wasn’t as muscled. Never had been.

“I need to sit,” she said, holding her side as she limped to the nearest chair. “I was _not_ ready for this.”

“You’re doing fine,” Raven assured her. She stayed standing while Clarke took a seat.

“No, _you’re_ doing fine. You can definitely tell which one of us stuck with cheer and which one quit.”

Harper skipped over to them, a big, excited smile on her face, and bubbled, “So . . . what do you guys think?”

“It’s fun,” Raven said. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Thanks. Everyone’s . . . kinda catching on.”

Clarke snorted and grumbled, “Not me.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Harper said. “You had a baby two months ago.”

“Yeah, and you still look better than all these other girls,” Raven added quietly. “That’s the real tea.”

As much as Clarke appreciated her attempts to make her feel better, she still felt down in the dumps. And honestly, it had very little to do with the dancing or even how she looked in her workout gear. She looked . . . fine. And it wasn’t like she was going to go perform this dance anywhere after all of this. She was here solely to support one of her closest friends, so not catching on wasn’t really a serious thing. It was everything outside of this, though, the stuff back home, that was super serious.

“Hey, Harper, can you help me with this part?” one girl asked. She must not have even taken a drink break. She was one of the really good ones, even better than Raven, so maybe she was a dance major or something. She seemed determined to learn and perfect the whole routine.

“Sure,” Harper said. She glanced back at Raven and Clarke and said, “Duty calls,” before leaving them to go help her student.

_I don’t wanna be here_ , Clarke thought, closing her eyes for a moment. It wasn’t Harper’s fault. As far as dance classes went, it was one of the better ones she’d ever been to. The choreography was fun and fit really well with the music. Harper was a good teacher. But it just seemed so pointless for her to be there when there was so much else going on in her life.

“Clarke, you okay?” Raven asked, sounding concerned.

“No,” she admitted. There was no disguising it.

“You need some water?”

She shook her head, feeling more tired than she was thirsty. Physically, mentally, emotionally . . . she was just drained.

Raven sat down beside her, inquiring, “What’s wrong?”

Tears stung her eyes, but she tried to wipe them away, because she didn’t want Harper to see her and become worried about her on a day like this. “Honeymoon’s over,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

Maye that’d been a little over-dramatic, but it was hard not to notice how stressful things had been since they’d gotten back home. “I just wish we were back in California out on the beach,” she said, picturing it in her head. “I felt like nothing could go wrong there. Everything was perfect. And now . . .” She trailed off, reluctant to divulge too much right here with so many other people not far out of earshot.

Reaching over to rub her back, Raven asked, “What happened?”

“It’s just . . . this adoption thing,” she said. “It’s so stressful.”

Raven’s worried face turned into a sad one. “Is Finn . . . disputing it?” she questioned quietly.

“Yeah.” She kind of hated him a little bit for that. Even if he had the legal right to contest her decision, what made him think he had the moral right to do so?

“Why?” Raven asked.

“I don’t know. It’s like he’s got this chip on his shoulder.” She truly wondered how much of this had to do with him wanting to know Avery and how much had to do with him wanting to feel better about himself.

“Well, it’ll all work out,” Raven said. “I know it will.”

_It has to_ , Clarke thought, glancing at her reflection in the big studio mirrors. She was alarmed to see just how worried she looked. _It just has to._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Whenever Bellamy needed to calm down, he liked to just go sit in the nursery with Avery. Whether she was awake and playing or asleep like she was now, he found comfort in just being around her. Sometimes he just watched her, and sometimes he talked to her.

Holding her in his arms, he watched her little mouth move as she let out a tiny burp while she slept. Even though there was a lot of shit going on around her, she was blissfully oblivious to it all, too young to understand. And he was thankful for that, because she deserved to be taken care of and adored and not have to deal with anything confusing or dramatic ever in her life. Of course she would, someday, but today didn’t have to be that day. He could shield her from the world for a little while.

“Daddy screwed up yesterday, sweetheart,” he said apologetically, glad that she wasn’t old enough to be mad at him about what he’d done. Sighing heavily, disappointed in himself, he mumbled, “Not the first time I made a mess of things.”

****

_The B+ on the top of his essay still didn’t seem real to Bellamy. He’d never done that well on an essay before. But then again, he’d never worked quite as hard on one, either._

_“I’m so proud of you, Bellamy,” Gina said as they made their way down the sidewalk towards his dorm. “Really, I am. You’re crushing it.”_

_“Only ‘cause of you,” he said, folding his essay and putting it in his backpack._

_“No, because of_ you,” _she insisted. “You’re the one who’s put in the work. I’m just helping.”_

_That was nice of her to give him the majority of the credit, but she was working some magic as his unofficial tutor. No offense to Monty, but he’d never been able to get results out of him like this._

_“Seriously, though, did you ever imagine you’d come to college and get such good grades?” Gina said excitedly. “This is so awesome.”_

_It was, so he took his phone out to text his mom about it, knowing she’d be thrilled. He saw that he had a notification letting him know that one of the few Twitter accounts he followed had updated, though. The Arkadia high school one. He thought it might be something football-related, so he checked their Twitter page and saw that it was about the Quiz Bowl team. Something he’d never taken part in and hadn’t even known existed, to be honest. He wouldn’t have even bothered reading the tweet if it wasn’t for the picture that accompanied it. It was a photo of a small group of students, all dressed up in business-casual clothes, standing up on the stage of some other high school holding a plaque. And Clarke was in that picture, even though she hadn’t been on that team last year. Back row, big smile on her face. Standing next to Wells Jaha._

_“I mean, to be honest, I’m even a little jealous,” Gina went on. “You scored higher than me.”_

_Clarke looked . . . happy. Which was good. Wasn’t it? He wanted her to be happy._

_So why did he suddenly feel like crap then?_

_“Bellamy?” Gina said, trying to get his attention back._

_“Oh, sorry. Sorry.” He put his phone away, but he kept seeing that picture in his mind. “Had to check something.”_

_“Yeah, I noticed.”_

_He wasn’t even sure what there was to check. It was a standard group photo. Wells hadn’t even had his arm around Clarke or anything like that. But if they were on that team together, then they were probably spending more time together again. If they hadn’t already started dating again, maybe they would. It’d be easy for them to be together. Her parents liked Wells, after all. Wells was a good, clean-cut guy. Wells was bound to be successful._

_“Well, I’m sure you’ve got plans with your friends tonight,” she said, slowing down as they got closer to his dorm, “so . . . I guess I’ll see you Monday?”_

_“Yeah.” They studied after class on Mondays. Seemed to be working out well for them. Probably no need to change that now._

_Gina looked like she wanted to say something else, or maybe she wanted_ him _to say something, but since neither of them did, she just sort of started to walk away awkwardly. He let her take a few steps before her blurted out, “Actually . . . you wanna go out?”_

_She completely stopped and turned back around, looking surprised. “Go out where?”_

_“I don’t know. Just anywhere.” They spent so much time in the library or the tutoring center, but they never actually went out and did anything fun. Clarke was having fun, or so it seemed by that picture. So maybe it was time for him to have some fun, too._

_“Okay,” Gina said with barely a pause. Her eagerness to spend her Friday night with him . . . it said a lot. The flirtatious look on her face said just as much. He knew she’d been waiting for him to ask her out, hoping. But he’d never planned on actually doing it._

_They didn’t end up doing anything particularly revolutionary or fancy. Just dinner and movie, but the food was good, and the movie . . . well, it didn’t really hold his interest. He’d let Gina pick it, and she’d gone for one of those historical epics. Which, normally, he would have enjoyed, but . . . even in the midst of watching a World War II battle scene, his mind kept going back to Clarke._

_After the movie, they stopped and got ice cream, and then they headed back to campus that night. They didn’t really talk about where they were going, but they ended up back at his place. Gina had never been in his dorm room before, but she got on the elevator with him and walked down the hall. He knew his roommate had gone home for the weekend, so they’d be alone if they went inside._

_“Well, that was fun,” she said._

_“Yeah.” If he’d been a little more present, he probably would have had a better time._

_“We should do it again sometime,” she suggested._

_He just . . . kind of halfway nodded? Fuck, what was he even doing?_

_They got to his room, and he stopped, not sure where to go from here. Did he invite her in? Just tell her goodnight? Invite to walk her out to her car?_

_“Listen, Bellamy,” she said, “at the risk of jeopardizing our . . . friendship or whatever this is . . . I have to ask . . .” She drew it out for a long time, probably nervous as hell to ask. “Was this a date?”_

_Was it? Hell if he knew anymore._

_“No, forget I asked that,” she said quickly. “I don’t wanna ruin anything. We’ve got a good thing going, and I know guys like you aren’t usually interested in girls like me, so--”_

_He silenced her suddenly with a kiss. Didn’t even think twice about what he was doing. He just did it. And it seemed to shock her._

_“Bellamy?” she whispered questioningly when he pulled away._

_Even though he sort of felt like they were speeding straight ahead without seatbelts on, he found himself saying, “Stay a while.” And of course that brought a smile to her face. Of course it did._

_They kissed again, this time on their way into his room. He slid his key card into the lock, pushed the door open, and dragged her in there with him. She laughed a little and just seemed so damn happy._

_He didn’t_ feel _happy, though. Mostly, he just felt confused, but he didn’t want to dwell on that while he was kissing a girl who really liked him, so he tried to shut his whole mind off and just not think. He drowned himself in the physical sensations of it all. Her hands on his chest after he’d stripped off his shirt. The bra clasp on her back that he fumbled to unhook. Her heart, beating so fast as he laid down on top of her and settled himself between her legs._

_He wasn’t sure how long they went at it, but he made sure to go down on her because . . . he felt like it was the least he could do. He hadn’t intended for her to do the same to him, but . . . she did. He got off on it. Hell, they both did. And they didn’t stop there. He had plenty of condoms, so he put one on, asked her if she was sure, and when she said she was, he pushed inside her. She must not have taken anyone his size before, because she grimaced. He thought about stopping, and he actually would have stopped if she hadn’t told him to keep going. She wanted this, wanted_ him.

_Afterward, Gina fell asleep. But Bellamy didn’t. He lay on his back, eyes open in the dark room, thinking about what had just happened. Or more accurately, what he’d_ done. _The sex hadn’t been bad at all, but lying there afterward was awful. His mind was back on, thinking about too many things at once now. Whenever he glanced at Gina, squeezed into that small twin bed with him, he couldn’t even appreciate how pretty she looked. Prettier than he’d ever noticed, honestly. She was a really good girl, but . . . he was just used to seeing blonde hair sprawled out next to him. He was used to feeling a curvier body._

_She wasn’t Clarke._

_The most frustrating thing was, even now, he couldn’t let it_ just _be about Gina. He felt horrible for giving her the wrong idea, leading her on by sleeping with her like this, but he also felt like . . . like he’d betrayed Clarke, in a way. Almost like he’d cheated on her. He hadn’t, of course. Not really. They weren’t even together. She could sleep with Wells or any other guy she wanted to. In fact, she was probably getting plenty of offers. So he had every right to move on and sleep with someone else, too. It’d been months. Months of not seeing her, not talking, not even texting. They weren’t in each other’s lives anymore. He couldn’t just be hung up on her forever._

_Bellamy wasn’t sure how he was supposed to lie there with Gina all night, so at first he was relieved when she started to move around a little. But his relief quickly turned to dread when she tried to snuggle against his side. “Mmm,” she purred contentedly. “Never knew a dorm bed could be so comfy.”_

_Her hand came to rest on his chest, and underneath the covers, she tried to drape her legs over his. He couldn’t reciprocate, though, couldn’t touch her back with the same type of affection, so he slipped out of the bed and immediately went over to his dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants out of the drawer._

_“Come back here,” she said, patting the space he’d occupied on the mattress. “You’re warm.”_

No, I’m not, _he thought guiltily. If anything, tonight he’d been ice cold. She had no idea, though, did she? To her, they’d really connected, and now they were closer than ever._

_He couldn’t let her keep thinking that. It wasn’t fair to her. She deserved better._

_“Gina, we need to talk,” he said, hating that he was about to hurt her._

_“About what?” she asked. She didn’t sound worried yet._

_“This,” he said. “Us.”_

_Slowly, she sat up, concern now spreading across her face. “What do you mean?” she asked, holding the sheets to her chest. “Was I not . . . was I not good?”_

_“You were great,” he assured her. Really, she hadn’t done_ anything _wrong._

_“It was good, right?” she said, trying to smile. “I thought it was good.”_

_He couldn’t lie to her and say that it was amazing. But that wasn’t her fault. This one was all on him. “It’s just . . . this was a mistake,” he said, knowing that each word was just going to feel like an even bigger knife in the gut to her._

_“No, it wasn’t,” she said. “We’re both two consenting adults, and we like each other, so . . .” She trailed off, almost as if she were waiting for him to agree with her. When he didn’t, her voice got really quiet as she asked, “We_ do _like each other, right?”_

_He winced internally, wishing there was a way to do this without being cruel to her. But he’d already been cruel. “Yeah, I like you,” he said. “We’re friends. And . . . I think it’s better if we’re_ just _friends.”_

_Even though the room was dark, he was able to see the huge frown that found its way to her face. “Then why did you sleep with me?” she asked, a mixture of sadness and anger in her voice._

_“I don’t know,” he admitted. He shouldn’t have. He didn’t wanna be that type of guy._

_“Oh my god.” Scrambling out of bed, she started to collect her clothes, all the while trying to cover herself up with his bedsheets._

_“Look, I’m sorry,” he apologized sincerely._

_“You’re_ sorry?” _she resounded. “For using me?”_

_“No, I didn’t--”_

_“You did,” she cut back in, yanking on her clothing. “This was just sex to you. You just wanted to get laid, and I was around and all too willing.”_

_“No, don’t blame yourself,” he said._

_“Oh, I don’t,” she said. “I blame you. How could you do this to me?”_

_He opened his mouth to say something, but he was at a loss for words. Nothing he could say would make her feel any better._

_“In case you haven’t noticed, I have feelings for you, Bellamy. Strong feelings,” she said, crying now. “And tonight, I thought maybe finally . . .” She sniffed back tears and shook her head. “But I guess I thought wrong.”_

_Shit. It would’ve been bad enough if he’d taken some random girl out on a date and hooked up with her, but Gina? She was genuinely his friend. One of the only good people he knew here. “It’s just . . . I don’t really wanna be in a relationship right now,” he said, trying to be honest without being too detailed, without going into detail about the ex-girlfriend he couldn’t get over. “I’m sorry I let things go so far. I screwed up. But I have to be honest with you. I don’t wanna lead you on.”_

_She choked out a devastated laugh and understandably didn’t accept one word of that apology. “You already did,” she growled, grabbing her shoes. Without even putting them on, she fled the room, and he heard her crying as she ran down the hall. She’d held it together with him, focused on being angry and giving him a piece of her mind. But she’d probably go home and break down about this all night, because she was heartbroken. And it was all his fault._

****

As much as he loved holding his daughter—probably could’ve done that forever—when Bellamy heard the front door open, he knew Clarke was home; so he put Avery back down in her crib, made sure she looked comfortable, and then hustled downstairs to see his wife. The same wife who hadn’t spoken to him very much in almost twenty-four hours.

Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and just looked at her. Lots of her hair had fallen out of its ponytail, and most of the makeup she’d put on that morning was gone. She still looked pretty, though. Prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“Hey, Princess,” he said, wishing he could make it sound lighthearted and flirtatious. Not right now, though. Not when things were so up in the air.

“Hey,” she said, actually making eye contact with him. At least that was an improvement from this morning when it seemed like she hadn’t even wanted to look at him.

“You’re home early,” he said as he walked the rest of the way down the stairs.

“I left early.”

He couldn’t help but notice that she had a brown paper sack in her hand, one that had a McDonald’s logo on it. “And you stopped and got food,” he noted.

“Yeah.”

He nodded, waiting a moment before mumbling, “I made lunch.” It wasn’t much. He’d just browned up some taco meet, but still . . .

“Oh,” she said, her expression changing into an almost sympathetic one. “Well, maybe I can just put this in the fridge and eat it later.”

“No, you know what? I’m a crap cook anyway,” he said, trying to downplay the ridiculous amount of embarrassment he felt as he walked briskly into the kitchen. What did it even matter? It was just food. “Let’s just get rid of this stuff,” he said, pulling open the fridge, where he’d dumped all the taco meat into a plastic bowl. He took the lid off and pulled out the trash can to dump it.

“No, Bellamy . . .” She took a few steps towards the kitchen, but it didn’t matter. The taco meat was gone. She sighed, set her fast food bag down on the counter, and commented, “We’re off.”

He shoved the trash can back underneath the sink and put the now empty bowl down in the basin. “Yeah,” he agreed. Something so little like this felt so big in that moment, even though it wasn’t.

“We need to fix it,” she said. “I don’t like this.”

He didn’t, either. Usually things between Clarke and him were just so . . . smooth. They were both so used to things being natural and effortless. They didn’t have to _work_ to communicate because . . . hell, they were married now. It was usually easy. “It’s my fault,” he said, deciding he’d shoulder the blame for this one. If he hadn’t barged in yesterday . . .

“No, it’s—it’s no one’s fault,” she said, coming closer to him. “This is a stressful time for both of us. And I’m not helping by being so grumpy.”

“No, you can be as mad as you want,” he told her, still pretty mad at himself. “I fucked up yesterday. What if Finn tries to make me seem like some violent maniac now?”

“You’ve got plenty of people who can attest that you’re not,” she said. “Most of all, me.”

He looked down at the ground, almost wishing she wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. “Sometimes I just feel like such a loser, Clarke,” he admitted.

“You’re not.” Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and urged, “Hey, look at me.”

He did, and when he saw the sincerity and the love in her eyes . . . it _did_ make him feel better.

“You’re Bellamy Blake,” she said, smiling softly. “You’re the best man I know.”

That made him feel better, too, but he still didn’t like he deserved to feel all that good. “Yeah, but you married me. You’re, like, required to say that.”

“Well, I married you because it’s true,” she said. “And I’m saying it because you look like you could use the reminder.”

He sighed, slowly nodding. He did need all of this. Even if he didn’t exactly deserve it, he needed it. “I don’t know how you’ve done it,” he said, putting his hands on her waist.

“What?” she asked.

“Be so strong about all of this.”

She averted her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. “I’m not strong. I actually started crying today.”

That explained the lack of makeup then. He’d been afraid that that was why it was gone.

“I just wanted this to be easy,” she said, fresh tears shimmering in her eyes. “But so far it hasn’t been, so . . .” Trailing off, she shut her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again and gazed at him almost pleadingly. “Can you just kiss me, Bellamy?”

There was a lot he couldn’t do, but that right there was one thing he knew he could still do well. Even if he screwed everything else up, he could give her the kind of kiss that let her know just how much he loved her. So that was exactly what he did. It was the long, drawn-out kind, nothing too forceful. He brought her in close and kind of just held her there, even as he slowly pulled his mouth away from hers.

“Bellamy,” she whispered. “My head didn’t get cleared today.”

Of course it hadn’t. Neither had his. And they wouldn’t be clear until all of this was finally over. But in the meantime . . . “Need some help with that?” he offered. At the very least, they could try to think about something else for a little while.

Maybe that was how they ended up stripping off each other’s clothes right there in the kitchen. Having sex in that moment . . . it wasn’t just the typical desire. It was legitimate _need_. He felt like he _needed_ to pick her up in his arms and carry her over to the couch, lying her down so he could get on top of her. She must have _needed_ to feel him inside her, because she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in tightly. As their bodies moved and melded together, it started to feel like they’d managed to escape reality and go into their own little world where nothing bad could happen. At least for a little while.


	88. Chapter 88

_Chapter 88_

The morning felt different than the last one. Different in a good way. Bellamy noticed it from the second he woke up, because unlike yesterday, he wasn’t lying in that bed alone. He had his girl in his arms, and she had her head and her hands on his chest. Seemed like she was still sleeping.

_So pretty_ , Bellamy thought, glad that she was the sight that was starting out his day. Clarke never thought she looked that good in the morning, but she did. She always did.

He’d been so careful not to move, but she must have felt a difference in the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed or something, because she stirred a bit and let out a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said back, clasping her hand with his own. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I was only halfway sleeping,” she said, though she kept her eyes closed and remained snuggled with him. “You’re comfy.”

He’d always enjoyed being her human pillow. Sure, there were nights when it was too hot or they were too restless and cuddling wasn’t in the cards for them, but it felt good to fall asleep holding her, and to wake up doing the same. “This is better than yesterday morning,” he said, letting his eyes fall closed again, too, just in case they might be able to fall back asleep for a while.

“Well, it’s gonna be a better day,” she declared.

He hoped she really believed that and wasn’t just saying it to try to make him feel good. Surely waking up like this had to feel better to her, too.

That day, they both decided that they wouldn’t talk about everything that was going on with Finn. They would just spend time together and time with Avery. Family stuff. First, they took her out on the beach and played with her in the sand. She still didn’t have much bodily control, so they had to prop her up, but she giggled when Clarke sprinkled some sand on her legs, and she seemed to like the feel of the water lapping at her little feet.

After that, they took her inside and gave her a bath. Bellamy couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that doing something so simple was one of his favorite things in the whole world. Back when he was younger, he never would have thought that he’d enjoy this so much, but he did. The look on her face as she sat in her little flower tub, warm water drizzling steadily onto her, just made _everything_ light up for him. She loved her baths.

That night, Clarke fell asleep next to him in the bed watching TV, and Avery dozed atop him. With his wife curled up into his side and his daughter drooling on his chest, he felt a feeling of utter contentedness. He didn’t even have to be _doing_ anything to just be happy with them. It made him wonder why he’d ever wasted time with anything else. Because to him, this was the dream.

****

_What a fucking nightmare the day was shaping up to be. First, Bellamy had slept in, so he’d missed two classes, one of which had a professor with a stick up his ass who would surely chew him out for it and hold it against him for the rest of the semester. Then he’d dropped his phone while scrambling to get ready and at least get to class for the last fifteen minutes, so now the damn screen had a huge crack in it, and he’d probably end up having to shell out money for a new one. And, of course, lingering in the back of his mind constantly was his unbelievable fuck-up with Gina. He’d tried calling and texting her the past few days, but she wasn’t responding. And he couldn’t blame her. Still, though, he wanted to have a conversation with her. He_ needed _to._

_On a day when he knew he’d find her in the tutoring center, he ventured in, found her helping some girl on what appeared to be an essay, and marched right up to her. “Gina,” he said. “Can we talk?”_

_She barely glance at him and dismissively answered, “I’m working.”_

_If she didn’t give him the chance to apologize to her, to try to set things right somehow, he was just gonna keep feeling like shit. Back in high school, he’d never felt all that guilty about sleeping with multiple girls, because everyone had known he wasn’t the type to settle down. But now that he’d finally fucking grown up a little, the guilt he felt over this was unbearable._

_“Do you have a couple minutes?” he practically begged._

_“Not for you,” she muttered._

_“Please.”_

_“It’s fine,” the girl who she was assisting assured her. “I think I can take it from here.”_

_Gina obviously didn’t want to have to talk to him. Her whole body stiffened, and she growled, “Fine. Three minutes. Three minutes for you to try to make yourself feel better.”_

_“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he denied, following her away from the students. Although . . ._

_“Isn’t it?” she challenged. “You don’t really care about me. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”_

_“No, I do.” Maybe he was trying to alleviate his own guilt, but apologizing to her might make her feel better about things, too, so it was a win-win._

_“Well, you have a funny way of showing it,” she snarled. “Just tell me one thing: Why me? God knows you’ve got plenty of girls on this campus who would be willing to sleep with you. Or any football player, for that matter.”_

_She was right. He did. Lots of the guys on the team did. In fact, he was one of the only ones who_ wasn’t _hooking up with a different girl almost every single night._

_“So why use me?” she asked again._

_His gut answer—that she’d just been there and been willing—wasn’t going to make her feel any better, so he didn’t say it. “I didn’t mean to . . . use you,” he said._

_She rolled her eyes._

_“I didn’t,” he insisted. “Look, that night, I was . . . I wasn’t thinking. I was upset about something back home, and--”_

_“What?” she cut in._

_“Huh?”_

_“What were you upset about?”_

_He thought back to that picture of Clarke with Wells, and it seemed so stupid to be jealous about it now. She’d just been standing next to him. In a_ group _photo. She was living her life, being a junior in high school. What else was she supposed to do? “It’s nothing,” he said, trying to downplay it._

_“Oh, well, clearly it’s something, and I deserve to know.”_

_Maybe she deserved it, but did she really_ want _to know? He sure as hell didn’t want to tell her, because it was going to make him seem like an even bigger jackass than he’d already been to her. But if there was one thing he owed her now, it was honesty, so he sucked it up and told her, “There’s a girl back home who I used to date, and . . . I just started to feel like she was moving on, and it fucked me up. So I tried to move on, too.”_

_Tears started to form in her eyes, and her bottom lip shook as though she were trying to keep from crying. “So it really didn’t even have anything to do with me then, huh?” she said. “I was just . . . convenient? God, that’s even worse.”_

_“I feel horrible,” he said. “I wanna make it up to you.”_

_“You can’t,” she said._

_“I know, but . . . you don’t deserve to be anyone’s rebound.” Gina was a great girl, and she deserved a guy who would treat her like . . . well, like a princess._

_“You’re right,” she said, blinking her tears back. “I do deserve better than you. Which is why this is the last conversation we’re gonna have.”_

_He’d assumed as much, because it’d be pretty hard to still be friends after something like this. He’d miss the friendship he had with her, though. He kept people at a distance here, but she was the one he’d grown closest to. Those guys on the team . . . they weren’t real friends, and she was._

_“I will get over this, Bellamy, in time,” she said. “I’ll probably even forgive you. But I don’t wanna talk to you anymore. I don’t want anything to do with you.”_

_Where did that leave him then? She was the one who made sure he stayed on top of everything in his classes. She was the one who’d been keeping him grounded while Brady and all those guys walked around campus acting like they were gods. He didn’t wanna end up like them. “We can still be friends,” he told her, just wanting to give her that option._

_“No, we can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Because you don’t really care about me. You only care about . . . her. Whoever she is.” Sadly, she turned and walked away, and it felt . . . very final. Like this was truly the last conversation they were going to have. And he couldn’t even think of anything else to say, because now all he was doing was thinking about Clarke again. Saying that he_ cared _about Clarke was . . . a massive understatement. Gina didn’t know anything about the ‘her’ she was referring to. But he was beginning to realize that Clarke Griffin, quite possibly, was the love of his life._

****

Bellamy woke up that morning not to the sound of his alarm or his baby crying, but to the sound of Clarke talking quietly on her phone.

“Okay,” she was saying. “Okay, thanks for letting us know.”

He rolled over onto his back, yawned, and asked, “What was that?”

“Um, Pike’s secretary,” she said, setting her phone back down on the nightstand. “He’s sick. We have to postpone today’s meeting.”

_You gotta be fucking kidding me_ , he thought, looking up at the ceiling, frustrated as hell.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, reaching over to put one hand on his chest. “We don’t wanna be around someone who’s sick and then get Avery sick, too.”

“I just feel like we don’t have any time to waste,” he said. “When’s it gonna be now, tomorrow?”

“Maybe. She didn’t say. I’m sure we’re not the only clients they need to reschedule.”

“Yeah, but we need to be high priority,” he said. “Did you tell her that? Did you explain what’s going on?”

“She knows.”

He glanced over at his phone, thinking he might call Pike’s office himself just to stress how soon this meeting needed to happen.

“Look, we just have to stay calm,” she said, lying back down beside him. “Like we were yesterday. Yesterday was a good day, right?”

He managed to relax a little as she draped one of her legs over his and wrapped one arm over his stomach. “It was a great day,” he agreed.

“And today can be a great day, too.”

It could be, even though they both had some errands to run and he had an afternoon practice scheduled. He could still make sure he was able to spend some time with both of his girls. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, not sure how she was managing to keep herself calm _and_ keep him calm, too. It was a lot to ask of her, and he actually felt kind of bad for not being stronger. Once this was all over, though, he wasn’t gonna be like this anymore, and she wouldn’t have to keep being strong for both of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Madi came by that afternoon for her first official music lesson, and she decided to start out on the piano. The plan was to learn a little piano and a little guitar, and then after a couple months of practicing both, she could see which one she liked better and start focusing on that. Or that was her parents’ plan, at least. Madi made it clear that she was only doing this because they were making her, because they wanted her to have a creative hobby in her life.

“Okay, play those chords again,” Clarke told her after they’d learned a few of the basics. 

Madi positioned her fingers on the keys and pressed down, cringing when it made an incorrect sound.

“Nope, your finger should be here,” Clarke said, repositioning her pinky finger for her.

“Oh.” Madi pressed the keys down again, smiling a bit when it made a much more pleasing sound.

“Yeah, that sounds better, doesn’t it?”

“Lots.” She played that chord again, then switched to another one. It took her a few seconds to get her fingers arranged just right, but she did it. The girl was a quick learner.

Unfortunately, the piano wasn’t the only thing making sounds. Clarke heard a telltale gurgle from Avery in her nursery and just knew that she was about to start crying. She was already up and on her feet when it began. “Okay, keep working on those,” she told Madi. “I’m gonna go check on her.”

“Kay.” Madi kept switching back and forth between the chords she’d been taught, very concentrated and focused. It kind of looked like she was actually enjoying herself.

Clarke shut the door to the nursery once she was inside and scooped her baby up out of the crib. “Oh, sweetie, I know you want attention,” she said, gently patting her back, hoping that she was just gassy and not hungry. “But don’t you know Mommy’s trying to work? With her one and only student.”

Avery just kept crying. Despite being a pretty angelic kid all in all, she had her moments like these from time to time.

Eventually, Clarke was able to get her to burp, and her crying let up a bit, but when she tried to place her back down in the crib, she squirmed and kicked her legs as much as she could, wanting none of that. So Clarke lifted her up again and brought her out to Madi and the piano. “Sorry, she’s being fussy,” she said, sitting back down on the chair next to the piano bench. She put Avery in her lap and suggested, “Maybe your playing can soothe her.”

Madi snorted. “Doubt it.” Still, she kept pressing those chords down, alternating pretty seamlessly now.

“That sounds good,” Clarke told her. “Look at you go. You got it now.”

“Getting better,” Madi said modestly. She struck Clarke as the type of kid who was hard on herself. If she wasn’t great at something right from the start, it just fueled her to improve.

“I think you might be a natural,” Clarke told her. Although selfishly, if Madi was a natural at the guitar, too, and decided she wanted to focus on that instead, she’d be fine with it, because she felt so much more confident in her guitar abilities.

Madi took her hands off the piano and looked over at Avery, half-smiling as she remarked, “She’s really cute.”

“Thanks.” Cutest baby in the world, as far as Clarke was concerned. Although she was definitely biased.

“What’s her name?” Madi asked.

“Avery.”

“That’s pretty,” Madi said. “I hate my name.”

“Why?” Clarke asked her. “It’s so popular.”

“That’s why I hate it. In school, there’s three Madis in my class, and they’re all spelled differently, too, so whenever my teacher writes my name on something, she always spells it wrong,” her student explained. “And whenever anyone talks about us, it’s like, ‘Maddie F., Madi S., Maddy J.’” She made a face and mumbled, “I can’t stand Maddy J.”

“Yeah, I never had to deal with that,” Clarke said. Although when she was younger, she’d had plenty of kids tease her about having a ‘boy name.’ “Neither did my husband.”

“Bellamy, right?” Madi said. “That’s a cool name.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. It was definitely unique, but it suited him.

“Where is he anyway?” Madi asked.

“At football practice,” she replied.

“Is he a good coach?”

“Oh, yeah.” She’d observed a few practices over the past couple months, and even to her untrained eye, it just _looked_ like the team was getting better. “And he’s an even better dad. Isn’t that right, Avery?” She bounced her daughter up and down gently, glad that the crying seemed to have faded completely now.

Madi smiled at the baby again, then put her hands back on the piano, taking a moment to arrange her fingers on the correct keys. “She looks a lot like you,” she commented. “She doesn’t really look like him, though.”

Clarke’s whole body stiffened. Even though she knew Madi didn’t mean anything bad by that, it made her _feel_ bad. And she was so glad Bellamy wasn’t around to hear it. But someday, he would be. Someday, someone would make that same sort of comment, not even realizing that they were being insensitive.

“Let’s hear those chords again,” she said quickly, determined not to dwell on it as she shifted the focus back to the piano lesson.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The more Bellamy watched the backups, who were mainly freshmen and sophomores, the more convinced he became that those were the guys who needed to make up the majority of his starting lineup by the time the first game rolled around in August. Unlike the upperclassmen, they were actually willing to work hard and make changes. Either those juniors and seniors were just complacent, or they’d had so many years of bad coaching that they just couldn’t change the way they played to be more effective. He had the guys play a quick scrimmage at the end of the practice, and even though the backups didn’t win, they got really close, closer than they should’ve.

After practice, the sophomore quarterback, Spencer, came up to him and asked, “Am I gettin’ any better?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy readily replied.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not bull-shittin’ you. You’re gettin’ a better read on the defense, you’re arm’s gettin’ stronger. Good job.”

Spencer seemed happy to hear that. He said, “Thanks,” and to his credit, he didn’t press Bellamy on if he was in the running to be the starter. But Bellamy knew that he was.

“Go shower off,” he told the kid. “You stink.”

Spencer chuckled and trotted off after the rest of the guys, leaving Bellamy alone out on the field. Miller had had to leave early for his other job, so he didn’t have anyone to run a few laps with. So he took off on his own, not sure if he’d just do two laps or if he’d try for a quick mile.

The first lap was typical enough. He pushed his own pace, treating it more like a long sprint. But by the time he started the second lap, even though his body was still holding up fine, his mind started to drift. No longer was he thinking about putting one foot in front of the other. His own thoughts and worries started to attack him, each one of them centered on Finn Collins. He thought back to confronting Finn at the hospital, not allowing him to come inside to see the baby. He thought about blowing up at him the other day in his failed attempt to be Clarke’s knight in shining armor. What if everything he’d done so far with that guy had been a mistake?

When he got to the third lap, his thoughts turned into fears. He found himself picturing Finn with Avery, holding her, playing with her, giving her a bath. Everything that he was doing, he pictured Finn doing it instead. He couldn’t get those fears out of his mind. They were wedged so far in there that he felt his heart start to pound, and it started to get harder for him to breathe. Even though he only had one lap left for a mile, he called it quits at the end of the third one, bending down to put his hands on his knees as he gasped for air. Even though he’d stopped running, for some reason, he still felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. His heart was beating so fast, he thought he might be having a heart attack.

_Get it together_ , he told himself, closing his eyes as he pictured himself with Avery instead. Just him and his daughter. _His_ daughter.

Gradually, his breathing started to return to normal, and his heartrate steadied out. He stood up straight, put his hands behind his head, and took in labored breaths that only felt like the result of his running now. Not . . . whatever that had been.

After leaving the school that afternoon, he decided to stop by Octavia’s place. Just because he still felt kind of on edge, and he wanted to calm down further before returning home. He told her about what had happened, nonchalantly, because chances were, it was a one-time thing, no big deal. He couldn’t tell if she was really listening or only sort of listening, because she was sitting at her kitchen table painting her nails.

“So have you ever had that happen before,” he asked her, “where you just feel like you can’t catch your breath?”

“Yeah,” she said. But then she tacked on mischievous grin and added, “But not because of running.”

“Don’t.” He really didn’t need to become sick to his stomach on top of everything else.

“What can I say?” She shrugged proudly. “Lincoln really knows how to--”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he cut her off.

“Fine, fine,” she sighed. “Relax. You probably just overheated.”

“No, I don’t think so.” It hadn’t even been very hot out today. “Maybe I just pushed myself too hard.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “You’re not as young as you used to be. Old man.”

He couldn’t even throw a teasing insult back at her, because he was so fucking tense. “It was just weird,” he said, feeling like he was working hard to convince himself that it was no big deal than he was to convince her.

“Well, sometimes people can’t breathe when they have panic attacks,” she said.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t panicking.” Yeah, he’d been thinking about shit, but . . . not panicking.

“You said you’ve been feeling stressed, though,” she noted. “So maybe that’s it.”

“What, like anxiety?”

“Yeah. Lots of people have it.”

“I don’t,” he denied.

“Maybe you do,” she said. “Didn’t Mom take medicine for that when we were kids?”

“I don’t know.” She’d been a single parent, supporting two rambunctious children on a limited income. It wouldn’t surprise him if she’d popped some pills to deal with stuff.

“You should talk to her about it,” his sister suggested.

“No, it’s fine. It passed.” Talking about it would probably just make it worse and more likely to happen again. And he didn’t want that.

“Well, then at least talk to Clarke,” Octavia said. “Tell her what happened today. She’d wanna know.”

Yeah, she probably would, but . . . Bellamy didn’t exactly like the thought of burdening her with even _more_ of his issues. She was already doing so much to help him work through how he was feeling. Why should she have to do even more?

After leaving Octavia’s, he headed straight home, and just like something straight out of a Hallmark movie, Clarke came to the door to greet him, a big smile on her face.

“Hey, babe,” he said, reaching out for her.

“Hey.” She put her hands on his chest and gave him a quick kiss.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” he remarked.

“I am. Madi’s piano lesson went well. She said she actually kind of enjoyed it.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. And I talked to my dad. So that was nice.”

_She had a good day_ , he thought. That was what they’d talked about first thing in the morning, how it was going to be a good day. And it had been. For her.

“What about you?” she asked. “How are you doing?”

_Not the best_ , he thought. But he didn’t wanna put that on her and ruin the day she had. So he lied. “Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, good.” He thought he sounded pretty convincing. “I even got my own workout in. So now . . . maybe I can give _you_ a workout.”

“Mmm,” she purred, sliding her hands down to his abs. “I like the sound of that.” She pressed her body into his and tilted her head back, going in for another kiss. He gladly kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and scrunching up her shirt in the back. Together, they stumbled back inside the house, and he kicked the door shut behind him, hoping things were going to escalate all the way. Sex with Clarke would make him feel breathless all over again. But in a good way this time.


	89. Chapter 89

_Chapter 89_

“I know, I know, this isn’t fun,” the doctor said sympathetically as he poked another needle into Avery’s left thigh. She cried shrilly upon feeling that, of course.

Apparently it wasn’t fun for Bellamy, either, because he stroked her soft little head and said, “God, I hate this.”

“Gotta be done,” Clarke reminded him. Vaccinations were a painful necessity for infants. She’d lost track of everything Avery had gotten, but she was pretty sure this particular shot was the diphtheria one. Or maybe it was tetanus. Or both? Plus, she’d gotten another dose of the hepatitis B shot. It was awful to watch her daughter be poked and prodded with needles, but her mom had assured her that it was essential.

“Just one more, kiddo,” the doctor said as he got another shot ready. “Hang in there.” He was a pretty nice guy, this Dr. Cillian. As much as Clarke had wanted to stick with Dr. Jackson, he’d described himself as the ‘baby-in-the-belly doctor,’ and Dr. Cillian was the doctor to have once your baby was out and in your arms.

“I can’t even watch anymore,” Bellamy said, looking away as their little girl got poked again, this time in her right thigh. She squirmed a little bit, surprisingly strong for someone who was so little, but they managed to keep her as still as possible.

“There, all done,” the doctor announced, blessedly taking that last needle over to the desk, where he proceeded to jot down some notes.

“Thank God,” Bellamy said. He scooped Avery up and held her against his shoulder, patting her back gently, whispering, “Shh,” in her ear as she continued crying. All it took was that close contact with him, though, to start to calm her down. Or maybe it was the sound of his voice. Or even his smell. Dr. Cillian had informed them that Avery could recognize both of them just by their smell now.

Clarke’s phone vibrated, and she would have just silenced it had she not recognized the number.

“Who’s that?” Bellamy asked her.

“Just a minute,” she said before answering. “Hello?”

“Hi, Clarke?”

“Yes.”

“This is Rita from Charles Pike’s office. How are you today?”

“Um, fine,” she said. “Yeah, fine. Is he able to meet with us?”

“He’s planning on coming back tomorrow,” the woman told her. “We’re trying to reschedule the appointments he missed. Does tomorrow at 1:30 work for you?”

“Tomorrow at 1:30?” she repeated, casting a questioning look at Bellamy.

“With Pike?” he said quietly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, that works.” She didn’t have any lessons, and even though he probably had practice scheduled, he’d switch it around.

“Okay, I’ll pencil you in,” the woman said. “We’ll see you then, Clarke.”

“Thanks.” She ended the call and smiled shakily at Bellamy. On the one hand, it was great that they were going to be able to move forward with this. On the other hand, though, she didn’t want him to see how nervous she was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So is this making sense?” Pike asked after a lengthy discussion about what their next steps were. Well, it hadn’t been as much of a discussion as it’d been him just telling them what their next steps were going to be. He was the expert, after all.

“I think so,” Clarke said. Trying to wrap her mind around all this legal stuff was still difficult. “We’re gonna serve him with the paperwork where he can consent. And hopefully he does.”

Sitting beside her, Bellamy was definitely less optimistic. “He won’t.”

“No, he might.” There was still a slim possibility, and she didn’t want to completely give up hope.

“But if he doesn’t, then it turns into a shit show,” Bellamy grumbled.

“If he doesn’t, we still stand a very good chance of you two gaining sole custody,” Pike assured them. He’d said that a lot, but it was never a guarantee. If it wasn’t ‘a very good chance,’ then it was, ‘a strong likelihood’ or ‘the most probable outcome.’

“So if he doesn’t, then we’re gonna try to have his rights . . . terminated,” Clarke recapped.

“Yes.”

That word, _terminated_ . . . it was so final. It reminded her of the terminology the abortion clinic had used. “And that would mean I have full custody,” she said.

“Yes, and from that point onward, moving ahead with the stepparent adoption would be a very simple and straightforward process.”

If only the whole thing would have been straightforward and simple. If only Finn wasn’t making things complicated. “So how do we prove that I deserve full custody and he doesn’t?” she inquired, knowing that, even though it seemed like a no-brainer to her and her family, there were always legal grounds to dispute things.

“Well, as of right now, his rights are . . . really almost invisible,” Pike said. “Because he hasn’t done much to actually exercise them.”

“But he could blame that on us,” Bellamy recalled. “He could just say we denied him his rights.”

Pike nodded slowly to confirm. “Yes. And that’s really the only hiccup I can foresee here. In terms of everything else, you have the upper hand. Not only do you have the parental experience, but the potential of maintaining family relationships is something Avery can only have with the two of you. You said Finn doesn’t have a family, correct?”

“Uh, no, he was in foster care his whole life,” Clarke replied. “Are they really gonna hold that against him, though? I mean, that seems kinda harsh.”

“Oh, well,” Bellamy muttered.

“It’s harsh,” Pike agreed, “but that’s how it goes sometimes. He doesn’t seem to have a record of bad character, but neither do you two, so that’s encouraging. And financially, it sounds like you two are also more stable than him.”

“Are we?” Clarke wondered. “I mean, I’m self-employed. I have one music student.”

“Yeah, but your parents are loaded,” Bellamy mumbled. “We’re fine.”

She knew it was kind of a bitter pill for him to swallow that they might have to rely on the financial support of her family in this scenario, just to make themselves look better. But if that was what it took, then that was what it took. “Should I see if they’re willing to sign the house over to us?” she wondered.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Pike answered. “When making these decisions, the court will look at the suitability of the residence, and if you own that residence, that’s just another advantage over him.”

“Are people gonna come visit our home?” Clarke asked, suddenly envisioning herself having to become all Martha Stewart and conduct a home tour for a bunch of social workers or something.

“It’s unlikely, but it _could_ happen. That’s very rare in this state, though,” Pike said. “Still, it might not be a bad idea to make sure everything in your house is baby-proofed, just to put your best foot forward in that scenario.”

She nodded, trying to think of everything that was already done versus everything that still needed to be done. Maybe they could get Roan to help since he had two kids of his own and was very handy.

“What else can we do while you draw up this paperwork Finn’s not gonna sign?” Bellamy asked morosely.

“Well, you can collect references,” Pike told him. “Find those people who are willing to put it in writing that they vouch for you be allowed to adopt the child.”

“So like a letter of recommendation?” Bellamy said.

“Exactly.”

He sighed dejectedly and mumbled, “I was never good at getting those.”

“But this is, like, based solely on his parenting, right?” Clarke said. “Don’t worry, it’s not like academic letters of recommendation in high school.”

“Ask godparents, family friends, neighbors, anyone who’s willing to voice their support,” Pike said.

“Grandparents?” Bellamy added.

“Sure. Particularly the ones on Clarke’s side.”

_Four people right there_ , Clarke thought. Her mom, her dad, Kane, and Alyssa would all definitely write one. Plus, they had Raven, Murphy, Harper, Miller . . . so many friends who knew very well how much Bellamy loved Avery. “Okay, we can do that,” she said, feeling slightly optimistic, because she knew there was no way Finn would have so many letters. “I think we’ve got a lot of people who would be willing to help. Could I even write something?”

“Of course,” Pike said.

“Okay, I will. I’ll do that tonight.” She glanced over at Bellamy, who still looked worried as hell, and put her hand on his thigh, giving it a little squeeze. “See, we don’t just have to wait,” she said. “There’s stuff we can do.” Hopefully, they’d do enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing at the sink, Bellamy gave his reflection a long, hard look in the mirror. Did he look . . . fatherly enough? Maybe a plaid shirt would help. For some reason, when he thought of dads, he thought of plaid.

He left the bathroom and pulled open the closet, but as usual, it was hard to find his stuff, because it was shoved in the back behind Clarke’s. He decided he’d look for typical dad clothes tomorrow, shut the closet, and joined Clarke on the bed, where she was sitting back against the headboard, typing a mile a minute on her laptop.

“Should I shave my beard?” he asked her, perching himself on the side of the bed.

For a moment, she stopped typing. “What?”

“I just think that I might look a little more wholesome without one.” He touched the hair on his chin, pondering the pros and cons out loud. “But then again, the beard makes me look mature.”

“Bellamy, what . . .” Clarke trailed off, confused.

“I’m just thinking about if someone ends up coming out here for some, you know, legal visit,” he explained. He had to look the part.

“We don’t know if it’s even gonna come to that,” she reminded him as she resumed typing her letter. “But go ahead, do whatever you want.”

He sighed, thought about it a little more, and decided, “Maybe I’ll just keep it. I know you like the way it feels.” He grinned at her.

She blushed a bit, finished up another sentence or two, then sat up on her knees and said, “Okay, I think I finished. You wanna hear it?”

“Sure.”

She moved over to the side of the bed with him and said, “Alright, tell me what you think,” then cleared her throat before starting in. “My name is Clarke Blake. I am the proud wife of Bellamy Blake, a man who is not only my husband and best friend, but also an amazing father to our daughter, Avery.”

He smiled.

“Although he might not biologically be her dad, in every way that matters, Bellamy has and will always be that pivotal person in her life,” Clarke continued on. “I know for a fact that he loves his daughter more than anything in the world. She is the center of his universe, the apple of his eye, and they both deserve for their relationship to be legally recognized for what it is: an undeniable, powerful, and everlasting parent/child bond.”

_All good words for it_ , he thought. Couldn’t have said it better himself.

The rest of the letter talked about how Bellamy was with Clarke throughout the entire pregnancy, providing both emotional and financial support. She wrote how he’d been there to see the first ultrasound and had been there to see Avery’s birth into the world. How the first hands she’d felt had been his, because he’d been the one to catch her had been the first person to hold her. Just hearing Clarke say those things brought tears to his eyes, ones that he tried to blink away. It was all pretty damn special, though, moments he’d never forget.

“I gave my daughter Bellamy’s last name for a reason,” she said, sounding like she was nearing the end of her letter after she read the part about all the time they spent together as a family, “because I know that his place in our lives is permanent, that he will always love us both unconditionally.”

He nodded, silently agreeing, _Always._

“We will forever be a warm and loving family, and all we ask is to be legally complete. Without a doubt, this is the best decision for all of us, especially Avery. Neither she nor I can imagine life without Bellamy, and thankfully, we don’t have to.”

That last part . . . it resonated. Hit deep. Mostly because there had, at one point, been a time when he’d had to imagine life without her.

****

_The dorms were chaos. Hallways were crowded, and elevators were jamming because of overuse._

_“Deadline for checkout is noon!” the RA of the floor shouted as he squeezed past Bellamy. “Enjoy your Thanksgiving break!”_

_It wasn’t going to be much of a break for Bellamy. Just a few days at home, but he’d take it. The past two weeks had been rough for him, between the Gina situation and the team’s first loss. Coach Lightbourne had debated putting him in during the fourth quarter, but he’d decided to keep Brady in instead._

_Luckily, Bellamy got on an elevator that didn’t jam. Loaded down with luggage, he made it outside, where his Uber to the airport was waiting for him. No need to say goodbye to his roommate or anything like that. They’d barely exchanged three words all semester so far, so no need to start now._

_When he got to the airport, he found out his flight was delayed, but only by half an hour, so he texted his mom to let her know. She texted back that they were on their way to the airport already and couldn’t wait to see him._

_The flight seemed long and wasn’t particularly comfortable. He’d ended up close to the back, so the turbulence sucked. He put in some earbuds and passed the time watching film of the last game, noting all the mistakes Brady and the offense had made. Would it have gone any better with him at the helm? Maybe. They’d never know now._

_When he landed down at the BWI airport, the anticipation of seeing his family ratcheted up a notch. Other than that first game, his mom and his sister hadn’t been able to visit him at all. It was weird to hardly see them anymore after so many years of seeing them every single day. He looked around for them when he got off the plane, but it wasn’t like the movies where they were right there waiting for him. They weren’t passengers, so they couldn’t go past the security checkpoint. He headed in that general direction, carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, and heard Octavia exclaim, “There he is!” before he even saw her. “Bellamy!”_

_He swung his head in the direction of her voice and saw her jumping up and down excitedly, waving her hand in the air to get his attention. She looked like a spaz, and he couldn’t wait to hug her._

_“Hey,” he said opening his arms when he was close enough. No need to bend down anymore since she was definitely going through a growth spurt. “Whoa,” he said, catching her when she practically launched herself at him. “Someone missed her big brother.”_

_“Only a little,” she said, hugging him tightly._

_“I missed you, too, O,” he told her quietly. Annoying as she could be, she was kind of fun to be around sometimes. He’d rather hang out with her than most of the guys on the team any day._

_When she finally let go of him, his mom came in for her hug. “Hi, honey,” she said._

_“Hey, Mom.”_

_She grabbed at his arm and marveled, “Oh my goodness, you’re so muscular.”_

_“Yeah, defensive players are huge in college, so I’ve been tryin’ to bulk up a bit,” he said. “I don’t wanna get killed out there.” Not that he’d actually been out there a lot during games, but . . ._

_“Well, you look great,” she told him. “I’m so happy you’re home. Even if it is just for a few days.”_

_“Why do you have to fly back on Friday?” Octavia asked. “Can’t you just stay longer?”_

_“I wish,” he said. “But we got a game Saturday afternoon.” Some of the guys weren’t even going home for break._

_Octavia frowned sadly._

_“Hey, we’ll make the most of the time we have,” he assured her. Three days was better than nothing. But if the weekend flights had been cheaper, he would have gotten out of Florida sooner._

_“Maybe we can start by going out for dinner,” his mom suggested. “What do you say?”_

_Those cookies the airline had provided had pretty much been solidified crap, so he was hungry. “Yeah, sure.” It would probably be dark out by the time they got home. That didn’t leave him time to go visit . . . anyone else. But he felt like he needed to make his family his top priority anyway._

_It didn’t really hit Bellamy that he was actually back home until they_ got _home to Arkadia. It seemed so small. Hell, it_ was _so small. Especially compared to a big city like Orlando. The traffic was non-existent, and there were more stop signs than stoplights. It was all so familiar, though. Every street, every house, every person who saw him drive by and waved at him. The only thing that was different was that there was a big sign in his yard that said, “Welcome home, Bellamy!” on it. It looked like Octavia had decorated it, but she denied it, of course._

_Between the three of them, they were able to haul everything inside pretty easily. They put his suitcases in the laundry room, and he brought his bag into his room, glad that nothing seemed to have changed. It was exactly the way he’d left it. “Same old room,” he remarked._

_“I didn’t touch anything,” his mom assured him._

_That was probably a good thing, because who even knew what she might find? Lots of dirty magazines, a stock supply of condoms, and probably a couple compromising photos of him with various girls from high school._

_Octavia seemed to have gotten worn out, because she didn’t join them in his bedroom. Instead, she’d lain down on the couch, curled up on her side, and closed her eyes. “Look at her,” his mom said, glancing out into the living room. “She’s so tired.”_

_“Why?” She’d been on break since Friday._

_“She could hardly sleep last night,” his mom replied. “She was counting down the hours until you came home.”_

_“Wow.” He knew she’d missed him, but that was some Santa Claus shit right there. Not being able to fall asleep was something kids did on Christmas Eve._

_“Maybe you could do something with her tomorrow?” his mom suggested._

_“Yeah.” He planned on it._

_“I have to work, so . . .”_

_“Yeah, we’ll hang out,” he said. “I’m gonna text Miller and Zeke, see if they wanna come over for a while, too.”_

_“Alright,” his mom said. “I’ll go ahead and do your laundry tonight.”_

_“Thanks, Mom.” He’d actually done_ some _laundry the past couple months. But he’d definitely Febreezed a couple shirts once in a while._

_His texts didn’t end up getting him very far. Miller responded quickly, but apparently he had one last final exam tomorrow and still needed to study for it. He said he could hang out tomorrow any time after 9:00, though. Zeke doesn’t respond, which didn’t surprise Bellamy. They hadn’t really done a good job of keeping in touch._

_He didn’t text Clarke. He thought about it. He wanted to. But he just didn’t._

_The next morning, he woke up late and shuffled out to the kitchen, hoping his mom had gotten his favorite cereal. (She had.) Octavia was sitting at the kitchen table eating what appeared to be lunch, her eyes on her phone. Sounded like she was watching a video._

_“Did Mom already go to work?” he asked her._

_“Yeah. Do you always sleep so late?”_

_“No, I usually get up for class. Gotta sleep in while I can.” He brought a bowl, his cereal, and a half-empty carton of milk over to the table, sitting down beside her. “What’re you doing?” he asked._

_“Watching YouTube.”_

_He leaned over, peeking at her screen. “What is that?_

_“A makeup tutorial,” she replied._

_He grunted. “I think you’re wearing enough.” It wasn’t only the growth spurt that was making Octavia look older. She looked like she was already in high school, which was . . . a little concerning._

_“I wanna know how to do a smoky eye by the time Thanksgiving break’s over,” she said._

_He had no idea what the hell a smoky eye even was, but he knew for a fact that he couldn’t help her with it. “Well, I was gonna offer to hang out today, but not if we’re watchin’ that shit.”_

_She paused the video and eagerly said, “We could go to a movie. Something violent. Mom won’t let me see those, but I’m sure you will.”_

_“Fine, as long as it’s not a chick flick.”_

_“Please,” she snorted, “when have I ever been into those?”_

_True. They’d once watched_ A Walk to Remember, _and he’d enjoyed it a hell of lot more than she did._

_“Would you be okay by yourself for a little while, though?” he asked her. “I was gonna go see some of my friends, just catch up with them a little it.”_

_She gave him a look and sounded all skeptical when she said, “Mmm-hmm.”_

_He made a face. “What’s that? What’re you--”_

_“I’m not stupid, Bell,” she cut in. “I know what_ ‘friend’ _you’re gonna go see.”_

_“Who?” he said. “You mean . . .?” He trailed off, reluctant to even say her name. Because she wasn’t exactly just a friend. Besides, it was after 9:00, so he could go ahead and meet up with Miller somewhere, maybe go down to the field. It was cool out, but not too cold._

_Octavia didn’t say anything else, just sat there giving him a knowing look. And he_ felt _that look, because dammit, she was right. He wasn’t gonna go hang out with Miller until he saw someone else first._

_After showering and shaving the very faint beginnings of a beard, he got in the car and headed over to Clarke’s house. Maybe he should have called or texted her first, but he kind of liked the thought of just showing up on her doorstep, surprising her. It couldn’t be too much of a surprise, though, right? She had to be expecting him. Hell, there was a fucking sign in his yard welcoming him home. And when they’d ended things, they’d said that they would see each other again. Over break. It was break now._

_When the Griffins’ huge house came into view, he started to feel nervous. More like the excited kind of nervous, but still . . . It just felt like it’d been so long since he’d seen her face, heard her voice . . . touched her. He wasn’t exactly sure how much touching was going to take place today, especially if her parents were home, but at least he’d be able to hug her. Maybe kiss her a couple times before he left. He’d really missed kissing her._

_The driveway was empty, so he pulled up by the garage, got out of the car, and took a deep breath. This was it. Finally. He walked up to the door, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans—since when did he get sweaty palms? This wasn’t normal—and rang the doorbell. It chimed loudly, and he stood there with a ridiculously eager smile on his face, waiting for her to come open the door and see him. From her bedroom, she could look out the bay window and see him standing there, so he liked to picture her quickly fixing up her hair and running downstairs._

_Any second, he expected to hear footsteps. But he didn’t. So he rang the doorbell again and even knocked this time._

_Still no answer._

_It was a fancy front door, the kind with glass on the sides of it, so he leaned close to it and peered through, trying to see if anyone was home. It didn’t seem like it._

_“You lookin’ for the Griffins?” someone across the street asked loudly._

_He spun around and said to the neighbor, “Yeah.”_

_“Not home,” the man said as he bent down to grab his morning paper off the sidewalk. “They took off a couple days ago for Thanksgiving.”_

_Bellamy frowned, his hopes of seeing Clarke today immediately dashed. “Where’d they go?”_

_“I don’t know,” the neighbor man replied. “To visit family, I guess. Jake said something about a road trip. I think his parents live in another state.”_

Another state? _Bellamy’s whole stomach clenched up with disappointment. “Any idea when they’re gonna be back?” he asked._

_“Not ‘til next week,” the man said. “If you want, I can tell ‘em they had a visitor.”_

Shit, _Bellamy thought. Next week, he’d be gone. It’d be too late._

_“You want me to tell ‘em?” the man offered._

_What was the point? It wouldn’t do any good. Clearly Clarke didn’t want to see him as much as he wanted to see her. She really had moved on, hadn’t she? They weren’t a part of each other’s lives anymore, and if this was any indication, their time had just . . . passed._

_“No, that’s okay,” Bellamy said. “In fact, don’t tell ‘em anything.” He lowered his head and hustled back to his car, ready to get the hell out of there now. Whatever he was feeling—disappointment, anger, heartache . . . it didn’t feel very good._

****

Angling her body towards him, Clarke asked, “So what do you think?” once she’d finished reading what she’d written.

He thought it was a damn good letter. But there weren’t any words in the universe that could convey just how much of a hand fate had played in bringing him and Clarke back together. A year ago, he wouldn’t have even thought this life that he currently had was even possible.

“It’s good,” he told her, struggling to speak because of the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh . . . it’s really good.”

“And it’s all true,” she said, setting her computer aside on the pillow. She looped her arms around him, hugging him against his side, and rested her head against his shoulder. “Every word,” she whispered.

He knew that, of course. Their family and friends knew it. He just hoped a judge would know that, too.


	90. Chapter 90

_Chapter 90_

Clarke felt like crying by the time she neared the end of her mom’s letter. In it, she’d written about how it brought so much joy to her heart to see her granddaughter loved unconditionally. She gave specific examples of things she’d heard Bellamy say to Avery and times she’d watched him care for her and play with her. Kind of touching stuff.

“Is that what you were looking for?” her mother asked.

“Yeah.” She nodded, holding the tears back, and refolded the letter, sticking it back in its envelope. “Yes, this is perfect. Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem,” her mother said. “Bet you never thought I’d be able to say such nice things about Bellamy, huh?”

“I’m glad you saw the light.”

“Yeah.” Her mom handed her another unsealed envelope and said, “Here’s Kane’s.”

“Oh, wow.” That one felt bulky. “I’ll have to read this when I get home.” Emotionally, she probably couldn’t handle reading another letter right now. From what she knew, Kane was a really good writer, too, so his would probably _really_ tug at the heartstrings.

“How are you feeling about all this?” her mom asked.

“Honestly?” She’d plastered on a smile before heading over to her mom’s house that day. She had Avery with her, of course, and was trying to seem upbeat and positive. But she felt like her façade was fading fast. “It’s stressful. It sucks,” she said. “I mean, to me, it’s just so _obvious_ that Bellamy’s her father. I hate that we have to, like, prove it now.”

“Well, it’ll all work out, I’m sure.” Her mom patted her on the back and headed into the kitchen to check the casserole she’d put in the oven.

“Are you really sure?” Clarke challenged. “Or are you just saying that?”

After a quick taste test, Abby closed the oven door again, stood up, and declared, “I’m sure. Just look at how things have worked out so far. I mean, don’t forget, there was a time when you didn’t even think you’d end up with him at all. And now look where you are.”

_True_ , Clarke thought, managing to find a small amount of comfort in that. If destiny was a real thing, so far, it seemed to be on their side.

****

_There weren’t enough places to sit in her aunt and uncle’s living room, so Clarke stood off to the side while the rest of her family engaged in an overly-intense game of charades. The teams were split along gender lines, and so far, the women were winning. No thanks to her. She hadn’t piped up with one guess, even though she knew most of the answers. This one that her cousin Zach was acting out had to be ‘pig in a blanket,’ right?_

_When he turned his nose up, that somehow inspired her dad to shout out, “Pig!” and Zach nodded emphatically. He wrapped his arms around himself, and for some reason, her uncle John guessed, “Three Little Pigs!” even though the category was food. Clarke mentally face-palmed and bit her tongue, but all it took was for Zach to get down on the ground and start rolling for her dad to realize what it was. “Pig in a blanket!” he shouted._

_“Yes!” Zach exclaimed, shooting to his feet. “Nice! Right in the nick of time!”_

_“Another point for the men,” her Uncle John said boastfully, even though they pretty much stood no chance of catching up and winning. “Who’s up next?”_

_“Uh, I think that’d be Clarke,” her aunt replied._

_“Oh, someone else can go for me.” She really wasn’t in the charades spirit._

_“No, we have to keep the same rotation,” her dad said. “That’s the rule.”_

_She’d already gone once, though, struggled to get her team to successfully guess_ March of the Penguins. _Waddling around like a penguin had really been the cherry on top of an already lackluster Thanksgiving._

_“Go on, honey,” her mom urged._

_She just didn’t have it in her to keep playing this stupid game. She knew she was being a downer, and her family would have a lot more fun without her standing there sucking all the energy out of the room. “Sorry, Raven’s calling,” she said, making up a quick excuse as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pretended to look at a name on the screen. “I have to take this. You guys keep playing.” She hustled out onto the porch before any of her family members could notice that her phone hadn’t been vibrating at all and went ahead and dialed her best friend’s number._

_Raven picked up on the third ring. “Hey, chica.”_

_“Hey. Thanks for calling me.”_

_“What?” Raven said confusedly. “I didn’t.”_

_“Well, my family thinks you did. We’re playing charades. You’re my escape.”_

_“Oh, in that case, I don’t blame you,” Raven said. “Having fun?”_

_“Not really.” Rural Pennsylvania left a little to be desired. They’d been out there for days, and while she’d at least gotten to know her dad’s side of the family better than ever before, she’d kind of had her fill of them. “What about you?” she asked. “Enjoying Thanksgiving with Zeke’s family?”_

_“Yeah, they’re great,” Raven said. “And it’s been . . . it’s been good to see him again.”_

_Clarke frowned, not sure why her friend didn’t sound more . . . enthused about spending the holiday with her boyfriend. She knew they weren’t talking every day anymore, but . . . she just hated to think of them drifting any further apart._

_“So I got some tea for you,” Raven revealed suddenly, changing the subject._

_“Like gossip tea?”_

_“No, honeysuckle.” Raven laughed at her own joke. “Yes, gossip. You wanna hear it?”_

_“Sure.” Clarke leaned against the porch railing, figuring the more time she could waste out here, the better._

_“Bellamy’s back in town.”_

_Of all the ‘tea’ she’d been expecting, though . . . for some reason, that hadn’t been it. “What?”_

_“Yeah, he texted Zeke a few days ago.”_

_She literally stopped breathing for a few seconds, although she wasn’t sure why. Of course Bellamy was back. She’d figured he would be, which was exactly why she and her parents had decided to spend the holidays_ away _from Arkadia. But still, just the thought of him being there, only a three or four hour drive away . . ._

_“Have you seen him?” Clarke asked quietly, trying to sound less interested than she actually was._

_“No. And he didn’t text me,” Raven said._

_“Yeah, me, neither.” She wondered what that was all about. Did he just . . . not care anymore? Had he maybe even brought a new girlfriend home?_

_“That’s weird,” Raven commented. “I thought he would’ve.”_

_Truthfully . . . so had she. In fact, for days now, she’d subconsciously been bracing herself for some kind of communication from him, whether it be a text or a call. “Well, it’s good that he didn’t,” she decided, trying to force herself to believe that. “I mean, it’s over between us. I’m sure he’s moving on. And that’s . . . that’s for the best.” As long as they didn’t talk or text or see each other at all, then he’d never find out about . . . her choice. And that was_ definitely _for the best. No need for him to feel the loss of something he never even had to know they’d had._

_“Well, do you want me to tell him anything if I run into him?” Raven offered._

_“No,” Clarke answered quickly. “Nothing from me.” She didn’t even want him knowing about this conversation._

_“I guess I just don’t understand why you guys cut things off completely,” Raven said. “Did you ever even think about trying the long-distance thing?”_

_It was too late for that. Too late for them. Everything was just . . . over. “Um, Raven, I have to go back inside,” she said, now using her family as the little white lie. “My mom’s yelling at me. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She ended the call abruptly, let out a heavy sigh, and shook her head, upset with herself for her complete and utter inability to move on. Was it always gonna be like this?_

_“Mom’s yelling at you, huh?”_

_She looked over her shoulder as her mother came out onto the porch._

_“I just needed to get off the phone,” she said._

_Her mom pulled the sleeves of her shirt down over her hands and shivered as a gust of wind blew past. “What’s wrong?” she asked._

_“Nothing.” She averted her eyes, well aware of how suspicious she must have been acting. Sometimes, there was no hiding how she was feeling from her mom. “Bellamy’s home on break,” she mumbled._

_Her mother tensed up a bit, folding her arms across her chest. “Well,” she said. “Then it’s a good thing we came here. You need to avoid him, and it’s easier this way.”_

None of it’s easy, _she thought. Whether she was here or there, it all hurt just the same._

_“Now come back inside,” her mom said, “spend some time with your family.” She walked back into the house, clearly expecting Clarke to follow her; but Clarke stood out there for a few more seconds, unfazed by how cold it was getting. She didn’t wanna go back in that living room and be a spectator for any more stupid charades. Sure, those people in there were her family, but . . . it just felt like part of her family was missing._

****

Touching her stomach nervously, Clarke quietly said, “Mom? You don’t think Finn would bring up . . . my past, do you?” She was afraid to even consider the possibility, but she felt like she had to be ready for anything. “I mean, if this ends up going to the courts, do you think he’d try to . . . cast doubt on my character?”

“I would hope not,” her mom said. “But even if he did, it’s not against the law to have an abortion.”

“Yeah, but what if we get some ultra-conservative super evangelical judge who just wants to stick it to me for--”

“Clarke,” her mom cut her off, walking back towards her. “Don’t get yourself all worked up over this. It’s a worst case scenario. And if it does happen, I’ll take the responsibility for it. We’ll say it was my decision, that I practically forced you to have it done.”

“What . . .” That wasn’t how it’d happened, though. Sure, her mother had influenced her decision, but ultimately, the choice had still been her own. It wasn’t fair for her mom to just throw herself down on the sword like this. “No, I—I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she stammered.

“I know. But I’d do it anyway,” her mom said. “If it comes down to it, it’s better to have my reputation attacked than yours.” Reaching out, she pulled Clarke in for a hug, and a few tears slipped out of Clarke’s eye, down her cheek, and onto her mom’s shirt. _Dammit_ , she thought. Here she’d been doing such a good job of holding them in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sitting down on the floor, Clarke watched as Avery tried to roll over from her stomach to her back. She didn’t quite have the hang of it yet, but she was doing a good job of lifting not only her head, but also her shoulders and chest. Clarke was giving her lots of tummy time, because Dr. Cillian had said it would help strengthen her upper body muscles.

“Look at you,” she cooed, jingling a rattle out in front of Avery. “You’re getting strong.”

Avery tried to reach for the rattle—her hand/eye coordination was really improving, too—but she wasn’t quite strong enough to support herself with just one hand yet.

“Daddy’s gonna be excited to have an athlete in the family,” Clarke said, handing the rattle to her. She grasped it, looked at it for a moment, and then gave it a little shake.

The doorbell rang, drowning out the jingle of the rattle, and Clarke said, “Huh, Madi must be early for her lesson.” She got up and went to open the door with a smile on her face. “Hey--” But it vanished suddenly when she saw that the person on the other side of the door was definitely _not_ Madi. “Finn.”

“Clarke.” His face was half-covered with his hair, so his expression wasn’t very readable. He didn’t _sound_ like he was in a good mood, though.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked him, even though she had a feeling she already knew.

“I thought we should talk. It’s been almost a week,” he said. “And I got something interesting in the mail today.”

Her stomach clenched. For some reason, she hadn’t anticipated another face to face conversation. She’d expected an irate phone call, maybe, or a furious flurry of texts. And even though she knew it was probably a good thing that Bellamy was at practice and wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours, the prospect of hashing this out with Finn all on her own was . . . kind of daunting.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his lips drawn tightly together.

She tried to block as much of his view of what was behind her as possible. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“I let you into my house,” he pointed out. “The least you could do is let me into yours.”

Dammit, she really wished she’d put Avery upstairs before going to the door. For some reason, all she could picture was Finn running in there and snatching her, then running back out. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen, but . . .

“Is that Avery?” he asked, looking over her shoulder. He took two steps forward, practically inviting himself in, and she didn’t feel like she could get him to step back out without putting her hands on his chest and actually pushing him out. And even though it wouldn’t have been a forceful push, she wasn’t going to give him any more ammo to use against her.

“There she is,” he said, smiling at the baby as she reluctantly shut the door behind him. He did make his way towards her and scoop her up, but . . . no darting away with her.

“Careful,” Clarke cautioned him. Even though she was getting stronger, she still wanted him to support her head when he was holding her.

As if to protest being held by him, Avery started to cry. Not too much, but just enough to make Clarke feel . . . vindicated, somehow.

“Why’s she crying?” Finn asked.

“Probably because she doesn’t recognize your face. Or your smell,” she said. “Or anything about you.” Avery _knew_ who her daddy was, and this man was not him.

“Well, let’s change that.” Finn shifted her so that she was upright, head resting against his shoulder, and he rubbed her back and whispered, “Shh. It’s okay.”

_No, it’s not_ , Clarke thought. Everything inside her wanted to revolt against the sight she was seeing. It didn’t even look right. As much as she would have loved to take Avery out of his arms, though, she worried that he’d hold onto her too tightly, that she’d get hurt.

“See?” he said as Avery’s cries began to abate. “Better already.”

Clarke couldn’t even remember a time when she’d wanted her daughter to _keep_ crying. Or to cry louder.

“This is all I want, this right here,” Finn said. “And what do I get instead? Adoption papers.”

“Well, that can’t possibly surprise you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “I mean, I thought I was pretty clear that that’s what Bellamy and I want. It isn’t changing.”

“So you just expect me to sign them? Sign all my rights away?” He huffed. “And then what? I never see my daughter again. I never get to hold her like this.”

“Finn . . .” He was making himself out to be such a victim, but he’d had his chance to step up to the plate back when she’d first revealed she was pregnant, and he hadn’t done it. “It just it is what it is. You and I . . . we’re not a family. And Avery deserves a family, a loving one. You can’t compete with what Bellamy and I can offer her. You know that.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, catching her off guard with his readiness to agree. “I’m not an idiot. I don’t sit here imagining myself getting sole custody of her. That’s not even what I want.”

“Well, we’re not sharing custody, so where does that leave us?” she questioned. “You either sign the papers or we go to court and see how it all shakes out.”

“Or . . .” He paused dramatically, giving her a long, hard look in the eye. “We try something else.”

“Like what?”

He reached into his back pocket and took out an envelope, not unlike the ones she’d gotten her mom and Kane’s letters in. “What’s this?” she asked, taking out the paper inside.

“Read it.”

There were multiple pages of text, small font, full of legal jargon that, quite frankly, went way over her head. “This is too much to read right now.”

“It’s an agreement,” he informed her. “A legal agreement put together by my lawyer.”

“You have a lawyer?”

He glared at her, almost as if he were offended by the question. “Don’t you?”

She just couldn’t imagine who he would have hired, who he could afford. Then again . . . she and Bellamy could only afford Pike because of Kane.

“That agreement details the only thing I want: time with Avery,” Finn revealed, stroking the downy hairs on the back of the baby’s head. “I wanna know that you’re not gonna cut me out of her life completely. I’m not aiming for shared custody. I’m not even offering to pay child support because I know you don’t wanna take it. I want three hours with her once a week. That’s all. I don’t think that’s asking for too much.”

“Three hours?” she echoed. That would accumulate.

“Once a week,” he reiterated. “For the next three months. You give me that, and I’ll sign your fuckin’ papers.”

She looked at him skeptically, trying to decipher the catch. This had to be a trick or something. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?” she said.

“Because my word’s all written right there,” he said, motioning to the papers with his head. “And I already signed it.”

She flipped to the back page, amazed to see that there was, in fact, a date and signature there, underneath a line that attested to the truth and validity of the agreement outlined in the document. It . . . _seemed_ like he was trying to strike a deal. But did she really want to give up three hours a week with her little girl?

“What if I don’t?” she challenged, wanting to see if he was willing to negotiate further, to drop it down to two hours, or just three hours every _other_ week. Or something.

“Then I guess we take it to court,” he said. “And then we’ll see how much time with her I get awarded. Could be a lot more than three hours.”

That was exactly what she feared. Even though Pike had assured her that they had the upper hand, she’d made the mistake of getting online and reading about custody battles, how sometimes parents ended up having to send their kids to the other parent for entire weekends at a time, or sometimes even entire holidays.

“So you’re giving me an ultimatum,” she said.

“No.”

“Yes, you are. Pretty much. Either I sign and compromise, or you escalate things.”

“It’s hardly a compromise,” he argued. “Once a week, Clarke.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you take care of her,” she said, nearing him with what felt a lot like fury in her eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby. How could I trust you with her?”

“I’m not asking to spend time with her alone. You can be there, too,” he said. “Even Bellamy, if that’s what he wants.”

She gave him an incredulous look. Did he really think that they’d be able to do that? He and Bellamy couldn’t stand each other, and she grew less and less fond of him all the time.

“We don’t need the court to work this out for us; we can do it ourselves,” he said. “We can all get what we want out of this. I get to know my daughter, and Bellamy gets to adopt her. Where’s the problem with that?”

When he put it like that . . . it didn’t _sound_ like there was a problem. But she knew better than to just agree to something with Finn without thinking it through first. Hell, doing that was probably what had gotten her pregnant in the first place.

“I have to go feed her now,” she said, reaching out to take her from him. “You should leave.”

“I can wait,” he said.

“It takes a while.” Actually, Avery didn’t even need to be fed. She just wanted Finn to go away, give her some time to think about things before Madi came over for her lesson—how the hell was she even going to be able to focus on that now?—and before Bellamy got home.

“Well, listen . . . think about it,” he told her. “Talk to Bellamy. And let me know.”

She nodded, just barely, and started heading up the stairs. She waited until he’d walked out the front door to walk back down to the living room, sit in the recliner, and just hold her little girl, trying to make sense of the whirlwind that was now wreaking havoc on her mind.

Avery lifted her hand to try to grab at her hair, and she gave it a little tug. How ironic that she was getting so much stronger when Clarke just kept feeling weaker and more powerless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy felt like he needed his hearing checked the first time Clarke told him what Finn was proposing. Or maybe he’d had one too many drinks with Murphy at Eligius, because . . . he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Jesus Christ, Clarke,” he swore, lying back on the bed.

“I know,” she said, looking down at the multi-page document she had in her lap. “I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since he came by.”

He sort of wished she’d called him right afterward. He would have ended practice early and headed home right away instead of stopping at the bar. “How do we know if that thing’s even legit?” he said, doubting the legitimacy of the paper in Clarke’s hand.

“I sent Pike a copy,” she informed him. “He’s still reading it, but he said, just from a first glance, it looks like the real deal. A legal agreement that Finn will sign over his rights if we let him spend a little time with her. For three months.”

“And then what?” They kept throwing that number out there, _three_. Three hours, three months, but what was that all going to amount to? “What happens after I adopt her?”

“Well, then she’s ours,” Clarke said, a bit of a dreamy smile on her face. “Completely.”

Maybe he was just being pessimistic, but that almost sounded too good to be true. “He’s gonna wanna keep spending time with her,” he predicted.

“It’d be on our terms, though,” she reminded him. “Once he signs over his rights, he doesn’t get a say.”

Sitting up, he said, “So, what, we’d just keep her from him?” That sounded easier said than done in a small town like Arkadia.

Clarke inhaled shakily, looking away.

“You don’t wanna do that, do you?” He could tell just by looking at her that, on some level, she felt sympathy for Finn. That was where they differed. He felt nothing of the kind.

“I don’t feel right about it,” she admitted.

He bit his tongue, not about to remind her that she’d kept him away from a child once.

“I’m not saying he’d be a _huge_ part of her life,” she said. “God, no. But . . . maybe once a month? I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing, Bellamy.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” He hadn’t felt so unsure about things in a long time. In fact, ever since he’d come back to Arkadia, his life had been almost nothing but certainty. He’d always _known_ that he needed to be there for Clarke, to step up and support her during her pregnancy. He’d _known_ he wanted to marry her, and even though it’d taken some time to get her to say yes, he’d even eventually _known_ without a doubt that he wanted to forgive her for the past. But now . . . he didn’t have that same feeling of knowing. He didn’t know what the right decision was, or if there even was a right decision or a wrong one. He felt like he was going into this whole thing blind, with his hands tied behind his back. “Part of me wants to just say, ‘Fuck it, see you in court,’” he said, shaking his head angrily as he pictured that utter jackass in his mind. “Go for broke, you know?”

“Yeah. Part of me wants to do that, too,” she said. “But if we do that and we lose . . .”

“We could end up sharing custody.” Just the thought of that made his blood boil. “You really think that would happen, though?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not. But is it worth the risk? At least this way we’d know how it’s gonna turn out.”

“What if he’s just playing us, though?” Bellamy kept worrying. “What if this is all his way of going to judge and saying, ‘See, for three months, I’ve been a part of her life every single week. Look what a good dad I am.’”

“Well, you’ve already been a part of her life for three months,” she pointed out. “You’ve already _been_ a good dad. And if anything, maybe this would make us look better. It’d show that we’re _not_ denying him his rights, but we’re still the obvious best choice.”

Since she’d had longer to think about it than he had, it made sense that her mind was a little more made up. She said she didn’t know what she was doing, but it sure seemed like she was trying to persuade him to go along with all of this. “So you wanna do this?” he said.

“I think it’s definitely something to consider.”

“Well, we gotta make a decision.”

“What, like right now?”

“I don’t know. Tonight. Tomorrow. We can’t just drag our feet on this.” Every second they wasted felt valuable somehow. “It’s your call, Clarke.”

“My--No, I . . . why do you always put stuff like this on me?” she stammered, her voice quaking.

He looked down at his lap, mumbling, “I just feel like you should have more of a say.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” she argued fervently. “We’re _both_ her parents. Your opinion matters just as much as mine.”

“Well, my opinion’s that it sucks either way, so I’m not gonna be any help.” He got up and stormed towards the bathroom, needing to just be _done_ with the whole conversation.

“Bellamy . . .”

He went inside and slammed the door louder than he’d intended to. Quickly stripping out of his clothes, he got in the shower, hoping a torrent of hot water would help relax him. It didn’t. Every one of his muscles felt tense, and his heart had started to beat fast again. He didn’t quite have that breathless feeling, but he did feel like there was all of this turmoil just bubbling up inside of him, needing to be released. Curling his hand into a fist, he punched at the marble wall. It didn’t do any damage, other than crack open the skin on his knuckles a bit. He didn’t bleed much. The small amount of blood that came out just washed right on down the drain.

He didn’t hear the bathroom door open, but he heard the shower door slide open. “Hey,” Clarke said, stepping in with him, fully clothed. “You okay?”

“No.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t been okay ever since they’d gotten back from Long Beach. On their honeymoon, he’d had no worries, but back here at home, he couldn’t seem to stop worrying.

Turning around slowly, he felt awful when he saw the concern in her eyes. Once again, he was being a burden on her. All the uncertainty and fear he was feeling . . . she was feeling it, too. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the same, but she did understand. As much as she could.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to her. “I shouldn’t have walked off like that.”

Reaching up, she put her hand on his cheek, stroking her thumb over his wet beard. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“No, I’m just . . .” If he was mad at anyone, it was Finn. If he was mad at any _thing_ , it was the whole situation. He couldn’t get any of that out, though, because that hard-to-breathe feeling all of a sudden swept over him again.

“Hey, shh,” she soothed, moving in close to him. “Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

He closed his eyes, trying to ground himself in the feel of the water, the touch of her hand, the closeness of her body, the sound of her voice. All of those things made him feel like he could breathe again, so when he opened his eyes, he said, “I just don’t want Avery to have these two competing dads, you know?”

“Avery has one dad,” she said, pressing one finger to his lips. “It’s no competition. But if it was, you’d win, hands down.” She managed a little bit of a smile.

He admired her so much in that moment for taking care of him, because she shouldn’t have had to do that, yet she wasn’t complaining. “I love you, Clarke,” he said, the words pouring out fluidly just like the water poured down on him.

“I love you, too.”

He brought both her hands up to his mouth and kissed them. “I love you, and I trust you,” he said. “So if you think this is the right thing to do, then I’m with you. Besides, like you said, all that really matters is that I’m able to adopt her. As long as I can do that, then nothing else matters.”

“Nothing else matters,” she agreed, leaning in to press her lips to his. She moved in close enough to hug him then, and just stood underneath that water with him, clothing and all. Since she was resting her head against his chest, he wondered if she could feel how quickly his heart was still beating. It wouldn’t slow down.


	91. Chapter 91

_Chapter 91_

Bellamy blew his whistle, stopping the play before his wide receiver could run it into the end zone. “What the hell, Smith?” he yelled. “What kind of block was that? You just let him run right past you!”

Smith just looked down at the grass and didn’t answer.

“Is that how we play now? We gonna be chumps like that?” Bellamy threw his playbook down and shouted, “Fuck!” fed up with correcting the guys on the same damn mistakes over and over again.

“Whoa, hey, Bellamy, calm down,” Miller said.

“No, I’m not gonna gonna calm down when they’re playin’ like shit!” He turned his back to his team, feeling like he was about to erupt. He’d been in a pissed off mood ever since he’d shown up to work that day, and this practice wasn’t making things any better. “I can’t be here, Miller,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “I can’t be here right now.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

_Too much_ , he thought. Even though there were plenty of people who were dealing with a much crappier life than he was, he still felt like he just had too much on his mind, like he couldn’t handle it. “You just finish practice, alright?” he said. “I gotta go. I gotta go do something.” He picked up the playbook and put it in his confused best friend’s hands, then jogged off the field, across the track in the direction of the parking lot. He didn’t have to cast a glance back over his shoulder to know that his team had to all just be standing there wondering what the fuck was wrong with their coach.

“Let’s run that again,” he heard Miller say.

_Sorry_ , he thought. He hadn’t meant to yell, hadn’t meant to be unprofessional. He’d just barely gotten any sleep last night, and he had a headache, and he would have much rather been sitting at a bar than standing out on a football field. The bar wasn’t open yet, though, so he figured he’d go somewhere else first.

Target was only a couple miles away from the school, so Bellamy swung by there first. If Finn wasn’t there, he’d drive to his house, give him a piece of his mind within the relative comfort of his own home instead. But lo and behold, there he was, Finn Collins, behind the very first register, one of only a couple of cashiers on duty. Unlike everyone else who worked there, instead of donning a red shirt and khakis, he had on a red shirt and jeans. Which was just typical, wasn’t it? Finn always thought he was the exception.

Rude as it was, Bellamy moved past the other people in Finn’s line, making his way to the front. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” an irritated woman asked, followed by a man who growled, “Back of the line, pal.” Bellamy ignored them and stepped in front of a guy who was just about to start unloading his cart. “We need to talk,” he said to Finn.

“I’m working.”

“So take a break.” Would that get him fired? Possibly. Did Bellamy care? Not at all.

“Wait ten minutes,” Finn said.

Reluctantly, Bellamy moved along, allowing the guy behind him to resume his checkout. “I’m sorry about that, sir,” he heard Finn apologize. “How are you doing today?”

Bellamy spotted an empty red bench not far away, so he sat down, crossed his arms, and proceeded to stare daggers at Finn while he went about his work. Ridiculous as it was, he kept hoping that Finn would screw up somehow, like maybe he’d scan something incorrectly or upset a customer or jam the register. But he didn’t make any mistakes. He’d been at that job for a while now, and it looked like he could do it in his sleep.

_He’s doing better work than I did today_ , Bellamy thought morosely, wondering what plays his team was running now. He really had just abandoned them today, hadn’t he? But not after chewing them out first. Coach of the motherfucking year he was.

It took Finn about fifteen minutes until there was enough of a lull in customers that he could take a break. He came and sat down next to Bellamy and commented, “You look like hell.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” It couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with the fact that the guy beside him was being a stubborn son of a bitch, could it?

Finn sighed. “Alright, listen, the way I see it, I’m making things easier on you. You and Clarke wanted to go straight to court. I’m the only one trying to find another way. Are you guys in?”

He didn’t want to speak _for_ Clarke, but she’d made it pretty clear last night which way she was leaning. “I guess,” he muttered.

“You guess?”

“Yeah, our lawyer’s looking through everything you gave us right now,” Bellamy informed him, making sure to add, “He’s a really good lawyer.”

“Well, he’s not gonna find anything sketchy,” Finn said. “It’s all legit.”

“Maybe.” Until he heard that from Pike, he was still going to be skeptical. “But if we do this, give you time with her . . . don’t for one second think you’re gonna replace me in her life.” If he mistakenly thought that he could even _try_ to do that, then he had another thing coming.

Finn made a face and said, “I don’t wanna replace you. I just want my own relationship with her.”

_You don’t deserve it_ , Bellamy thought. If he’d _really_ wanted that, he would have stepped up to the plate right from the fucking start.

“Come on, Bellamy,” Finn said, his tone almost a taunting one, “if you had the chance to get to know your child, someone who’s flesh and blood, a part of you, wouldn’t you take it?”

Bellamy glared at him, knowing damn well what he was doing. He’d phrased it like that deliberately, trying to use the past, the child that was gone, to make Bellamy relate somehow.

“Thought so,” Finn said, sounding satisfied with himself for drawing that comparison.

Bellamy clenched his fist, not saying anything. If it was possible, he felt even angrier now than he had at practice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“He just seems like he’s been really on edge,” Miller reiterated as he stepped out onto the porch. “I thought you’d wanna know.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Clarke couldn’t say that she was entirely surprised. Even though she’d managed to calm Bellamy down in the shower last night, he’d still seemed stressed when he left for practice that morning. And judging by everything Miller had told her about how it’d gone, the stress had just built up even more once he’d gotten there. He probably should have just taken the day off to try to unwind. Not that unwinding was really possible right now. For either of them.

“I mean, trust me, I get it,” Miller said. “Sometimes I wish I could just chew those guys out like that. They don’t listen. They can be annoying. But they’re kids, you know? He’s usually more patient with ‘em.”

“Yeah. He’s just dealing with a lot.” She wasn’t sure how much Bellamy had clued his best friend in to what was all going on, so she figured she’d just leave it vague for now.

Miller had just started to say something else when Bellamy’s car pulled up. He got out, looked at the two of them for a moment, then said to Miller, “Hey. How’d the rest of practice go?”

“Fine,” Miller answered. “Blocking got better.”

Bellamy nodded, looking down, as if he didn’t want to look Miller in the eye. “Well, I’ll be back tomorrow,” he informed him. “I’ll be better.”

Miller nodded, too, hesitating for a moment before he offered some advice. “You might wanna apologize to ‘em. They’re not used to their coach being so . . . demotivating.”

_But their coach is having a rough time_ , Clarke thought. Of course, being Bellamy’s wife, she was biased, but . . . everyone said things they didn’t really mean sometimes. She didn’t want him beating himself up over it. There were probably some coaches who yelled at their athletes like that every day.

“See you, Clarke,” Miller said, stepping down off the porch.

“Bye.” She stood there and watched as Bellamy grabbed Miller’s arm and quietly said something to him. Sounded like an apology. Miller told him not to sweat it and went on his way.

When Bellamy came inside, the first thing he said was, “Don’t lecture me.”

“What? I’m not gonna lecture you.” She was willing to be as patient with him as possible, but he didn’t need to be getting upset with her, too. “Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his arm to stop him from heading up the stairs. “Talk to me.”

His eyes bore into hers for a few long seconds, a heated gaze that actually kind of caught her off guard. The kind where his eyes flittered down to her lips. “I don’t wanna talk,” he growled huskily, right before leaning in for a kiss. He kissed her deeply, his entire mouth latched onto hers, tongue immediately darting out to gain entrance. It was the kind of kiss he gave her when they were about to throw down. Hard. His hands behaved similarly, wasting no time scrunching up her shirt and lifting it over her head.

“Bellamy, wait,” she said, putting her hands on his chest to push him back a bit. “Slow down.” She wasn’t opposed to going fast sometimes, but . . . she wasn’t even ready.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“No, it’s okay. Just . . .” As much as she loved having sex with him, she would have loved it if he’d decided to talk to her. She felt like that would have made both of them feel better. But he pulled her in close, rubbed his denim-covered groin against hers, making it quite obvious what he wanted. And she would’ve been lying if she’d said she didn’t want it, too. Even with everything going on, sex felt . . . simple. Like it would be enough to just block everything else out for a little while. And wasn’t that what they both needed?

He lifted her up, using that change in height to press a hot, hungry kiss to her cleavage as he carried her over to the couch. He stepped out of his shoes on the way, then laid her down and sat back on his knees. While she repositioned herself with her head on the pillow, he peeled off his shirt, his eyes remaining locked with hers all the while. He was definitely in the zone. Whatever he was about to give her was sure as hell going to be . . . intense.

Her chest heaved with desire as he undressed her from her shorts and underwear. The couch made things kind of clumsy, but he was still able to do it quickly, and the second her pussy was exposed, he shoved two fingers up inside it, wriggling them every which direction to get her juices flowing. She still wasn’t able to get as naturally wet as she’d been before having the baby, and without any lube downstairs, she needed him to get her going.

“Oh!” she moaned loudly, reveling in the sheer width of his fingers when he added another one. Bellamy and his huge hands. They really did work wonders. And more importantly, they prepared her for that other huge thing he had.

With half his hand up inside her, he grinned, using his free hand to grope himself through his jeans. Clarke closed her eyes just for a second, and in that second, she heard his zipper slide down, so she had to open them again. He shoved his jeans down just far enough to let his cock out of his underwear. It was hard and already dripping pre-cum.

“You want more?” he asked with a mischievous smirk on his face.

She tried to nod, but she didn’t know that ‘more’ was going to be a fourth finger until she felt it squeeze inside. “Oh my god,” she yelped, instinctively tightening. Usually he stopped at two or three. She’d taken four before, but only on rare occasions.

“You good?” he asked.

She was glad he wasn’t so caught up in this that he forgot to check in with her. “Yeah,” she said, forcing herself to relax a bit. Sure, it was . . . a lot. But it was all Bellamy. It was so tight that his fingers could barely move, but the friction alone sent shock waves up her spine. Plus, watching him stroke his own cock was a thing of beauty.

“How much can you take?” he asked, trying to press his fingers in deeper. She felt knuckles, but it was definitely a strain. Honestly, she didn’t think she could possibly take anything more, but Bellamy tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in on her pussy as he poked his thumb against it.

She felt her eyes widen at the mere thought of having his whole fucking hand inside her. They’d never tried fisting before, and she’d never had any real desire to. It looked painful. “I can’t,” she told him, when she felt just the tip of his thumb trying to find a way in.

He stopped right away, withdrawing his whole hand.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.

“It’s okay.” He lay down on top of her, holding his dick with one hand as he positioned it at her entrance. And since the massive fingering he’d just given her had stretched her open pretty wide, he slid in easily and began thrusting right away.

“Oh, fuck,” she swore, wrapping both her arms and legs around him. Every move he made was so powerful, she felt like the whole couch was moving. He went fast and deep right from the start, so deep that his balls smacked against her ass. It definitely wasn’t romantic, but it was doing the trick, making her mind shut off. All she could think about was the feel of him inside her, how each thrust made her core just . . . rattle.

Bellamy was beyond saying words, instead communicating his pleasure with grunts and groans. The only time he stopped moving was when he sat up to shove his pants down a little more. The loss of his cock filled her with an immediate ache, though, and she arched her hips up off the couch in a fruitless attempt to try to get it back. With a smug look on his face, he hooked both his arms underneath her knees and pulled her towards him, right back onto his cock. He held her there and jackhammered his hips into her. She wanted to cum so badly that she reached down to rub her clit, and just seconds later, she was a goner. He straight-up growled and thrust into her so far that she swore there was no space left between their groins. Slamming into her a few more times, he followed her over that orgasmic edge and then collapsed on her when it was over. He stayed inside her, though, his dick still pulsing, sending little zaps through her body.

“Do you feel better?” she asked him.

His face hovered mere inches away from hers, and he nodded dazedly. “Yeah.”

She did, too. Of course, she wasn’t sure how long that feeling would last, for either of them, so it was probably best to enjoy it while they could.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bellamy insisted on accompanying Clarke over to Finn’s house the next day, but he promised—absolutely _promised_ —that this time he would stay in the car. Avery was in the backseat, so he wasn’t gonna just leave her in there.

He felt like his blood was boiling as he just sat there and watched Clarke talk to Finn at his front door. They’d gone over what she was going to say several times that morning, so she was ready. He’d been hoping this wouldn’t take too long, because there wasn’t much to discuss. The contract was set and signed, and this was gonna happen. Whether he wanted it to or not. Unfortunately, he’d been sitting out there for five minutes, waiting impatiently for Clarke to come back to the car. It didn’t look like she and Finn were arguing, though, so maybe they were just making sure they were on the same page or something.

Avery cooed from her rear-facing car seat, so he reached back and put his hand in front of her, waiting for her to grab at it. She was doing that a lot lately, and her grip was getting stronger.

When Clarke finally came back to the car, she breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“All set?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She looked like a thousand pounds of pressure had just been lifted from her shoulders. “He said Sunday works best for him. That’d work for us, too, right?”

“I guess so.” Whatever day of the week his stupid visits fell on, it’d be his least favorite day of the week. No doubt about that.

“Let’s just not think about it for the rest of the day,” she suggested.

He’d try his best, but truthfully, the only time he’d stopped thinking about it had been last night on the couch with her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing in front of his team, Bellamy went ahead and laid out his apology for acting like a jackass. It didn’t need to be too drawn-out and flowery. Just straight to the point.

“I need to apologize to all of you, especially you, Smith, for losing my temper yesterday,” he said. “I know coaches do that all the time, but you guys know that’s not the kind of coach I am, and it’s not the coach I wanna be. It’s my job to teach you, not to tear you down. So I’m sorry.”

None of his players said anything. He didn’t expect them to.

“Let’s get back to work,” he said, handing the reins over to Miller for conditioning. He made his way over to Clarke, who had planted herself on the bleachers with Avery. Usually, she didn’t come to practice, but they’d decided to spend the day together. “How was that?” he asked her.

“Good. Sincere, short but sweet,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re not the first coach to yell at your team.”

“Yeah, but some of these kids already get yelled at by their parents all the time. They don’t need to hear it from me.” He wasn’t going to let himself off the hook, especially not when a lot of these guys used to watch him play and look up to him.

“I wish I got to watch you practice instead of them,” she said, smiling at him.

“Is that what you used to do?” he teased.

“Yeah, Raven and I used to hide underneath the bleachers.”

“Really?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Oh.” He wouldn’t have put it past her high school self to be that thirsty.

Avery made a noise, almost like she was trying to say something, and Clarke said, “Aww. You got yourself a cheerleader.”

“More than one.” He liked having both of them at practice, even if some of his players were probably secretly hoping they’d get to watch his wife breastfeed. “You think she’ll be a cheerleader someday?”

Clarke shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You think she’ll date a football player?”

“Hmm. Would you let her?”

He liked to think he wouldn’t become one of those parents who tried to control his daughter’s love life—like Abby had—but he’d grown up in the jock world, so he definitely had some concerns.

****

_“We gon’ party tonight! We gon’ party tonight, boys!” Winston chanted as he danced around on the sideline, pumping the team up._

_“Nice drive, Blake,” Coach Desai said._

_“Thanks.” Bellamy didn’t focus too long on the compliment, because he was too busy watching the punt. It was a good one, all the way down to the five yard line. Yeah, their lead in this game wasn’t going anywhere. One quarter left, and if they kept playing the way they were, it was as good as won. Hell, maybe Coach Lightbourne would even put him in again. Brady had a sore ankle, so they were trying to rest him for next week, when they were set to face a tougher team. Bellamy didn’t care who the hell they were facing. He just wanted to play._

_“Yo,” Winston said, clapping him excitedly on the back._ “Yo. _You ready to get laid tonight? ‘cause it’s gonna happen. You just got your first TD, bro! You scored. Now you’re gonna score some more. Welcome to the big leagues, man.”_

_The big leagues? It was one touchdown in a blowout game. It’d get him some attention from some girls, sure, but nothing like he’d gotten in high school. And he wasn’t really sure he wanted their attention anyway._

_After the game, he went to the party at Winston and Brady’s fraternity. It was pretty wild, like their parties always were, but they never had to worry about the cops coming to break them up. Athlete privilege and all that. It was a real thing._

_Normally at these parties, he had a few drinks, talked to a few people, and then cut out early to go home and look at pictures of Clarke on his phone. But he didn’t wanna do that tonight, not after Thanksgiving and his failed attempt at visiting her. Obviously she wasn’t sitting around looking at pictures of him. Besides, this had been a big game for him. He felt like he deserved to celebrate._

_He met a girl from Miami with bleach blonde hair and a tan that looked more fake than real. Her boobs looked fake, too, but still good. She was pretty, but not the natural kind of pretty. She’d paid money for her beauty._

_“That was a really amazing play you ran today,” she told him as he handed her another drink._

_“It was alright.” He’d run some flashier, more miraculous ones as a Rocket._

_“Don’t be so modest,” she said. “You’re so good. So fast. One minute, you were on the fifty, and the next you were in the end zone. The coach should put you in more. You should be our starter.”_

_He had to admit, it was nice having his ego stroked like that. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, though. The chances that he’d see any action in the next game were slim to none. But . . . he felt like he was on the right track to see a different kind of action tonight._

_“I’m just a freshman,” he reminded her. “I gotta work my way up.”_

_“I bet you work hard,” she said, grinning at him flirtatiously. “And for what it’s worth, you don’t play like a freshman.”_

Don’t fuck like a freshman, either, _he thought, looking her up and down. Screw pretty. She was smoking hot. There were plenty of guys at that party who would’ve killed to fuck her. But so far, she was only showing interest in him._

_“Find me later,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek before she walked away, drink in hand, to rejoin her friends. She exaggerated the movement of her hips as she went, and he tilted his head to get a better look at her ass. Not bad. It was probably fake, just like her tits, but at least it looked real._

_One of his teammates, a wide receiver named Gabriel, sauntered up to him and asked, “You know her?”_

_He shrugged. “Guess I do now. Her name’s Stephanie. I think.”_

_“She’s into you,” Gabriel said._

_“Yeah.” He probably wasn’t as into her as she was to him, but once they started . . . it was sex. He’d enjoy it no matter what. This wouldn’t be like it’d been with Gina. Stephanie wasn’t a friend; she could just be . . . a one-night stand. No strings attached. He used to do no strings attached stuff all the time. No problem._

_“You gonna go for it?” Gabriel asked._

_His dick was saying yes, but the rest of him wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know.”_

_Gabriel filled up another glass from the keg, took a big swig, and asked, “You got a girl back home, right? I think Brady mentioned that.”_

_“Yeah. Well, no, I_ had _a girl back home,” he quickly corrected. “Sort of. Not really. I don’t anymore.” If she’d been his girl, she would’ve been there to hang out with him over break, the way they’d said they would._

_“I broke up with my girlfriend last year,” Gabriel said. “She goes to school out on the west coast. Just couldn’t make it work.”_

_Having gotten to know his teammates decently well, Bellamy knew Gabriel was one of the only guys who actually cared about having a serious relationship, and probably one of the only guys who’d ever had one. “Did you love her?” Bellamy questioned._

_Gabriel answered without hesitation. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Keep tellin’ myself I’ll find someone else, though. Maybe that girl over there.” He motioned to a brunette who was giving one of them the eye. “Who knows?”_

_“Go find out,” Bellamy urged him. And as Gabriel headed in that direction, he realized that he needed to take his own advice and go do the same thing. Although, the ‘someone else’ he was looking for wasn’t going to be a relationship. Just someone who was willing to throw down. Because at this point, he was willing, too._

_Even though he probably should have played it cooler with his bleach blonde fangirl and waited a little longer before approaching her again, he found her in the next room and interrupted her conversation with her friends when he said, “Hey, Stephanie?”_

_She turned around, laughed a little, and informed him, “It’s Sarah.”_

_“Right.” Damn, forgetting a girl’s name was often a one-way ticket to Rosy Palm Land, so he tried to joke his way out of it. “Guess I’ve had one too many drinks.”_

_Thankfully, she was still smitten. Laughed again and everything._

_“I was just wondering,” he said, leaning in closer to her, “you wanna go someplace?”_

_Her eyes traveled straight down to his crotch, and she grinned. “Your place or mine?”_

_It didn’t really matter, did it? None of this mattered._

****

“No, no football players,” Bellamy decided as the ones behind him attempted to do push-ups in unison. “They’ve only got one thing on their minds.”

“Speaking from experience?” she teased.

“Yeah, of course. In fact, I might not let her date anybody.” He was probably gonna be a paranoid as fuck dad, because he knew firsthand what hormonal boys were thinking. He empathized with Abby a lot more than he used to. “But who knows,” he said, “maybe she won’t even be a cheerleader.”

Clarke shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Yeah.” He smiled at his little girl, and she smiled right back at him. “But if she is, we’ll go to all her cheer competitions.”

“Oh, definitely.”

He pictured the two of them sitting up in the stands, watching her perform, and a disturbing thought occurred to him: What if it wasn’t just the two of them? He went ahead and voiced that concern when he asked, “You think Finn would wanna tag along?”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Bellamy . . .”

“Sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about all the things we might end up sharing with him.”

She shook her head and said, “No, it’s not gonna happen. He’ll probably have another family by then. And we’ll have ours. You and me and Avery. And probably a couple more kids.”

That got a smile out of him, but more than that . . . it got him thinking. A couple more kids? He liked the sound of that.


	92. Chapter 92

_Chapter 92_

Wriggling her purple bunny over his daughter’s head, Bellamy waited for her to take notice of it. She was propped up by pillows on the couch and at first seemed more interested in the TV than anything else. When she did finally look at her favorite toy, she immediately reached for one of the floppy ears and gave it a little tug.

“You got it. You got it,” he said. “Can I get it back?” He was impressed when she held on tightly. Or as tightly as she could. “No?” According to everything he and Clarke had read, Avery was about a little bit ahead of most infants when it came to her motor skills development. At this rate, she’d probably be walking in no time.

Clarke emerged from the laundry room with a basket of unfolded dry clothes and said, “She looks cute in that outfit, don’t you think?”

“She always looks cute.” He let go of the bunny, not surprised that she immediately tried to put its head in her mouth. _Everything_ was going in her mouth these days, mostly her own fingers.

“You wanna help me with this?” Clarke asked, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“Sure.” He grabbed a towel and started to fold it, smirking when one of her bras fell out, straight onto his lap.

“I feel like I do so much laundry these days,” she said. “So much housewife stuff in general. Never thought I’d be so good at it, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” he echoed, glancing up at the clock. Twenty ‘til 1:00. Great. Finn could show up any time now.

“Are you listening to me?” she asked.

“Kind of,” he admitted. “Just watchin’ the clock.”

Folding quickly, almost expertly, at this point, she reminded him, “It’s only a couple hours. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Except it won’t, ‘cause we gotta do the same thing next week. And the week after that. And the week after that.”

“Only for twelve weeks.”

“Only?” While he admired her persistence to look on the bright side here, part of him wished she’d commiserate a little more with him.

“I’m trying to be positive, Bellamy,” she said, folding the last item in the laundry basket. “No offense, but you’re really not making that very easy.”

He knew he wasn’t. For weeks now, their roles had been switched, because almost all throughout her pregnancy, he’d been the one trying to keep her calm, the one in the supportive role. And somehow, that now seemed to be her job. “You’re right,” he said, stacking the towels on the coffee table. “I shouldn’t be here.” He got up off the couch and headed towards the door.

“What? Bellamy . . .” she said, sounding disappointed.

Stepping into his shoes, he said, “I’m only gonna make things worse, more awkward. I might as well just go.”

“It’s gonna be awkward no matter what,” she argued. “I was kind of banking on having you here to--”

“Remember what happened last time you and Finn and I were all in a room together?” he cut in. “I’ll just end up gettin’ pissed. I should leave, come back after he’s gone.”

She huffed incredulously, “What, so now I have to supervise his whole visit by myself?”

Shrugging helplessly, he stuck to his guns and said, “I think it’s for the best. I’m sorry.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, because he didn’t want her to change his mind. So he just left. Felt like a jackass for leaving, but he couldn’t stay. No. He couldn’t just sit there and watch Finn get to do the whole dad thing. It would infuriate him too much.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke was pissed that afternoon. She was pissed at Bellamy for leaving, pissed at her dryer for not getting all the laundry as dry as she’d wanted, and pissed at Finn for running late. At 1:10, he still hadn’t shown up, so she just sat on the couch with Avery, absentmindedly channel-surfing, never really settling on any one thing to watch.

“Maybe it’ll just be you and me today,” she pondered, sort of liking that thought. “Wouldn’t that be something if biological dad just forgot?” She grunted. “Wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That’d be alright, though, wouldn’t it? We love our mother-daughter time.” Unfortunately, right after she said that, the doorbell rang, signaling the end of that precious time together. “I think I jinxed it,” she said, groaning as she got up to open the door.

“Hey,” Finn said, smiling.

Since she was less excited about this whole get-together than he was, she greeted him with a criticism instead. “You’re late.”

“My car wouldn’t start.”

Oldest excuse in the book. She wasn’t sure whether she believed it or not. Although . . . Finn’s car had always been pretty crappy. “Well, we’re not adding ten more minutes onto the end of this, just so you know,” she informed him.

He sighed, flapped his arms against his sides, and said, “Alright, next time I’m leave early.”

Reluctantly, she opened the door wider for him and allowed him to come in. Finn went straight to the couch so he could scoop Avery up and hold her, and Clarke immediately felt less pissed off at her husband, because . . . maybe he’d been smart to leave. Seeing this, this sight that just looked so incredibly _not_ meant to be, was difficult even for her. It probably would have been impossible for him.

“Hey, sweet pea,” he said, smiling down at her.

She made a face as she shut the door. _Sweet pea?_ His nickname, his choice, she supposed, but she was so used to hearing Avery called _Princess_. 

“You glad to see me?” Finn asked her. “You’re not crying this time. That’s a good start.”

_Dammit_ , Clarke thought. Silly as it was, she’d really been hoping that Avery would throw a fuss when Finn held her.

“Where’s Bellamy?” he asked.

“He’s . . .” It dawned on her as she tried to answer that she didn’t even know where he’d gone, so she just said, “He’ll be back later.” Hopefully he’d gone over to Octavia’s or his mom’s. Maybe talking to one of them would do him some good.

“Works for me.” Finn sat Avery up on his knee and started to bounce her up and down. She didn’t seem to know what to think of that, but . . . she still didn’t cry.

Clarke tried her best to stay occupied in the kitchen, cooking far more than she and Bellamy could reasonably eat at one meal while Finn played around in the living room with Avery. She kept one eye on them at all times, though, and listened in closely to what he was saying. He kept calling himself Daddy, saying things like, ‘You like it when Daddy plays with you, don’t you?’ and that just drove her up the wall. Not today, but at some point, they were going to have to have a conversation about what Avery would call him someday. Finn. Just Finn. Unless she herself indicated that she wanted to call him something else, then she was just going to call him by his name.

“I think she’s falling asleep,” he said after about an hour and a half of playing and cuddle time.

Turning away from the casserole she’d begun putting together, Clarke tried not to dwell on the fact that Avery was dozing off in Finn’s arms just like she often dozed off in Bellamy’s. “Yeah. This is usually when she starts her naptime.”

“So you guys have a whole routine, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d go crazy without one.” The fact of the matter was that having him there was actually a major disruption to their daily routine, but she just had to remind herself that it wouldn’t last forever. Only twelve weeks.

“You know, Clarke,” he said, “I don’t know if I ever apologized to you for how I reacted when you first--”

“Can we not?” she cut in. “You didn’t come over here to make nice with me. You came to spend time with her. So just . . . do that.” Someday, after Bellamy had formally adopted Avery (and _only_ after then), perhaps she’d be willing to hear Finn’s apology.

Clarke was about to resume cooking when Avery finally began to cry.

“Oh, uh . . . what’s happening?” Finn asked, looking nervous.

“She might be hungry,” Clarke said, heading into the living room.

“No, I think she used her diaper,” he said, holding his hand to his nose. “Holy cow, that stinks. What do I do?”

She enjoyed getting a glimpse of his utter cluelessness when it came to one of the most basic parenting skills imaginable, so instead of immediately taking the baby from him, she just stood in front of him and stated the obvious. “Change it.”

“I . . . I don’t know how,” he admitted, sounding a little . . . embarrassed.

Of course he didn’t. Inwardly, she got a good laugh out of that. But outwardly, she said, “Come on,” and motioned him to follow her upstairs. He needed to learn, because someday, he’d have other kids. Ones that were really his.

She brought him into the nursery, had him lay Avery on the changing table, and showed him how to do it. It really wasn’t rocket science, but he still watched with wide eyes, as if he were intimidated by the whole thing.

“There,” she said, securing the new diaper into place. “Just like that.” She handed him the dirty one, happy to make him responsible for disposing of it.

“You make it look so easy,” he said.

“Well, I’ve had lots of practice.” She was glad that had sounded like she was throwing some shade at him, because she meant to. “You should see Bellamy do it. He’s even faster than I am.” Actually, she probably had him beat, just because she was at home more and had changed even more diapers than he had. But it didn’t hurt to brag him up a bit.

“Gotta say, I’m kinda surprised he isn’t here today,” Finn said, dropping the dirty diaper into a small trash can that she would happily make him empty outside. “I thought he’d be watching me like a hawk. Where’d he go?”

Since she still hadn’t heard from him, she still didn’t know. So once again, she kept her response vague: “Out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although his intention had been to go to the gym, Bellamy ended up at Eligius with Murphy and Miller. Neither one of them had had anything going on that day, so it worked out for them to just bro down with some beers and a couple shots. He didn’t tell them that he’d fled home to avoid Finn, because he didn’t want them asking him about it. He just wanted to hang out, get a little buzzed, and forget what was going on in his home while he was here.

“Okay, would you rather . . .” Murphy drew it out as he brainstormed another awful scenario. “Watch your parents have sex, or have your parents watch you have sex?”

Bellamy made a face and reached for the last shot left on the table. “Neither. Do I have to choose?”

“That’s the game,” Murphy said.

He downed the shot and decided, “Fine, I’d rather my mom watch me, ‘cause I’m pretty sure she walked in on me once in high school anyway.”

Miller laughed. “With Clarke?”

“Well, it was probably more than once, so . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know, possibly.”

“Yeah, I’d have to go with that one, too,” Miller said. “My turn?”

“Yep.”

“Would you rather . . . lose a testicle . . .” he began.

“No,” Murphy answered right away.

“Wait for it. Or never have sex again for the rest of your life?”

Murphy snorted. “Well . . .”

“Yeah, decision made. Take my testicle,” Bellamy said. Just the thought made him wince, though.

“Yeah,” Miller agreed. “That’s what I thought.”

Bellamy finished off the bottle in his hand, feeling like he wasn’t quite done drinking yet. Finn was still going to be over at his house for another half an hour, so he was gonna need a little more help making it through that. “Alright, you guys keep playin’,” he said, sliding out of the booth. “I’m gonna go restock.”

“Again?” Murphy said.

“Yeah, why not?” It wasn’t like he was slurring or stumbling or anything. He was fine.

Diyoza was serving another customer when he walked up to the bar, so he waited until she was done and sauntered towards him to blurt out, “I need another beer.”

She took the empty bottle from him and tossed it, but instead of handing him a new one, she gave him a questioning look and asked, “What number you on?”

“I don’t know. Four, five. It takes more than that to get me drunk.” He wasn’t even really trying to _get_ drunk. Just a little . . . lighthearted.

“Sorry, I think I’m gonna cut you off,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because you drove here.”

“I’m fine, though,” he insisted. “Come on, Diyoza . . .”

She shook her head stubbornly and walked away, down to the other end of the bar.

“Come on,” he said again, feeling like he wasn’t even close to his limit.

****

_“Yeah, I always knew you could knock ‘em back, boy!” Winston exclaimed over the pulsating music blaring throughout the entire nightclub._

_“About time you loosened up, you son of a bitch,” Brady said, signaling the bartender to refill their drinks. “That’s what good pussy does to a guy, am I right? You got some the other night?”_

_“I got some,” he boasted. He and Stephanie—or was it Sarah?—had gone back to her apartment and fooled around for a while. It hadn’t been the best sex he’d ever had, but it definitely hadn’t been the worst._

_“Gotta get some more now,” Brady said. He motioned to the crowd of club-goers around them and said, “Look at all these cunts just waitin’ to be fucked.”_

_Bellamy tensed up a bit, because even in his drunken haze, he wouldn’t have used that word to talk about girls. Not any girl. Not ever._

_“I’m gonna go get some,” Brady announced, walking off with beer in hand. “You get some, Blake!”_

_“Get some!” Winston resounded as he followed Brady into the crowd._

_Yeah, he planned on it. He wanted to down another drink first, though, because if he got drunk enough, then maybe eventually all the blonde girls who approached him would start to look like . . ._

_“Hey, Bellamy.”_

_As if on cue, a blonde he faintly recognized sauntered up to the bar and stood next to him with one hand on her hip._

_“Hey . . .” It took him a moment to mentally scrub his mind enough to locate her name. “Andrea.”_

_“Very good. You remembered. I didn’t think you would. You were pretty wasted last week.”_

_He was as shocked as she was, honestly. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d only remembered because she’d been a little more brazen than the other girls at that party, telling him all the things she wanted to do to him._

_“No, I remember,” he said. “We almost hooked up. But your boyfriend--”_

_“Ex-boyfriend now,” she readily informed him._

_“Oh, really?’_

_“Yeah.” Her eyes gleamed with a look of mischief. Clearly, she had one thing on her mind. She wanted to screw a football player, and he was more than willing to help her out with that._

_The bathrooms in that club were all packed, so they ended up going outside, literally into a back alley. She wasn’t wearing underwear, so it was easy access for him once she hiked her skirt up and bent over. He lowered his pants to his knees, slapped a condom on, stood behind her, and started ramming into her hard from behind. If some cop happened to wander up on them, he’d think he was having sex with a prostitute, because that was probably what it looked like._

_Andrea was very vocal. Her voice got kind of whiny and high-pitched, and she made a noise with every single thrust. Things like, “Uh! Oh, yeah! Yeah! Harder! Fuck me harder!” She sounded like she was trying to be a porn star, which actually turned him off a little. It was too much, didn’t even seem natural. Sometimes less was more, so he tried to tune her out and instead focused on the sight of his cock going in and out of her. She wasn’t the tightest girl he’d ever fucked, but she still felt pretty damn good._

_Even though it was just a hook-up, he still wanted to get the girl off, too, so he waited until she came to do the same. Out of habit, he pulled out, ready to cum all over her ass and back instead, but when he remembered he had a condom on, he shoved his dick back in, letting her feel his release. It felt good._

_And just like that, it was done. No strings, no attachments, no expectations. He stepped back, pulled his pants up, and cockily asked, “Satisfied?”_

_“Very,” she said, pulling her skirt back down._

_Of course she was. He knew what he was doing. Hell, he’d been doing it for years. Sex was . . . a really easy thing for him. Especially when it was meaningless like this._

_“Don’t tell anyone you fucked me in an alley,” she said. “It’ll ruin what’s left of my good reputation.”_

_He laughed a little, having a hard time picturing a girl like Andrea with any kind of good reputation at all. Maybe her friends didn’t know she hooked up with relative strangers, or maybe her parents thought she was at home studying tonight instead of living it up at this club. Whatever. It really was no concern of his._

_He stayed out there for a minute longer after she’d headed in, wondering what his reputation was shaping up to be at UCF. People were starting to recognize him more; girls were throwing themselves at him. It was starting to feel like high school, but on steroids._

_Reputation was a funny thing. For some people, it changed all the time, but for athletes like him, there were just some stereotypes that were easier to play into than fight against. A lot of his teammates had been starting to think he was a no-fun loner who never went out and partied, but that wasn’t the real him. He could drink, and he could score as well off the field as he could on it. In that way, he was probably a lot more like Brady than he cared to admit._

****

Since Charmaine Diyoza was being a complete buzzkill, Bellamy caught the attention of the only other person working. He didn’t know her, but she looked like she was barely even old enough to serve alcohol. Maybe she was the one who’d taken Clarke’s job.

“Hey,” he said, flashing her his most charming smile. “Can I have another beer?”

She smiled back at him and said, “Sure,” without questioning anything. And that was all it took to get another bottle in his hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clarke made Finn leave right at 4:00, because the agreement was three hours, not three hours and a minute. Of course she’d hoped that Bellamy would come home around that same time, but he didn’t. No big deal, because maybe he’d just wanted to make _sure_ Finn was gone before he arrived home. By 4:30, she was feeling a little lonely and texted him, though, and by 5:00, she was starting to get worried, so she gave him a call. She felt a lot better when he answered the phone.

“Hey, are you on your way home?” she asked.

The front door open, and in he walked. “You could say that.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, set her phone down, and got up to go hug him. “I missed you today,” she said.

“Missed you, too,” he said. “How’d it go? Do I wanna know?”

He probably didn’t, so she wasn’t going to go into detail. “It was fine. It went fast. He just played with her, and I showed him how to change her diaper.”

Bellamy frowned. “Don’t do that. He doesn’t need any parenting skills.”

“Well, he doesn’t have many.” She doubted he’d be going out of his way to change Avery’s diaper next week. He’d seemed pretty grossed out by the whole thing.

“Hey, speaking of skills . . .” Bellamy trailed off, bending his knees a bit so he could press his groin up against her. He put his hands on her ass and gave it a good squeeze, too, grinning suggestively.

“You really wanna have sex right now?” she said. It’d been . . . kind of a crazy day for both of them. She wouldn’t have minded a good cuddle on the couch.

“Yeah,” he said, snaking his hands up the back of her shirt. “I was a jerk today when I just left like that. I gotta make it up to you.”

_Jerk_ wasn’t exactly the right word, but she _had_ been a little upset with him, so if he wanted to make it up to her . . . “I guess I’m not opposed to that,” she said.

He tried fiddling with her bra clasp underneath her shirt, but even though it was something he could usually unhook pretty smoothly, his fingers were sort of fumbling all around. He didn’t seem the most coordinated, and that probably had something to do with the alcohol she smelled on his breath. Eventually, he stopped trying to undress her there and just lifted her into his arms carrying her up the stairs and into their bedroom. He laid her down, got on top of her, and kissed her sloppily, lips and hands going everywhere.

“You’re so sexy,” he murmured against her lips as his hands traced up and down her sides. “Your body . . .”

She moaned, spreading her legs so he could comfortably settle in between. “Yours, too.” She’d changed into pajama shorts and a t-shirt, but he still had his jeans on, and they were in the way. “Take your clothes off,” she whispered.

He groaned, sat up, and pulled his shirt over his head, but he wasn’t his usual smooth self with that, either. His eyes weren’t entirely focused on her like they’d been the other night when they’d fucked on the couch, and when he laid down on her again, he didn’t even hold himself up. He put all his weight on her, buried his face against the side of her neck, and pressed lazy kisses to her skin. It didn’t seem like he was going to be able to really ravage her the way he usually did. He was just sort of out of it.

“You gonna make it?” she teased, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh-huh.” He sucked on the side of her neck for a moment, then just laid there with her, holding her, face still buried. The next words he said came out as a barely audible mumble: “Let’s make a baby.”

She laughed, thinking he was joking. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Yeah, she had. Barely. Was he not joking? As he started kissing her neck again, she just lay there, absorbing that. “Bellamy,” she said, pushing back on his chest a bit. He lifted his head, and she gave him a serious—and seriously confused—look.

“What?” he said. “I wanna get you pregnant.”

She felt her eyebrows shoot upward in surprise. “Are you serious?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

She narrowed her eyes, giving him a skeptical look. “You seem kinda drunk.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I had a few drinks, that’s all.”

It seemed like more than a few. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Yeah.”

If that was true, then he had to understand why it was catching her off guard. They both knew very well just how big of a responsibility a baby was.

She didn’t know how to respond to all of this so she just lay there, and he just remained on top of her, his eager smile gradually fading. “Just forget it,” he ended up muttering as he got off of her.

“It’s just . . . I just got done being pregnant a couple months ago,” she pointed out. “I can’t go through all of that again right now. It takes a toll.” Plus, they already had their hands full with a three-month old. Was it really a good idea to add another baby into the mix?

“No, I know,” he said, lying beside her. “You’re right, I’m drunk. Just ignore me.”

“I mean, I _wanna_ have a baby with you,” she assured him. “And we will. Someday.” She tried to grab his hand, but he rolled over onto his side, facing away from her.

“Just not today,” he said. “I get it. It’s fine. Let’s just go to bed. I’m tired.”

Was he, though? It was 5:00 in the afternoon. He wasn’t _tired_ ; he was embarrassed. Probably because it wasn’t just the alcohol that had made him say these things.


	93. Chapter 93

_Chapter 93_

The sun had barely even started coming up when Bellamy walked out of the house the next day. Keys in hand, he headed to his car, feeling like he needed coffee or something. Despite being up so early, he wasn’t really feeling all that energetic.

“Bellamy!”

He turned around as Clarke scurried outside after him. “Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said.

Frowning, she came closer to him. “Where are you going?”

“To work,” he answered.

“At 6:00 a.m.?”

Was it really still _that_ early? “The field’s gettin’ really bad with all the rain we’ve had,” he tried to explain. “I’m gonna go mow it before practice.” There was riding mower in the mechanical shed attached to the shop room. He had a key.

“And you weren’t gonna tell me?” she said, narrowing her eyes at him almost . . . accusingly.

Reaching out, he tucked a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “Thought I’d just let you sleep.”

Clearly she didn’t interpret that romantically, and he didn’t really blame her for that. He should’ve let her know she was leaving. “Okay, look . . .” She took a step back, waiting a couple seconds before continuing. “I think I know what’s going on here. You’re avoiding me.”

He laughed at that. “You’re my wife. Why would I avoid you? And . . . how?” They lived in the same house, slept in the same bed. He couldn’t have avoided her even if he’d wanted to. And he _didn’t_ want to.

“By doing stuff like this,” she said, “heading to work early so we don’t have to . . .” She trailed off, sighed heavily, then looked down at her feet and quietly mumbled, “I think we should talk about what you said last night.”

Even though he wasn’t avoiding her, he was gonna do his best to avoid this. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” she said, an impatient look in her eyes when she lifted her head again. “You know.”

In that split-second, he made a decision to _completely_ swerve around the topic of conversation. “No, I don’t. I don’t remember what I said.”

She squinted suspiciously. “Really? You were _that_ drunk?”

He shrugged, continuing to play dumb. “I guess.”

“Bellamy . . .” She rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t tell whether that was because she didn’t believe or because she _did_ believe him and was pissed about it. “You said you wanted to have another baby.”

 _Because it just slipped out_ , he thought. The alcohol had made his lips a little loose, and . . . what was the expression? Loose lips sink ships? “Well, I do,” he said. “Someday.”

“But you made it sound like now.”

 _Dammit_ , he thought, wishing he’d had just a drink or two less. He wouldn’t have said that if he’d been completely coherent. “Like I said, I don’t remember,” he lied. “Look, babe, I really gotta go get this mowing done. I’ll see you later, alright?” He bent down and kissed her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said, looking less than satisfied with the way their first conversation of the day had gone. She sulked back towards the front door as he climbed in the car and started it up. He waited until he was heading down the road to let the fake smile fall from his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Miller came into the office, he looked way more energetic than Bellamy felt. “Did you see the field?” he said excitedly. “It looks great.”

“I just mowed it,” Bellamy informed him. It’d taken him a while, but now that he was done, he was just sitting at his desk, trying to think of something else to do to stay busy.

“Oh. You got here early then,” Miller said. “And here I thought you’d be sleepin’ it off.”

“Nope.” He hadn’t slept much.

“Oh, here’s your letter, by the way.” Miller took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and apologized, “Sorry, it’s so late. I suck at writing.”

“Thanks.” They had a whole stack of letters now, from not only family, but Raven, Murphy, Harper . . . everyone. Apparently Lexa was also working on one, and Octavia said Lincoln was going to write one, too. That kind of made Bellamy feel like a jerk for not being nicer to the guy this past year.

“You think you’re still gonna need letters?” Miller asked. “Or . . .”

“I don’t know.” With the way they were going about things now, he felt like he had no idea what to expect. “To be honest, I’m not even sure I deserve anyone sayin’ nice things about me.”

“Oh, no,” Miller said. “You in the dog house?”

“Probably should be.” He looked down at his wedding ring and shook his head, frustrated with himself. “I was at the bar playing ‘Would You Rather’ yesterday while my wife dealt with Finn alone. I’m a crap husband.”

“No, you’re not,” Miller assured him. “Listen, I think you made the right call. I’ve seen the pictures Finn posted. You would’ve gone crazy if you’d been there.”

“Pictures?” he echoed. “He took pictures?”

“Yeah, dozens of ‘em. Everything’s hashtagged, ‘my daughter.’” Miller rolled his eyes.

Bellamy grunted. “Figures.” Hadn’t they _just_ talked about that the other day at Target, how Avery wasn’t his daughter and never would be? Hell of a lot of good that had done. “Do I even wanna see?” he asked his friend.

“Probably not.”

Curiosity was going to get the best of him, though, so he relented and said, “Show me one.”

Miller slowly took his phone out of his pocket and said, “Only ‘cause you’re my boss.” He navigated to one of Finn’s social media pages and brought up a selfie of him and Avery. They were sitting right there on his couch. He was holding her purple bunny up for her.

“She doesn’t even look like him,” Miller said.

“Doesn’t look like me, either,” Bellamy grumbled.

“She looks like Clarke.”

Yeah, she did. But what if her hair got darker as she got older? She’d still have those blue eyes like her mom, but . . . she’d look more like Finn.

“Look at these comments,” Bellamy said, taking the phone from his friend when he saw something that made him want to throw up. “‘You’re such a good dad. Way to step up.’ Fuck that.”

“Don’t even let it bother you,” Miller said, taking his phone back. “Those are probably just his friends saying that. They don’t know what’s really going on.”

 _Does anybody?_ Bellamy wondered. What the hell was going on with him? He’d lied to Clarke this morning about not remembering what he’d said. And even though he’d denied it, he knew he really was, on some level, avoiding her. So then actually he’d lied about two things. What was going on . . . was that he was struggling. But everyone just kept trying to make him feel like things were gonna be okay.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Murphy swung open the door, the first thing he said to Clarke was, “Raven’s not here.”

“I know,” she said. “I came to see you.”

“Well, I’m just editing, so I’m probably really boring. For once,” he joked.

“You got a minute?”

“For my goddaughter?” He smirked at Avery, who was half asleep in her carrier. “Sure. I guess I could spare one for you, too.”

“Gee, thanks.” She entered his apartment and put Avery’s carrier down on the floor. “I wanna ask you something,” she blurted out.

“Okay, I think I know where this is going, and the answer’s no,” Murphy said. “I will not have a threesome with you and Bellamy. I know I’m tempting, but I love my girlfriend too much.”

While Murphy’s humor was, in a sense, much needed, she didn’t have time to beat around the bush. She had another lesson with Madi today, so her time for errands was limited. “Would you get serious?”

“I can try,” he said, “but it’s not my default setting.”

Lately, it seemed to be hers, so she decided to cut straight to the chase. “How many drinks did Bellamy have yesterday?”

Murphy thought about it for a moment, then said, “I don’t know. A decent amount. More than me. We did shots, but he was mostly just downing beer. Nothing too hardcore. Why?”

“I was just wondering how drunk he got.” She _really_ didn’t believe that he didn’t remember what he’d said. It seemed like a flimsy excuse to not talk about it any further.

“I mean, he was safe to drive, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Murphy reassured her. “I would’ve take him home otherwise.”

She nodded, glad that he hadn’t done something unsafe. “Okay. Thanks.” She hoisted up Avery’s heavy carrier again and headed for the door.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Murphy said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She realized she sounded about as unconvincing as her husband had when she’d confronted him this morning, so she added, “Can you just . . . can you do me a favor? Next time he asks you and Miller to hang out, can you go somewhere other than Eligius?”

Murphy must have had a couple questions, but to his credit, he agreed to it without asking any of them. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” She left his apartment, hoping that they’d go see a movie next week. Or hell, she’d even be fine with them staying in and watching porn or something. That seemed healthier than another Sunday spent at the bar.

As she headed back out to the parking lot she felt . . . kind of let down. Sure, she’d gotten some info out of Murphy, but what was she actually gonna do with it? Confront Bellamy again? It didn’t seem like it would do any good or get him to change his story, and that frustrated her. She was so used to being able to _do_ something.

****

_Clarke gave her locker a mighty heave and got it to open. She had the worst locker of her life this year, but at least it was towards the end of the juniors hallway, so she wasn’t sandwiched in between people._

_“Clarke!” she heard Wells call from down the hall. She looked up and saw him bounding towards her like an excited puppy. “Look at this,” he said, showing her his phone. “It’s officially up and running.”_

_She had to hold his hand steady to get a good look at what he was trying to show her. “Oh my god,” she said, recognizing a very important page on the school website. “We did that.” The anonymous reporting portal for sexual assault and harassment was officially up and running._

_“You did it,” Wells said. “I just helped.”_

_“We did it together.” Without him motivating her, she may have lost some of her drive. “That’s awesome. I really needed that today.”_

_“Why?” he asked. “Did something happen with Dax?”_

_“Oh, no, not like I needed it to report something,” she clarified. “I just meant that . . .” She couldn’t really say anything more without saying too much. “It’s just been kind of a rough day.”_

_“You wanna talk about it at lunch?” he offered._

_“Not really.”_

_Being the good friend that he was, Wells didn’t push too hard on it. “Okay. Well, I’m here if you need me.”_

_“Thanks.” She waved to him as he headed off to class. It was good to know that he was there, and Raven was always there, and on some level, even her parents were there. But no one could really understand what she was feeling. What she felt every day._

_Another good thing about being down at the end of the hallway was that nobody ever really got a good glimpse of what was in her locker. Taped up on the wall was a plain white notecard that said_ Days Since _on the top. If anyone ever saw it, she’d lie and say it was days since she’d last eaten chocolate or days since she’d stopped drinking soda. Underneath that vague title, she put a tally mark every single day. She subtly marked another one, and that officially put her at four months of tally marks. Another morbid anniversary. Maybe she’d stop counting someday._

_She ended up getting to economics class right as the bell rang. The teacher wasn’t in there yet, so of course everyone was talking. Clarke sat down at her desk, took out her sketchbook, and started to draw. It was probably more of a doodle than anything else. She doodled a lot in this class, because the people in it were annoying. It was the kind of class where there was a mix of grade levels, and she didn’t have any real friends in there._

_Bratty Josephine walked in about three minutes late—but, to her credit, still before the teacher—and plopped down next to Dax, who was now apparently her official boyfriend. “God,” she groaned dramatically, “this baby’s so annoying.”_

_Clarke couldn’t help but shoot a look back at them. Normally, she tried to ignore them, but . . . what? She halfway expected to see Josephine with a baby bump, but instead, she had one of those fake babies with her._

_“Why do you have that?” Dax asked his girlfriend._

_“For child development. It’s basically our final exam,” she told him. “We have to haul this stupid thing around for the rest of the month.”_

_“That sucks.”_

_“Tell me about it.”_

_Clarke looked away, trying to lose herself in her doodle again. But her focus and flow were all out of whack now. She couldn’t concentrate._

_“Why are you even taking that class?” she heard Dax ask._

_“‘cause it’s an easy A.”_

_“You sure you don’t wanna be a mom?” he teased. “ ‘cause I could make that happen. Fuck a baby right into ya.”_

_Clarke’s grip on her pencil tightened. She really wished he wouldn’t joke about that._

_“Yeah, right,” Josephine said with a laugh. “I’d rather have an abortion than have a kid.”_

_Although she tried as hard as she could not to react, Clarke held her pencil so tightly that it snapped in half._

****

As Clarke carried Avery out into the parking lot of Murphy’s apartment complex, she heard a terrible commotion coming from one particular unit on the first floor. There was a lot of yelling, and it sounded like someone was crying. She walked a little faster, wanting to get Avery out of there, when all of a sudden the door flew open, and out spilled . . . Roma? And her son. A little boy who looked like he was in first or second grade. He was the one crying.

“Get the fuck out!” a man’s voice roared.

“Where the hell am I supposed to go?” Roma yelled back at him.

“I don’t fucking care!” A suitcase flew out the door, landing at her feet, startling the boy even more. He cried harder.

“You piece of shit!” Roma screeched at her . . . boyfriend? Husband? Hard telling. “Treatin’ me like trash!”

“You are trash!”

“Oh, fuck you!” The door slammed shut on her, and she kicked at it angrily while her son continued to wail. Clarke didn’t realize she had frozen in place to watch the whole debacle until Roma glanced in her direction and spat out, “What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing.” She didn’t want any problems. Although she was sure as hell going to report this once she got home. That kid needed to be somewhere else.

Roma must have thought Clarke was judging her—which, okay, maybe she was—because she snarled, “Spoiled bitch,” before bending down to picked up her bag. “Come on,” she snapped at her kid, motioning for him to follow her down the sidewalk as they headed off to . . . wherever they were going now that they’d been kicked out of their apartment, apparently. Neither one of them even had shoes on. But Roma made sure to leave her with one last little snide remark when she yelled back, “Just wait ‘til the honeymoon’s over, bitch!”

Clarke definitely wasn’t yelling at her husband like that, or throwing things, or making her child cry. But as for the honeymoon? It’d been over for a while now. She and Bellamy could both attest to that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Poor Madi. She was really starting to love playing the piano—it was so obvious—but Clarke had been distracted during her entire lesson. Was Bellamy distractedly coaching practice? She kind of hoped so, actually. That only seemed fair.

The night was . . . awkward. There wasn’t really a better word she could think of to describe it. Bellamy came home at a decent time, but he came home and watched football game on TV. Not even a current football game, but one of the ESPN Classics. Clarke had absolutely no interest in it, but she sat there with him and watched it anyway. She kept hoping that he would turn the TV off and all of a sudden start talking to her, unloading everything that was on his mind. But the only things he spoke to her about were the plays the two teams were running. He explained which players were playing well, why certain ones were incurring penalties, and what plays he would have called if he’d been coaching the game. It all felt like a pretty pointless conversation, though, and she wasn’t sure how to steer it into more serious territory without making things feel even more awkward.

It wasn’t until she lay in bed with him that night, watching his chest rise up and down while he supposedly slept, that she worked up the courage to blurt out, “Bellamy. We need to talk.”

He didn’t move a muscle.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” she said. When he slept, he snored.

Slowly, he rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes. “What do we need to talk about?” he asked.

Even in the dark bedroom, she could read the look on his face and in his eyes. He _really_ didn’t want to do this. “I know you remember what you said yesterday,” she told him. “Don’t lie to me.” They weren’t gonna get anywhere if he refused to tell her the truth. “Do you really wanna have another baby right now?”

He thought about it for a moment—encouraging, because if he’d been lying, he would have answered quickly, like he had this morning. “No,” he finally said. “I mean, I’d be happy about it if it happened, but realistically . . . I know it’s not a good time.”

So he _could_ be realistic about things. That was a relief.

“I know you just got through one pregnancy. I don’t want you to have to go through that again so soon,” he said. “And let’s face it, we’re already busy with one kid.”

 _Definitely_ , she thought. Today alone, she’d hauled Avery with her to the grocery store, the post office, Murphy’s house, and . . . where else? She’d actually lost track of how many errands they’d run that day.

“I’d be happy, too,” she assured him, “if it happened. But I definitely don’t think we should start trying or anything.”

“When do you wanna try?” he asked.

Knowing them, they wouldn’t have to. It’d probably just happen at some point. Just like it had the first time. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” she admitted.

He sounded so hopeful when he suggested, “Maybe after I adopt Avery?”

“What?” She wondered how well he could read her expression in the dark, because it must have been a surprised one. “That still seems really soon, don’t you think?”

“Actually . . .” He rolled back over onto his back, and she heard him swallow hard before he said quietly, “It feels kinda far away.”

She winced, feeling like she was breaking his heart every time she didn’t exhibit quite the same eagerness for another pregnancy that he did. But at least they were talking about it. That was progress. “You know, lately, we’ve both been dealing with a lot of emotions,” she said. “Maybe it’s best if we don’t make any huge decisions right now.”

“We are, though,” he pointed out. “We decided to let Finn see Avery. That’s pretty huge, don’t you think?”

She frowned, trying to pinpoint what exactly she heard in that tone. Fear? Resentment? “Are you mad at me about that?” she questioned.

“No. I just hope it’s the right move.”

Didn’t he get it? She didn’t have a roadmap in front of her, either. She was doing the best she could, and lately, it felt like she was doing it all with very little input from him. “I just feel like we’re not on the same page right now,” she said. “And I don’t like it.” She realized that hard times were inevitable in every marriage, but it just didn’t seem fair that she and Bellamy were having to deal with such a hard time so early on. It’d probably make them stronger in the long run, but right now . . . it really sucked.

“We can get on the same page,” he said, turning onto his side again. He moved closer to her and kissed her softly. But it was still the kind of kiss that hinted at something more.

“Every time we start talking, you wanna have sex instead,” she murmured. It was starting to feel like a diversion tactic. A very _fun_ diversion tactic, but still . . .

“Well, yeah,” he said, “‘cause my wife’s hot.”

“You’re wife’s worried about you,” she corrected. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

He sighed, put his hand on her hip, and rubbed it gently. “Just be patient with me,” he said. “I’m dealin’ with this the best I can.”

“I know,” she said, “but--”

“You wanna help me deal?” He took her hand and led it down to his crotch, urging her to touch him. He wasn’t hard, but . . . she could change that for him. It was so easy. She knew how to touch him, knew what he liked. Knew what would make him feel good. And maybe that was just what he needed right now. She got the sense that he wasn’t going to talk all night with her. In fact, he’d probably said all that he cared to. So she could either lie there and watch him pretend to sleep some more, or . . . she could make him feel good. Probably better than he’d felt in days.

Rubbing and squeezing him through his underwear, she waited until she felt him hardening to crawl on top of him. They kissed languidly while his erection continued to grow, and when she _really_ started to feel it pressing against her pussy, she sat up a bit to remove her oversized t-shirt. It was his shirt, actually. He liked the way she looked in it, and he liked that she didn’t wear anything else with it.

Sometimes sex was vocal between them. Sometimes they laughed or talked during it, but this was not going to be one of those times. He didn’t say anything as he reached down to grab her ass and press her hips in against his. Honestly, this wasn’t something that _required_ words for them. They knew each other’s bodies better than their own at this point.

Fumbling around a bit, she managed to reach down in between them to push his boxer briefs down enough to let his cock out. He squirmed around, helping her, and held his cock steady while she sank down on top of it. It was a little bit of an odd angle, but she wanted to stay close to him, keep her chest pressed against his instead of sitting up to ride him. They both needed that closeness right now.

She ground herself down onto him, no intention of getting herself off on this. He definitely wasn’t going to last long, and she was okay with that. This was very much sex _for_ him.

After they were done and he’d spent himself inside her, she stayed right where she was on top of him, reluctant to move because she didn’t want him to sleep with his back to her like he had last night. She wanted to fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way.

“See?” he said, stroking her face. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

She heard him say those words as he lay there beneath her, staying inside her . . . she heard them loud and clear. But she still felt worried.


	94. Chapter 94

_Chapter 94_

The start of the school year meant the start of two-a-days for the football team. Since Bellamy could no longer ask them to devote five hours of their day at a time, he had to split practices up into mornings and after school. Two and a half hours at each. It was brutal, and he could tell the guys weren’t used to that kind of exertion. But that was why they were doing them, to build up more stamina for the season. A season that was rapidly approaching.

Of course, it was a big commitment for him. He basically had to be at the school at 5:00 in the morning, and by the time he got home, it was 6:30. Luckily, since he wasn’t a teacher like the volleyball and softball coaches, he could still go home during the day. But not every day. He got called into meetings, ended up having to spend more of his day there than he’d thought.

The end of the first week of two-a-days had him feeling pretty exhausted, but the screwed up thing was that Sunday, the day of fucking rest, still loomed. Another day for Finn to come visit, which meant Bellamy couldn’t just veg out and relax. He had to get out of there.

Around noon on Sunday, he called up Murphy and said, “What’re you wasting your time with now?”

“Porn,” Murphy replied.

“That’s valid.”

“Sure is,” Murphy agreed. “So what’s up? We hangin’ out again today or what?”

“Yep” He’d already told Clarke last night that he was going to go out again. She hadn’t exactly looked thrilled about that, but she’d also said she understood. “Finn’s comin’ over at 1:00, so . . . you wanna go the bar?”

Murphy didn’t agree to that right away the way Bellamy had anticipated. “Uh . . . do _you_ wanna go to the bar?”

“Yeah.” Of course he did. Finn Collins. Enough said.

“Where’s Miller wanna go?” Murphy inquired.

“He’s sick. I told him to rest up for the game we got on Friday. Just you and me.”

“How cozy.” Murphy chuckled. “Hey, you know what? We should go somewhere else?”

Bellamy made a face. “Where?” It was Arkadia. There was a limited number of fun things they could do.

For some reason, some reason Bellamy couldn’t comprehend, Murphy dragged him out to the golf course on the edge of town. They’d had all summer to golf. Hadn’t gone once, except in Long Beach. And Murphy had never even mentioned going. Yet there they were. Golfing.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, I suck,” Murphy said after her took a truly horrible swing. The ball went a good distance, but it didn’t land anywhere close to the green. “Yep, that’s in the water.”

“You ever golfed here before?” Bellamy asked him, leaning on his club like a cane.

“Nope.”

“Then why’d you wanna come?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“To see if I suck,” Murphy replied, “which apparently I do.”

“Alright, let’s just pack it in and go to Eligius then,” Bellamy suggested. He motioned for his friend to follow him back to the clubhouse.

“Wait, not so fast,” Murphy said. “Don’t you wanna give it a try?”

“No.” He wanted to down a shot.

“Why not?”

“‘cause I already know I’m good. I’m good at every sport,” he bragged. Although it wasn’t really bragging if it was true. More like stating the facts?

“Well, prove it,” Murphy challenged him. 

Sighing, Bellamy walked up to the tee, put his ball down, and stood to the side of it in what felt like a decent stance. He’d only golfed a couple times in his life, once in Florida, once out in California. But he knew he had this. He lined his club up with the ball, moved it back and forth a couple times to get the feel of it, and then took a mighty swing. His ball soared through the air, a pretty beautiful shot if he said so himself. It landed on the green and gently rolled towards the hole, probably just an easy putt or two away from making it in.

“Damn,” Murphy said, sounding like he was in awe. “How the hell are you so athletic?”

“I don’t know.” He’d always just enjoyed his physicality, never questioned it. “Can we go now?”

“Well, don’t you wanna play it out?” Murphy said. “I’ll get better, I promise.”

Even if he did, it still wasn’t going to be much of a game. And it was hot out, so what was the point of walking miles around a golf course? “I don’t really like golf,” he said, figuring he’d just leave his ball out there on the course. “Let’s go.”

“I . . . can’t,” Murphy said slowly.

“Why not?” Bellamy didn’t understand. It wasn’t like Murphy had to work tomorrow or anything. At least not in the way most people did.

“Because I gave drinking up for lent,” Murphy blurted.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did, just recently.”

“Lent was months ago.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah.” _Lent?_ What the hell kind of flimsy excuse was that?

“Fine, I guess I just really don’t feel like going there today,” Murphy said with a shrug.

Bellamy felt all kinds of confused, because he couldn’t for the life of him think of any reason why Murphy would want to avoid that bar. He was on a mission to get there, though, so he decided, “Fine, I’ll go by myself then.” Turning, he started to walk away. He’d only taken a few steps when . . .

“Wait.”

He stopped and turned around. Murphy looked reluctant as hell to follow him, but he did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since she’d been lying on the couch, Clarke didn’t see the headlights pull up outside her house. Her first indication that Bellamy was home was when she heard him. Singing. Loudly.

“Strangers! Waiting!” he was shouting. “Up and down the boulevard! Shadows searching in the _niiiiight_!”

She sat up, making a face. Really? _Really?_

“What comes next?” she heard him ask when he got closer to the door. She shot to her feet and opened it. There was her husband, practically being carried by Murphy. “Hey, Clarke, sing it with me,” he said.

“He tried his hand at a little karaoke tonight,” Murphy informed her.

“Don’t stop! Believing!” he sang as he stumbled inside the house. He somehow landed on his side on the couch and just sort of . . . laid there.

“Told you he was too drunk to drive,” Murphy said.

“You didn’t tell me he was completely wasted.” Murphy had texted her a couple times that afternoon and evening, but it wasn’t until his last text that she’d discovered where they’d gone. “Why did you take him there again?”

“I didn’t. I took him golfing. But he didn’t wanna play,” Murphy said.

She grunted and shook her head, kind of fed up with both of them in that moment. “You’re enabling him,” she accused.

“Look, it was either I go with him or have him go on his own. Figured I could at least be his designated driver,” Murphy said. “I’m sorry.”

When he put it like that, she couldn’t be quite as pissed at him as she was at Bellamy “Thanks for bringing him home,” she said, practically closing the door in his face. She really was relieved that Murphy had taken care of Bellamy, but still . . . couldn’t he have done something more to convince him not to go get drunk?

She walked over to the couch, where her husband was already sleeping. That hadn’t taken long. “Oh, Bellamy . . .” she said disappointedly, draping a blanket over him. Was this what every Sunday was going to be like? They still had ten of them to go, and she didn’t know if she had enough patience left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Now that Avery was becoming a little more mobile, Clarke wanted to take her out more. Not just onto the beach, either, but to places like the park, where she could interact with different things and, someday, different kids. She didn’t want to go alone, though, and her friends were all busy, so she asked Bellamy’s mom to go with her. Not that Aurora was her last choice. Far from it. In fact, she seemed like the perfect person to spend some time with given how her son had practically passed out on the couch last night.

“Thanks for coming to hang out with us on your day off,” Clarke said, perched on the edge of the sandbox, watching as her mother-in-law played with Avery.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Aurora said. “I love spending time with her. And you, of course.”

Clarke smiled, thankful that Avery had such good grandparents. Although Aurora still looked _way_ too young to be a grandma. “Are you going to the game Friday?” she asked her.

“I’m scheduled to work that night.” Aurora frowned. “But I’m trying to switch shifts with someone. Who are they playing?”

“Well, I guess it’s more of a scrimmage, actually. It’s Fall Kickoff,” Clarke responded.

“Oh, that’s always fun.”

“Yeah, it should be.” It wasn’t Friday she was worried about. It was Sunday.

“You think he’s excited about it?” Aurora asked.

“Who? Bellamy? Yeah. Probably. I’m sure he’s nervous, too. It’s technically his coaching debut.”

“True. And there’s a lot of pressure on him.”

_Speaking of pressure_ . . . Clarke thought, sensing the slightest of segues. “He’s, um . . . he’s been really stressed lately,” she said. “Not so much about the coaching, but . . . everything else. Has he mentioned anything about that to you?”

“Oh, I haven’t talked to him in a few days,” Aurora said. “Why? What’s going on?”

_I’m not sure_ , Clarke thought. She just really . . . wasn’t sure. “Well, you know, we’re trying out this whole arrangement with Finn,” she said.

“I did hear about that.”

“Yeah. It’s not permanent or anything, but . . . Bellamy’s just kind of been struggling with it, you know?” She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to reveal, because she definitely didn’t want to alarm his mom.

“I’m sure,” Aurora said. “He’s very protective of the people he loves. And he loves you and Avery more than anything.”

And they loved him, too. But Clarke didn’t love the way he’d been acting lately. “He can’t even be there when Finn shows up,” she said. “It’s too hard on him.”

“Well, maybe that’s for the best.”

“Maybe.” If he had to leave, then he had to leave. She could deal with that. But it was his destination that was an ever-increasing concern. “I don’t know, I’m kinda worried about him, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because . . . it feels like he won’t talk to me,” she admitted. “I mean, not really. We have brief snippets of conversation here and there, but I feel like it never goes deep enough.” It was starting to affect their sex life, too. Physically, everything still felt great, of course, but any time she was with him, she wondered if he was using sex to distract her from the issues that had begun to develop. “I’m sure things will get better after he adopts Avery,” she said. “That’s just gonna be weighing on his mind until it happens.”

Aurora nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” she said. “Is he . . .” She trailed off suddenly, but it seemed like there was something right on the tip of her tongue that she really wanted to ask. “Never mind.”

“No, what?” Clarke prompted.

Her mother-in-law waited a few seconds, then quietly asked, “Is he drinking?”

Clarke stiffened.

“Because when he found out about . . . well, you know.” Aurora looked down at Avery for a moment, who was blissfully unaware of what this very serious conversation was all about. “When he found out about that and he came and stayed with me for a couple weeks, he definitely started drinking a little more,” Aurora said. “Nothing out of control, but just something to monitor.”

Was it . . . was it a pattern then? Is that what was happening here? During two highly emotional times in his life, Bellamy had started drinking more. More than usual. Maybe more than he should have. “Yeah, he’s been . . . he’s been going to the bar,” she said, “with his friends.” At least he wasn’t drinking alone, though. Wasn’t that usually a bigger concern?

“Well, just keep a close eye on him,” Aurora said.

“Yeah.” She thought she’d been doing that, but maybe it needed to be closer.

“It’s probably nothing.”

Smiling shakily, Clarke whispered, “I hope so.” If it did end up going on for ten more weeks, though, how could that be nothing?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Friday night, Rocket spirit seemed to be in the air. The bleachers were crowded for the football scrimmage, and Clarke heard a couple people talking about how excited they were for the “new era” of Rocket football. It seemed that the old coach had definitely overstayed his welcome.

Clarke had ordered herself and Avery matching green jerseys, hoping they could wear them at every game. Hers said “Coach’s Wife” on the back, and Avery’s said, “Coach’s Kid.” Bellamy had been so surprised when he’d seen them. It’d been nice to see such a big, genuine smile on his face again.

About five minutes prior to the start of the game, Clarke headed down on the track to talk to her husband. “Two more reps,” she heard him tell his players. “Then do some lunges.”

“I’d rather see _you_ do some lunges,” she said as she came up behind him, “but oh, well.”

He grinned and said, “Oh, you can see me do a lot more than that later tonight. If we win. Which we will. ‘cause we’re playing ourselves.”

“Which group’s yours?” she asked.

“Green,” he said. “Miller’s coaching the white team. They’re the away team on the scoreboard. We’re home.”

“Well, I’ll cheer for your team,” she said.

“Yeah, you’d better.” He glanced back over his shoulder to check on his guys, and since they were all still warming up the way they needed to, he returned his attention to her and asked, “Where’s Avery?”

“Up there with Octavia,” she said, pointing them out on the bleachers. “She’s all set to cheer her daddy on.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I told you, I’ll cheer.”

“Yeah, but I think you should put on your old uniform.” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed when, in reality, she loved that he seemed to be feeling good enough to flirt with her and tease her. “You know it doesn’t fit.”

“Then maybe we should order a new one.”

She’d never really given much consideration to any costumes in the bedroom, but if it kept him in a lighthearted mood like this, then maybe she would. “Alright, time to stop flirting with me,” she told him. “Get your head in the game. Have fun.”

“I will.” He gave her a quick kiss—very PG, nothing any conservative parents could throw a fit about—and then turned back to the field. She ran her lips over each other, because she thought for a second that she tasted alcohol after that kiss. But then again, she was probably just being paranoid, imagining things.

With a minute left to go, she went up to the bleachers and sat down next to Octavia, who had Avery on her lap. “Okay, this feels so weird to be back here,” Octavia said.

“Why? You didn’t graduate that long ago.”

“But I didn’t go to Fall Kickoff even when I was in high school,” Octavia said. “It’s so boring.”

Since it wasn’t a real game, the stakes were indeed pretty low, but . . . it was small town Arkadia. Honestly, did anyone really have anything better to do? “Well, it’s nice of you to come support your brother,” she said. “You, too, Lincoln.”

Lincoln peered around his girlfriend and asked, “I have a brother out there?”

“Practically a brother-in-law,” Octavia said, almost like she was hinting at something. “Oh my god, the one nice thing about being here is I get to show off how hot my boyfriend is.”

“And I get to show off how cute my baby is,” Clarke added.

“I know. Someone asked if she was mine, and I just said yes.”

Clarke shot Octavia a look.

“Kidding,” Octavia said. “But I am making sure everyone knows she was partially named after me. I’m a very proud aunt, you know.”

“I know.” Clarke held out her finger for Avery, who instinctively grabbed onto it. Her hands were so small and soft, but strong. Stronger every day.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer started in, “and welcome to the annual Fall Kickoff game for your Arkadia Rockets!”

People cheered. Mostly adults. The students were all just kind of loitering about down by the track.

“For tonight’s starting lineup . . .” the announcer said.

Clarke didn’t know the kids or their families, so she just sat there and watched Bellamy. He looked so . . . adult. So mature. So very different than the guy who’d come home singing last Sunday night. He looked _good_ , too, in the green polo he’d worn with his nice jeans. She’d never seen Bellamy wear a polo before, but it was a coaching look. Still . . . she couldn’t help but remember what he’d looked like in a green jersey.

****

_Clarke lightly rubbed the side of her pencil against the paper, trying to add some shading to the figure she’d just sketched. No matter how many times she drew him, she felt like she could never get his skin tone just right._

_With it being basketball season now, the outdoor bleachers had become one of her favorite places to sit and sketch. It was quiet out there, peaceful. Plus, for two years, she’d spent a lot of time out there, watched a lot of games. Normally, no one bothered her at all when she was doing the loner thing out there, but . . ._

_“Isn’t it kind of cold to be drawing out here?”_

_She looked up when she heard Raven’s voice. “You gotta go wherever you find your inspiration,” she said._

_Raven shivered exaggeratedly, pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt down, and sat beside her. “What’re you drawing?”_

_Clarke flipped the page quickly. “Nothing.”_

_“Is it Bellamy?”_

_Was it that obvious?_

_“Oh, come on, just let me see,” Raven urged._

_Relenting, Clarke flipped back to her drawing and let her friend take a look._

_“That’s him,” Raven declared._

_“No, it’s not. His name is . . . Vincent.” She cringed inwardly._

_“Vincent?”_

_“Yes, and he’s a character in a comic I’m gonna . . .” It was pointless to try to deny the obvious, so she trailed off and mumbled, “It’s Bellamy.” She must have looked so pathetic._

_“You should just call him,” Raven urged._

_“I can’t.”_

_“Why not?”_

_Because she’d put her hundred and twentieth tally mark in her locker today. That was why not._

_“You still like him,” Raven said. “Maybe even more than like.”_

_“I like Wells,” Clarke pointed out. “Doesn’t mean I wanna date him.”_

_“But you’re not drawing Wells, are you?”_

_Clarke shut her whole sketchbook, starting to feel uncomfortable._

_“Look, I’m sorry, I know I’m being annoying,” Raven acknowledged. “But you’re my best friend, and I just wanna see you happy.”_

_“I am happy,” she said weakly._

_“It doesn’t seem like it.”_

_She huffed, rising to her feet. “Why? Because I’m not a cheerleader anymore? Sorry if I don’t wanna waste all my time waving pom poms around.” She regretted those words the moment they left her mouth._

_“Okay, then,” Raven said. “Thanks for insulting the group I’m literally the leader of. Nice talk, Clarke.”_

_“Raven, I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to be mean._

_“No, you know what? Just go back to drawing,” Raven said as she stood up. “I’m gonna go ‘waste my time’ at practice.” She stormed off the bleachers, leaving Clarke alone again, and even though she’d been fine sitting out there drawing by herself . . . now she just felt lonely._

****

Clarke couldn’t help but watch the cheerleaders as the players were introduced. Oh, if Raven was there, she would have shit a gold brick seeing how downhill they had gone. They weren’t even standing in formation. They were all sort of just talking to each other, not one of them cheering when the guys were announced.

“The Rockets are coached by Arkadia high school alum Bellamy Blake,” the announcer said once the players had all been introduced. There was no mistaking the fact that he got the loudest, longest applause out of everyone.

“Woo!” Octavia screeched, causing Lincoln to plug his ears.

“Assisted by Nathan Miller,” the announcer finished up. “Both of these coaches were part of the most successful football team in Arkadia high school history, achieving runner-up at the state competition seven years ago. Let’s give them a big hand.”

God, had it really been that long? Nobody seemed to have forgotten about that achievement, though, even if guys like Bellamy looked back on it as more of a failure, because they once again roared with applause for them. Clarke looked down at Avery, getting a kick out of how she looked like she was trying to clap, too. She couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but she would. Smart little cookie she was.

As the game got underway, Clarke tried to pay attention, but her stomach rumbled with hunger. She’d been so busy getting Avery dressed and done up for the game that she’d neglected to grab anything to eat before heading out. Bellamy would get to take part in the team dinner the parents were hosting afterward, but for her, dinner was going to have to be concession stand food. Avery started to whine, and Clarke knew that meant she was hungry, too, so she took her into the bathroom to feed her. Not that she was embarrassed to feed in public or anything, but . . . there were a lot of little kids running up and down those bleachers, and they didn’t need to see her doing that.

Avery must not have gotten a good latch or something, because it took longer to get her fed than normal. By the time Clarke got out of the bathroom, they were already almost done with the second quarter. She wanted to watch some more, because knowing Bellamy, he’d want to talk to her about some of the plays they’d run tonight, and it’d help to have at least some vague idea of what he was talking about. She stopped at the concession stand first, though, surprised to see her one and only music student at work behind the counter.

“Hi, Madi,” she greeted.

“Hey,” Madi said casually.

“What group’s doing concessions here?”

“Junior high student council,” Madi replied.

“Oh, really? I was on stu-co in high school.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know that link on the website where you can anonymously report sexual harassment? That was my doing,” she proudly proclaimed.

“Cool,” Madi said. “I haven’t ever used it.”

“Well, I hope you don’t ever have to.” Madi would probably be starting high school in a year or two, wouldn’t she? Hopefully she didn’t have and Daxes to deal with.

“You want some food?” Madi asked.

“Oh, yeah.” God, she was probably holding up the line. “Um . . . nachos? And maybe Skittles.” Those were for Octavia. She’d been dropping hints since the game started about wanting candy. “And a water.”

“Can you carry all that?” Madi asked skeptically.

“Trust me,” she said confidently, “Moms can carry everything.”

Even though she’d talked a big game, Clarke found herself struggling once she had everything in hand. The problem was that carrying Avery took her entire left arm out of the equation, so she had to hold the nachos in the palm of her hand, tuck the bottled water under her arm, and bite the bag of Skittles between her teeth.

“Oh, shoot,” she said when she felt the water bottle starting to slip. She kept her teeth pressed together on the bag and said, “Okay. This isn’t working.”

“Need some help?”

She practically bumped into . . . Finn? He reached out and took Avery from her. Not the food, of course, but the baby.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, able to hold everything else easily now. “What’re you doing here?” Finn hadn’t attended Arkadia high school, so had he just . . . shown up hoping to see her and Avery or something?

“One of my old foster brothers is on the team,” he answered.

“Oh.” As far as reasons for attending Fall Kickoff went, that was . . . actually pretty wholesome.

“I’ve got her now,” Finn said, motioning to Avery. “I’ll follow you back to your seat.”

Groaning inwardly, she headed back towards the bleachers, hoping people wouldn’t see them walking together and start to gossip about anything.

“Is it alright if I sit with you guys?” he asked. “I know this cuts into my time with her, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do three hours this Sunday anyway. I gotta work.”

Oh, people would definitely talk if he saw her sitting with them. Wouldn’t they? Or maybe it didn’t matter because they didn’t know who he was. Or did they? “That’s fine . . . I guess,” she said unsurely. _Whatever_. If this cut Sunday’s three hours down to two, then she was fine with it.

When they got to her seat, Octavia looked up at her and eagerly asked, “Did you get my Skittles?”

Clarke handed her the bag.

“Thank you.” Octavia tore it open, popped a handful into her mouth at once, and asked, “Who’s this?” as they sat down next to her sat down.

“Octavia . . . this is Finn,” Clarke introduced them.

“Finn,” she echoed. She might not have known the face, but she knew the name.

“Yep. Finn, this is Octavia, my sister-in-law, and her boyfriend, Lincoln.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Finn said.

Octavia cringed and fake-laughed—girl didn’t even _try_ to sugarcoat how she felt about him—then leaned over to Clarke and whispered, “Why is he sitting with us?”

“Just ignore him,” Clarke told her.

“Kinda hard to do when he’s holding my niece.”

_Yeah, tell me about it_ , Clarke thought. Even though she’d become slightly more accustomed to Finn holding Avery, it still wasn’t a sight she liked to see.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Alright, good job, good job,” Bellamy pumped up his team as they trotted towards the sideline. “Keep this momentum, pick up the pace. I want you guys to go no huddle now, alright? You gotta wear ‘em down. He put his hand into the center of their circle, and the guys followed suit. “Green on three. One, two, three!” he chanted.

“Green!” they all shouted, breaking up the circle.

As he was heading back to the edge of the field, Bellamy made the mistake of looking up into the bleachers. Just once to see if he could spot his family. And he did. He saw Octavia and Clarke and Avery . . . and Avery was on Finn’s lap. Finn was there. Sitting next to Clarke. Holding Avery.

He didn’t know what they were talking about, but Finn was saying something. He was smiling. And Clarke seemed to be listening. She didn’t even know that he was looking up at her. She didn’t look down at him. Avery was distracted, too, grabbing at Finn’s hand.

If the referee hadn’t blown the whistle to resume play, Bellamy was pretty sure he wouldn’t have looked back at the field. But he still had a game to coach.

When they got home that night, Clarke seemed to be in good spirits. She said she’d had a good time and kept raving about how cute Avery had looked in her jersey. Coach’s Kid, right? Except anyone who had seen Finn holding her might have thought she was his kid. And she wasn’t. She _wasn’t_.

“You did a really good job tonight,” Clarke complimented him as she pulled back the covers on their bed. “I know I’ve told you, like, a thousand times, but everyone around me was saying how the team already looks so much better than they did last year. People were really impressed.”

“That’s good.” He took the pillowcase off his pillow, only halfway listening.

“Thought you might be happier to hear that,” she said.

He shrugged. “It’s a scrimmage. Real games are gonna be harder.”

She sat down on the side of the bed, taking out her earrings, and asked, “So is next week a home or away game?”

“Away,” he answered.

“So are you riding on the bus with the players?”

“Yep.” He had to. It was required.

“I’ll see if Octavia wants to carpool then.”

“Yeah, sure.” He couldn’t bite his tongue, couldn’t keep himself from saying it: “Hey, and while you’re at it, bring Finn.”

She gave him a curious look. “What?”

“I saw him sitting with you guys tonight,” he told her, feeling like he’d already held it in too long. “What’s that about?”

“I was giving him some of his three hours early because he has to work on Sunday,” she explained.

“Oh, that’s nice of you. I didn’t realize we were being nice to him now.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause being confrontational worked so well when you tried it,” she growled sarcastically, standing back up again. “God, Bellamy, here I am trying to compliment you on the job you did tonight, and you just lash out at me.”

“I’m not lashing out,” he denied. “It just kinda sucked to look up there and see this whole big happy family without me even in it.”

She looked at him incredulously, mouth opening. “ _What_ are you even talking about? I was miserable sitting next to him.”

“Looked like.”

She grunted and yelled, “God, what is _wrong_ with you?” then grabbed a blanket and a pillow and stormed past him and out the bedroom door.

_Shit_ , he thought. If there had been a right way to go about that . . . he definitely hadn’t gone about it the right way. She seemed really pissed, but he didn’t want her to go to bed feeling that way, so he followed her downstairs. There, she was making up the couch, as if she were planning on sleeping there instead.

“Clarke . . . come on, come back upstairs,” he said.

She just shot him a glare.

“I’m sorry, okay? You know things have just been hard on me.”

“They’ve been hard on me, too,” she said, rearranging all the pillows.

“I know.”

“Do you?” She shook her head, then put the bed pillow on top of the others.

“Just come back upstairs,” he urged her. “Come on, you don’t have to sleep down here tonight.”

“Oh, this isn’t for me,” she told him. “It’s for you.” She moved past him and headed upstairs without another word. He stood there feeling miserable and listened to the bedroom door shut.


End file.
